And that was yet another concern for Ben. “What are your parents going to say if you have a male roommate?”

Elle gave a careless shrug. “I’m twenty-nine, you know, and I’ve been taking care of myself for quite some time. My parents trust my decisions. And, yes, they’re rather old-fashioned about certain things but they also trust my judgment. If I assure them you’re strictly my roommate – my platonic roommate – then they’ll be fine with it.”

But Ben still wasn’t convinced, still felt a niggling sense of doubt about the whole situation. “And if I do agree to this, Elle, it needs to be understood upfront that roommates is all we’d be,” he reminded her in a gentle but firm manner. “I like and respect you too much to ever lead you on, or to let you hope we’ll ever be more than friends.”

The smile she gave him didn’t quite reach her eyes, but her tone was confident and casual as she assured him, “Well, of course. All of that goes without saying, Ben. After all, I’m dating Marcus now while you – well, sometimes I’m afraid you’ll never get over that woman who broke your heart, whoever she is.”

He had yet to tell Elle any specific details about the woman he continued to pine after, including her name or where they’d met or how long their relationship had lasted.

“That woman,” he said quietly, “wasn’t much more than a girl when I knew her, only twenty years old. And I never said that she broke my heart. It was actually the other way around.”

Elle stared at him, the surprise on her face evident. “You left her? You were the one to break things off? Then why - ”

“Why am I still so hung up on her if I was the one to end things?” he finished. “Because I left her for her own good. I had nothing to offer her back then, while she had absolutely everything to look forward to, all sorts of dreams to fulfill. I left so that she could do exactly that.”

“And has she?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but I’d be shocked if she hasn’t. She was a force to be reckoned with, even at twenty years of age.”

“You haven’t tried to get in touch with her then?” asked Elle thoughtfully. “Or even looked her up on social media?”

“No.” He shook his head firmly. “I’ve resisted the urge to Google her, or see if she’s on Facebook, that sort of thing. If I did – well, I’m not sure how much longer my good intentions would last. And while I’m in a better place financially and job-wise now, I doubt she’d ever want to see me again after what I did to her.”

Elle looked as though she wanted to quiz him further on the subject, but Ben guessed that the look on his face must have warned her off.

“I get it now,” she assured him. “You still love this girl and probably will for a long time, maybe even forever. And you aren’t ready to move on. So I get it, really I do. You and I are just friends. Friends and hopefully roommates.”

He hesitated for long seconds before finally giving a brief, decisive nod. “Okay. Friends and roommates. I’ll give my landlord notice tonight. Good thing I’m on a month to month lease.”

As he and Elle exchanged a brief, friendly hug, Ben only hoped he wouldn’t come to regret his decision. Because in spite of her repeated assurances to the contrary, he still wasn’t convinced that all she felt for him was mere friendship.

Chapter Seven

July

Ben clinked his champagne flute against Elle’s. The bubbly brew wasn’t his usual drink of choice – he was much more likely to choose beer, whiskey, or red wine – but he supposed that tonight’s occasion called for the rather shockingly expensive Brut.

“Congratulations,” he told her sincerely. “I know how hard you worked for this promotion. And you deserve it, Elle.”

Elle was practically giggling – a very un-Elle like behavior – as she returned the toast. She’d already had a few celebratory drinks with her co-workers, who’d dragged her out to a favorite watering hole after she’d given them the good news. By the time she’d returned home, she had been more than a little tipsy, another very atypical behavior for her.

And she had been so happy, so thrilled at having received the promotion she’d worked so hard for, that Ben had impulsively suggested they go out to dinner to celebrate. He’d had something of an ulterior motive in inviting her, however – that of providing him with a much needed distraction. Otherwise, he would have been spending the evening closed up in his home office flipping through the hundreds of photos of Lauren still stored on his computer.

The anniversary of the day they’d first met was always bittersweet for him. And it was one of the very few times that he permitted himself to not only gaze longingly at her image, but to let all the memories of their time together wash over him.

It had been his third night in Big Sur, and they were sitting out on the deck sharing dessert and a huge mug of Irish coffee. The fog had rolled in, and the night air was crisp and drizzly. Lauren had scoffed when he’d suggested heading inside, had half-jokingly told him to toughen up if he wanted to survive a summer on the northern California coast. And while he’d thrown a flannel shirt on over his thin cotton T-shirt, Lauren had remained stubbornly barefoot, clad only in her skimpy shorts and tank top. But he’d remained silent when she lit some logs in the fire pit and then huddled under a cashmere throw with him.

A dab of whipped cream from the Irish coffee had clung adorably to the tip of her nose, and he hadn’t been able to resist licking it off. It had only been a light, teasing touch, but it had been more than enough to arouse both of them instantly.

They’d forgotten the chill in the air, had tossed off the blanket just prior to stripping off their clothes. And then Lauren had boldly straddled his lap, lowering her tight, slick pussy onto his hard, fully erect dick. They had fucked like wild things out under the stars, until he had carried her inside to continue their frantic coupling in much warmer and far more comfortable surroundings.

He had snapped a quick photo of her just before he’d licked the whipped cream off her nose, and it was that particular shot he’d been gazing at morosely when Elle had arrived home earlier. The news she’d then shared about her promotion, and the invitation he had subsequently issued to dinner, had been necessary diversions to what would have otherwise been a night spent brooding and wishing for things he could never again have.

The alcohol Elle had consumed made her considerably more relaxed and chatty than he’d ever seen her before, and Ben couldn’t help laughing along with her during the meal. It had been a long time since he’d felt like laughing, since he’d allowed himself to have a good time. For four long years now he’d been beating himself up over what he had done to Lauren, even though he was still convinced it had been for her own good. So he resolved that for tonight, at least, he’d give himself a reprieve from the guilt and regret, and enjoy a good meal with a good friend instead.

By the time they had finished dinner, they’d consumed not just the entire bottle of champagne, but one of merlot as well, plus after-dinner drinks. Elle was giggling and weaving precariously on her sensible heels as they exited the cab, and Ben wrapped his hand around her arm to steady her as they climbed the stairs of the brownstone. He was more than a little tipsy himself, but at least the alcohol had helped to block out the poignant memories of the girl he’d met and loved four years ago to the day, the one he’d foolishly walked away from.

As he unlocked the front door, Elle began to sway drunkenly again, and this time he quickly slid an arm around her wait to keep her upright. She giggled again, leaning her head on his shoulder as he led her inside.