'Sarah, you okay?' Ben's muffled voice came through the door. 'Can I come in?'
'Yep,' I blurted without thinking. I sat bolt upright. Oh, bad idea. The room was spinning. I clutched my head as I sank down into my mattress.
The door opened and the light went on, blinding me. I whimpered and covered my eyes.
'Oh, shit, sorry,' he said, turning the light off straightaway. I felt the dip of the mattress as he sat on the edge. 'Jesus, Sarah, are you all right?' He placed his hand on my forehead, then my cheek. 'Mom told me you left her place unwell. I came back as soon as I heard.'
I was unwell, deeply unwell, but not in the way he thought. 'I'll be all right, just a bit under the weather, nothing that some sleep won't fix.'
'You feel hot,' he said, touching my face again with his large hands. He clearly didn't realise that touching me like that was what was making me hot.
'Have you eaten?' he asked. His voice was all seriousness. I wanted to ask if nachos counted but thought better of it. I just shook my head carefully.
'Do you think you could manage something, just something little?'
His voice rolled over me and my skin prickled. I pulled myself onto my elbows. 'I could probably try something.' I still felt a bit tipsy, and my stomach rumbled at the thought of food, but how long it would stay down was anyone's guess.
Ben grabbed my forearm and squeezed. It was incredible that something so small could evoke such strange sensations in me. 'Good girl,' he said, and the lightness in his voice made me think he had smiled.
'I might just grab a shower before I head down,' I said, my voice gravelly, my lips dry.
'Will you be okay?'
I had visions of Ben giving me a sponge bath and foot massage and as much as I was lapping up this softer, dare I say, caring side of him, I knew I couldn't push my luck.
'I think I can manage.'
I let the hot water fall around my neck and shoulders as I pressed my forehead against the marble wall. I was trying to think of the positive: tackle the hangover now and I wouldn't have to face it tomorrow. I had popped two pills to ward off the headache and as much as I gagged when I brushed my teeth under the shower, I was relieved that, beyond that, I didn't feel like I was going to throw up – I was just hungry.
Engulfed in my robe, I made my way to my room feeling almost human. My bed covers were half strewn over the floor, so I picked them up, pausing as I lifted a layer and spotted something black. I bent over to pick it up and recognized it from touch and then smell: cool, clean and crisp. Alistair's jacket. Expensive purple silk lining, and no doubt tailor made.
I draped it over the back of my chair, making a note to give it to Dave to return. I couldn't recall Alistair asking me to keep quiet about our outing, but after what Louisa had told me, I wouldn't be announcing it.
I flicked through my clothes, thinking of nothing but comfort: my grey, three-quarter length yoga pants and my I NY T-shirt, the one I hadn't worn since that infamous night. I couldn't help but grin putting it on, thinking about the look on Ben's face. It drooped off my shoulder. It didn't take much for the cheap fabric to get stretched, and when I thought about how it got stretched I could feel my cheeks warm. I readjusted it to sit as best it could. Towel drying my hair, I pulled it into a ponytail, letting it fall over my bare shoulder.
Now I felt more like myself again, I carefully made my way down the stairs, skimming along the walls and concentrating on every single step.
But my grand entrance to the kitchen was wasted – Ben was on the phone, his back turned.
'Yeah, she's fine, just about to eat.' He was looking down at a piece of paper, half distracted from the conversation as he agreed, 'Yes, yes, I will … I will.' It was then he turned to me. He quickly pushed the paper into his pocket. It had me thinking that whatever was on it was secret. That was soon forgotten as Ben's eyes raked over my attire. He recognised it, of that I was sure, I could tell by the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
'Listen, I've got to go, I'll speak to you tomorrow. Yes, yes, I will, okay, yep, right, bye … bye.' He sighed deeply, and ended the call. 'You must have given Mom quite the fright, this is her second call to check in on you.'
I breathed out a laugh. Yeah, so concerned she couldn't even walk me to the door. Still Penny Worthington being concerned at all was pretty amazing. 'That was thoughtful of her.'
'As was your visit,' Ben said, coming to stand nearer to me, and looking down into my eyes, a certain softness in them making me blush.
'Oh, she told you then.'
'You didn't have to do that.'
'I know.'
'But I'm grateful that you did.'
'I just wanted to make sure that-'
'You hungry?'
