The Good Enough Husband (16 page)

“And this is my sister, Abbe, inappropriate as always,” Ben said by way of formal introduction.

“Oh, hush Benji. You’re forty and Hannah is a grown woman. I’ll assume I haven’t assaulted her virgin ears.”

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind,” Hannah said di
plomatically.

Ben looked away from the tight jeans cupping Hannah’s cute little butt. A little impromptu sex wouldn’t be half-bad. The last two nights had been torture. He was back to masturbating in the dark, as if he was fifteen years old again. For two torturous nights, he’d stroked his own penis under the covers, hoping his parents didn’t walk in. Ben couldn’t wait to get to the hotel room he’d r
eserved for them. No way was he going to try to make the trek home tonight. The party gave him the perfect excuse to get a little room service, and get Hannah alone without his parents or even Cody for a good chunk of time. His pants felt a little tight and he tried to think of anything but sex. Damn his sister for bringing it up at a kid’s party.

Thankfully, the lights dimmed and the room grew quiet. His mom walked in with cake candles lit. A woman with wavy brown hair, pale skin, and Asian looking eyes came into the room, hol
ding what must be baby Logan.

Abbe stage-whispered in his direction. “That’s Hallie and L
ogan.” Like he wouldn’t have guessed. His mom had mentioned one too many times how cool it was that Marty had married a half Korean woman, and how cute the baby was with his straight black hair and blue eyes when Marty and Hallie’s eyes were chocolate brown. His dad liked to say that the blue eyes came from his side of the family. Ben tried to banish that thought whenever possible.

An older Asian woman and tall Irish looking man, clearly a long married couple, followed. Hallie’s parents. All the grandp
arents sang a song for the baby, in what he quickly realized was Korean, and blew out the candles. When had they gotten together to practice that? His mom did not know any Korean.

Then bright bursts of camera flash filled the room, temporarily blinding him as everyone cooed and fussed over Logan. The baby drooled in response. What was the big deal with babies? As he was thanking his lucky stars that he’d managed to get away child-free for so many years, he noticed Hannah rubbing her flat stomach and tearing up. Not her, too. She got weepy over babies? Was no one immune to the little germ carriers?

His mom took the cake back to the kitchen for slicing. The crowd in the dining room thinned out. Then he saw Marty. It was like looking in a fun house mirror. His half-brother looked like a soon to be middle-aged version of himself.

“Ben.” Marty extended his hand. “Long time no see.”

Ben reluctantly grabbed the hand that reminded him so much of his father’s. “Marty. Happy one hundred days, is it?”

Marty nodded. “
Baek-il
, it’s a Korean thing. Probably from back in the time when many babies didn’t survive long after birth. I hear the
dol
, the first birthday, is even more elaborate. I’ll probably need all nine months to prepare.”

Ben didn’t know what to say to this man. Two conversations in twenty-five years didn’t make things any less awkward. He was infinitely grateful when Hannah intercepted.

She extended her own hand. “Hi, I’m Hannah Keesling, Ben’s friend. Congratulations on your son. He’s beautiful—but I’m partial to multi-racial babies myself.”

Marty laughed, awkwardness dissipated. Ben watched Hannah ask all the right questions about nursing, sleep and baby mile
stones. She and Marty laughed about the baby unexpectedly rolling over the first time—almost off the changing table. They talked about whether Marty and Hallie were going to have more, and what their work schedules were going to be like now that Hallie’s maternity leave was coming to an end.

This was a side of Hannah he’d never seen before—the dome
sticated side. The car, her clothes, and her attitude all spelled big city. He didn’t think she’d be so much at home at a suburban baby party. When Hallie brought Logan back in, Hannah held him, cooed to him, and made all the appropriate noises. Rather than being scared, Logan was fascinated by all the bracelets adorning Hannah’s wrists. His little fists looked like they were trying to open and grasp at her hammered copper earrings. When he looked sleepy she rocked him, and the tiny sleeping form curled against her shoulder, infinitely trustworthy.

His dad joined the circle. “I’m so happy to see my two boys t
ogether,” he said extending his arms and clapping both heartily on the back.

The buzz of good vibes he’d had going disappeared in one hot second. Why did his dad have to go and say something stupid like
that? He was gratified to see that Marty, shifting on his loafer clad feet, looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Mr. Cooper. I’ve only met Ben for the second time…”

“What’s with this Mr. Cooper business? You haven’t called me that for years. I’ve always been Walter, or even Dad.”

