The pain of my sore body is a welcome distraction from the pain of seeing Ben alive. I wish it would overcome me and mask the emotion I'm not sure I should be feeling. Is Ben really alive? How? Why? I have so many questions, but I'm not sure I'm prepared to learn the answers.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he says calmly. Almost too calmly . . . he sounds detached, like he's talking but not listening to his own words.
"No! No, I don't. Not now! And stop talking to me that way."
He flinches. "I'm not talking to you in any way."
"River, I'm sorry. I'm just so confused right now."
My tears turn into near-hysterics and he pulls me to him. "You don't have to apologize. I'm here to talk whenever you're ready." Then he kisses my head and just holds me.
After what seems like hours, my crying wanes. I'm drained, depleted of all emotion. I don't even have enough energy to cry anymore; I don't have any more tears left to shed. Looking up into his conflicted face, I know it's a reflection of my own. "I love you. This doesn't change anything," I whisper, feeling strongly that he needs to know this.
"It changes everything, Dahlia."
I can tell he's trying to keep his voice neutral but contempt flares at the edges of his words. His tone is despondent, disconnected, and I can't even fathom what he thinks about Ben being alive. He needs time to process this, just like me. But right now I think we both need to push it aside. Neither one of us is in the right frame of mind to discuss the impact Ben will have on our lives.
Just wanting to feel something other than pain or despair, I crush my lips to his, needing to let him know, to feel, how much I love him. He returns my kiss, but when I move to straddle him and start to lift his shirt, he gently pushes me back. He stares at me.
"No, Dahlia, not now. I can't right now," he whispers in a broken tone.
"River, it's okay. I'm okay."
He shakes his head and pulls me to him. He turns the TV on and lays us down on the couch, tucking my head under his chin. He starts to watch a boxing match and rubs my back. I eventually nod off.
But it's all waiting for me when I wake up a little while later. I'm lying against the back of the sofa and River is facing me with his arms and legs bracketing my body. While looking at him, everything comes rushing back. Why we fell asleep out here. What happened wasn't a dream or a hallucination. Ben. He's alive. He really was at Grace's, touching me, speaking to me.
With all of the questions pounding through my mind, I really can't even understand how any of this is possible. What was he talking about-he did it for me? Did what? One minute I'm running off to Las Vegas to marry the man of my dreams . . . the next minute the man I spent most of my life with, the man whom I thought was dead-is back.
The flickering blue light from the TV and the flame from the fireplace are the only lights in the room. I look at River and wonder how this will affect us. He's twitching in his sleep and I rest my hand over his heart to feel the steady beat. I can feel the warmth of his skin under his thin T-shirt and I want him-I want to touch him, to connect with him.
Leaning into him, I softly kiss his jaw as I run my hand up his chest. He instantly responds as his arms, already wrapped around me, tighten.
In his ear I whisper, "River."
He shifts slightly so that I am lying on top of him and his eyes open. "You okay, beautiful?" he asks as his green eyes flicker and then meet mine.
I nod and trace my tongue around the seam of his lips. He places his hand on my head and pulls it down to his chest, clutching me close to him, like he wants to hold me forever.
Lifting my head, I kiss his neck. I hear his breathing pick up, but once again he pulls me close and hugs me. I push myself back up so we're face-to-face. "River, I want you."
He closes his eyes and when he reopens them, he combs his fingers through my hair then pauses to cradle my head with both hands. He sighs as his forehead meets mine. I kiss the very corner of his lips and his mouth opens to welcome me. Our tongues entwine and I close my eyes as I slide my hands down his sides. I want to mold my body against his, showing him how much I truly love him. I need to show him for him and for me.
He tears his lips from mine as he places his hands on my shoulders and lifts me off of him slightly. "Dahlia, we should probably talk . . ."
But I cut off his words. I don't want to talk. I just want to feel his love. I suck on his bottom lip for a long moment and then run my tongue down his neck. Pressing my lips against his smooth skin, I wedge my knees between his legs and a small moan escapes his throat. I kneel and he spreads his legs wider. I study his long lean body that I have come to know so well and feel myself shiver in anticipation. My eyes lock on the elastic of his boxers peeking from under the waistband of his jeans. A hint of his toned abs shows from where his shirt has lifted and I want to lick what's under that black band.