'Starved!'
He smiled – small, but it was there. 'Follow me.'
Ben opened the door to the basement level that I had forgotten existed. He flicked a switch, illuminating a lush, indulgent cinema room, with wood-panelled walls, a multilevel seating area filled with leather chairs, and the largest screen I had ever seen in a home. On the ceiling, small recessed lights shone through the black as if to replicate the night sky; in the corner was a fully stocked candy bar with a carnival theme. I could just imagine teenage Grace bringing her friends down here and hosting the most incredible slumber parties.
'Do you want to know the best seat in the house?'
'Okay.'
He pointed to the long, curved modular lounge on the top tier, the one covered in a plush chocolate-coloured material. On the over-stuffed cushions sat a blanket and pillow. He guided me to sit directly in the middle. Without saying a word, he grabbed the blanket and threw it over me, engulfing my giggles, then he grabbed the pillow.
'Up,' he directed and I sat forward so he could place the pillow behind me. I couldn't stop running my palms along the velvety fabric of the lounge, thinking if I had a room like this I would never, ever, leave it. And just before I could get settled, Ben reached down and pulled a lever, flinging my legs up so fast I yelped before breaking into another fit of giggles.
'Sorry.' He laughed. 'I'm trying to be a gracious host and so far I've nearly smothered you with a blanket and given you whiplash; I clearly suck at playing nurse.'
I thought about the reason he was making me comfortable, pampering me, making me put my feet up: it was because he thought I was legitimately sick. Pangs of guilt engulfed me; if by some freak event lightning should pierce its way into this cinema room and strike me down, I swear, I'd deserve it.
'Listen, I am feeling so much better, you don't need to fuss.'
'Sarah.' He said my name like a warning, a non-negotiable command to sit down and not move. He handed me a remote that looked like it was made by NASA. My eyes widened as I held it, looking over it in horror.
'I don't know what to do with that.' I shrugged, handing it back to him, and he laughed.
'Okay, how about some music then?'
With my painkillers taking the edge off my headache, music sounded like a dream. 'Perfect.'
Ben seemed pleased. With a quick nod, he headed for the stairs. It suddenly occurred to me how quiet it was.
'Ben, where's Grace?'
He looked at me. 'When I heard you'd come home sick, I thought it might be best for Grace to stay in Brooklyn, give you a night's sleep. I'm going to get her in the morning.'
Now I felt really bad; one phone call from Penny and not only was I getting the VIP experience but now there was quarantine. Oh boy.
I smiled weakly. 'You didn't have to do that.'
'You'll thank me in the morning after you've had a full night's sleep.' He grinned and made his way up the stairs, just before, as though by some magical force, My Sad Captains started filtering through the surround sound system. I settled down in my blanket cocoon, trying not to admit how amazing this was and how much I was loving this treatment from Ben. I was an awful, awful human being.
I would have confessed in a heartbeat if it wouldn't have incriminated Alistair. Perhaps I should use this night as an opportunity to mend bridges with Ben – the way we had ended last night was a bit of a disaster, and as far as working as a team to get Grace into a routine, well, that wasn't going so great either. I had sabotaged my own plans, and it would serve me right if she didn't sleep a wink for me next week.
I rearranged my blanket and thought how easy it would be to fall asleep in this recliner. Of course, Sarah McLachlan singing about angels as I looked up at the fabricated Milky Way on the ceiling wasn't helping. My eyes became heavy, until the sound of footsteps and the clinking of a tray had me sitting straight once more. I turned expectantly to the doorway, amazed that he'd returned so quickly. He must have ordered takeaway.
Ben entered like a total domestic god, carrying a tray with immense concentration. He looked adorable, a tea towel slung over his left shoulder; all he needed was a little apron and he'd be husband material. It was a side to him I hadn't seen and, I had to say, I liked it.
'If you scoot over there's a side table that flips out from the arm rest.' His eyes darted to the side.
'What?' I said, flipping the arm rest back to find, sure enough, a side table. I looked at him with a huge grin. 'No way.'
'It's the couch that keeps on giving.'
'I'll say, it's like a bloody Transformer,' I said, readying myself for whatever was hidden under the silver dome on the tray. 'I think you've missed your calling in life, Mr Worthington. Ever thought about a career change to the hospitality industry?'