The Mr. Cooper business had been for his benefit. Ben reeled back, realizing that the relationship between this Marty Wexler kid and his father was probably closer than he’d thought. All those years his father had kept this relationship a secret, and even more years when this was an open secret—his dad and this guy, who was no longer the kid he remembered, had probably gotten close. He’d never heard that Marty’s mother had married or anything, or that Marty had another father figure in his life. His own dad, the one he saw at breakfast, dinner and bedtime, was it.

He had the briefest flash of sympathy for this man who’d only ever had a part-time dad, but it was washed away with the notion of all the lies that had been told to obscure the truth from his mom, his sister and him.

Hannah gently handed the sleeping baby to Hallie, stood and stretched.

He didn’t need this. Marty Wexler was not the person he needed to build a relationship with. That person was Hannah and he wanted to get to it.

“While I’d love to stay dad, Hannah and I have to make the long drive back.”

Hannah looked at him questioningly, but fortunately didn’t say anything. He’d mentioned his plans for the Woodland Inn to her before they’d left for the trip. She had smiled brazenly, looking as excited about the night ahead as he’d felt.

His dad looked crestfallen. “You won’t stay for the night? With Hallie’s parents here, I thought I’d take all my children out for dinner. On me.”

Dad had put him between a rock and a hard place. He hadn’t mentioned to his parents his plans with Hannah. Some things he liked to keep to himself. He closed his eyes for a second. If he didn’t do some fancy footwork to extricate himself, it would be a long night with his family and the Wexlers.

***

As they slid into the largest booth at Osteria Fasulo, it was clear that Ben had lost his dancing shoes. With Logan’s grandparents in town, it looked like Hallie and Marty were looking forward to a date night, but like Ben, they’d been shoehorned into tonight’s festivities. Abbe and Dad seemed to be the only two people happy to celebrate this mini ‘family reunion.’

All four couples took up quite a bit of space at the table for eight. Introductions were made. It had been some time since he’d seen Abbe’s husband, Isaiah. He was a senior staffer in Sacrame
nto. With California’s perpetual slide toward bankruptcy, he was always there working out one budgetary problem or another well into the night. He’d been a good match for his sister. He was quiet and steadfast in the face of her ebullient effusiveness. Glad that at least he was seated next to Hannah, even if they couldn’t be any closer right now, Ben grabbed her hand and pulled it to his thigh, lazily circling her soft palm with his thumb. In less than twenty-four hours, if nothing else went off the rails, he and Hannah would finally be alone.

***

Hannah looked around the table. This was one hundred and eighty degrees from where she’d been last week in the Keeslings’ Fullerton backyard. A new man, a new family, and a new dynamic.

After everyone was seated and situated, Walter tapped the side of his water glass with his fork. Conversation paused.

“I want to thank you all for being here. This is the first time I’ve ever had all of my children with me.” Ben shifted in his seat. He would never be a championship poker player. Although he looked like he was trying to hide them, Ben’s emotions were written all over his face. Right now his features were shifting between discomfiture and latent anger. Hannah shifted uncomfortably in her own seat. She’d never want that anger directed at her.

“You okay?” Ben asked under his breath.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to give a reassuring smile. She squeezed the hand on his leg. He was doing crazy things to her libido with his thumb. But that wasn’t what was making her uncomfortable. His attitude toward his father made it clear that she needed to keep her past with Michael absolutely separate from her present, and hopeful future with Ben. She’d had years more practice hiding her emotions. Easily covering her trepidation, she said, “This is a little awkward.”

“I know. I’m sorry that you got wrapped up in all this. I wanted to be with you this weekend.”

“It’s okay. We have nothing but time,” Hannah said. She wanted to give this relationship time and space to grow. Whether that was two months or two years, she was in for the long haul.

After the food came, Walter tried to steer the conversation. “Ben, did you know that you and Marty have a lot in common?”
Hannah looked from Ben to Marty and back again. Both men looked pained at their father’s attempts at creating camaraderie. “Marty’s been talking about taking out his grass and going for something that doesn’t suck up water from the aquifers like a sponge. I mentioned to him that you don’t have grass in front of your house either.”

“Dad,” Ben started, “I live on the ocean. Nothing much grows on the seaside. The pines are what grow nearby. I figure they’d do as well at my house as they do in the national forest.”

“Exactly what I was saying to Marty. He should take his cue from the national parks around here.”

Walter went on like that for much of the meal, picking up little things that his ‘boys’ as he kept calling them, shared. He was grasping at straws.

“Dad. Stop it,” Ben said, finally while they were finishing up tiramisu and coffee.

“Benji,” Elaine said in a warning tone.

“Stop what, Ben?” Walter asked.

“Stop trying to push Marty and me together. We’re related. I get that. You cheated on Mom, and now Marty’s here.” Elaine gasped, and put her hand in front of her mouth. When she reco
vered from the shock, she looked like there was plenty she wanted to say, but Ben plowed on. “I’m sure Marty’s a swell guy, Dad, but I don’t want to be friends with him, I don’t want to become an instant family. I’m forty years old—too damn old to get a baby brother. You kept him a secret. You kept us all apart. You lied again and again. I’ve made my peace with that, mostly for Mom’s sake. But we’re not going to be the Brady Bunch. I’ve got one real sibling, and that’s Abbe. No amount of pushing us all together is going to change that.”

11

Walter rocked back in his seat. Hannah had no idea what had been said in the past between Ben or Abbe and their parents regarding Marty’s existence. But she guessed from their reaction, this was the most explicit Ben had ever been in his dismissal of the family ties his parents were trying so hard to forge.

“Well, Ben, you may not like that you have not one sibling, but two. But Elaine and I have discussed this. We’ve made our minds up to bring Marty and Hallie and Logan, for that matter, into our lives. And you might as well get used to it, because we’re changing everything. Your mother has forgiven me, I think it’s time you did, too.”

“Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you’ve changed your will and left everything to Marty.”

“Well, you’re about one third right there, Benji. We did change our trusts, though I didn’t plan to talk about it here. We’re leaving a third to each of you.” Walter pushed his chair back from the table and strode from the restaurant.

Ben looked at his sister. “Did you know about this?”

Abbe shook her head. “God damn it, Ben! Why did you have to do this now?” She got up from her chair, running after Walter.

Hannah watched the family drama unfolding before her. If she’d been anywhere but Davis, she’d have picked up her stuff and quietly slipped away. But she had nowhere to go.

She tugged at the hand in her lap. “Ben, maybe we should go.”

“We’ll meet you at home, Benji,” Elaine said.

At home? Whose home? Their home? Now that would be awkward.

“Oh, Elaine, we will not put you out. Ben and I can…”

“Mom, I made arrangements to stay at the Woodland Inn,” Ben interjected. Hannah’s relief was short lived.

“Of course you’ll stay with us. And you too,” Elaine amended, not wanting to be misunderstood. “I think you and your father need to talk. You can’t do that if you’re across town.”

The ride to Ben’s parents’ house was silent. With every stree
tlight they passed, she could see his jaw working.

“We don’t have to go in,” Hannah said.

“My mom puts up a good front,” Ben said, putting the car in park. “She’s not the type to ask for help, outright.

His parents weren’t home yet, and he sifted through his keys to find the right one. After turning off the alarm, he turned on the lights in the living room. Hannah shouldn’t have been surprised
that the house looked a lot like the one in Shelter Cove minus the nautical touches. It was all wood, and leather, and flower patterned linen. On any other occasion, she might have thought it cozy and comfortable. Now she stood there with her overnight bag feeling awkward.

“Come on upstairs,” Ben said taking her bag in one hand and his in the other.

“Do you have enough room?”

He stopped halfway up the carpeted stairs looking down at her. Despite their ages, she didn’t feel comfortable sharing a room with Ben in his parents’ house.

“We’ll stay in my room. My parents made it into a guest room years ago. It has a queen bed, now.”

“What about Abbe’s room?”

“Abbe?” Ben looked at her questioningly. “You don’t want to sleep with me?”

Hannah could feel heat rushing to her cheeks. “Ben, I missed you…a lot…but your parents are under…a lot of stress, and I don’t want them to feel uncomfortable…”

“Hannah, we’re consenting adults. You’re sleeping with me.”

He turned back to the stairs and ascended two at a time, turning right into a bedroom. She had no choice but to follow. A door slammed below. She could hear the murmur of voices.

“Ben, Hannah,” Elaine’s voice filtered upstairs. Hannah didn’t get any more than a glimpse at the guest room before she turned to go back down.

Elaine poured the remaining group, Abbe, her husband, Ben and finally Walter, small glasses of port in the large study. The masculine room was obviously Walter’s domain.

Hannah leaned toward Abbe. “Did Marty and Hallie go home?” she whispered.

“They said they had to relieve her parents of baby duty. Who knows? But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel bad for Dad and Ben.”

The room lapsed into silence. Hannah took a sip of the port. The sweet liquid burned a fiery path down her throat. It tasted like it was one hundred proof. She put the glass down. Anymore of that and she’d be useless in the morning.

Walter lifted his head from deep thought. “Ben, Abbe. I love you two. I always will. I know that accepting Marty like a brother is probably too much to ask of you. But I love him too. He’s my child as much as you are. I refuse to shortchange him. Your mother and I agree on this, and won’t hear any more argument.”

“Dad, what you do with your money and your time is your business. Don’t ambush me again. It’s my choice as to what kind of relationship I want to have with him. If that’s none, I want you to accept it.”

“Can I ask you why, Benji?” His mother’s voice took on a pleading tone. “You’ve always had the biggest heart.”

“I can’t start a relationship based on a lie.”

Hannah tried not to reel back physically, though she felt like Ben had slapped her in the face.

“Marty didn’t lie to you. He’s the innocent one in all this,” Elaine said.

“You’re probably right, Ma. But the situation is so messed up. Every time I see him it brings up all the years Dad deceived us.”

“Is this about Samara?”

Ben looked pointedly toward Hannah. “Ma, can we leave this for now? I’ve got to get to bed so we can leave for the North Coast first thing in the morning. I have to get back to work.”

Ben put down his unfinished drink and left the room. Hannah wished everyone a good night, and followed Ben upstairs.

When she closed the door behind them, Ben grabbed her roughly and pulled her to him. The gentleness she’d come to ass
ociate with Ben was gone. In its place was a storm of pent up emotion. He claimed her mouth, opening hers without ceremony. His tongue boldly stroked hers. Ben’s body vibrated with anger, desire, and passion. Where she would have gentled his movements, she took the punishment instead—overwhelmed with guilt for the lies she’d told him. Ben’s hands shoved up her shirt, and released her breasts from her bra. He pushed her against the door and stroked between her legs over her jeans, while suckling first one nipple, then the next.

Hannah forgot his anger, forgot her guilt, but remembered the sensations he had aroused the last time they were together like this. Her fingers tangled with the leather of his belt. She itched to stroke him, bring him the same pleasure he’d brought her so many times a few weeks ago. A faraway knock sounded. Ben pulled back, di
soriented. The knock sounded again.

“Ben, Hannah, I brought you some towels. The housekeeper doesn’t leave them in here anymore.”

Hannah swiftly pulled her shirt down over her bare breasts, and sat primly on the side of the bed.

Shoveling a hand through his hair, Ben pulled open the door a crack. He murmured something and closed the door, reappearing with a thick stack of towels in his hands. He dropped the linens in the adjoining bathroom and came to sit next to her on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”

She pressed a finger to his full lips, ignoring the electricity shooting up her arm. “It’s okay. A lot has happened tonight. Why don’t we go to bed…to sleep. It’s a long way back tomorrow.”

Hours later, Hannah woke from a deep, dreamless sleep. Shielding the light of her phone from Ben, she checked the time.
2:30
. He was sleeping soundly. She lay awake flat on her back, forearm thrown over her eyes for half an hour, trying not to move or disturb the man next to her. Despite her best efforts to divert them elsewhere, she kept thinking about holding that precious little bundle, baby Logan.

She hated the hormones that made her want to have and hold a baby, a dream that was fading fast. She’d gone so many years not thinking much about children, then one day the empty womb fee
ling smacked her in the face. She’d been at Trader Joe’s buying wine and cheese when a pregnant woman pushed a cart toward the register. In the little seat was a three-year-old girl whose untamed frizzy hair reminded her of dozens of childhood photos of herself. With a fierceness she’d never felt before, she wanted to be that woman. To feel the swell of pregnancy, to have a toddler to cuddle and hold. The feeling took hold that day in downtown Brooklyn and rarely let go.

Her desire to become pregnant and to have
this
man be the father, sent arousal thrumming in her veins. At 3:00, she tiptoed to the bathroom and relieved herself, hoping that would make sleep come, make her desire for consummation go away. It didn’t. The more time passed, the more Hannah became aware of the living, breathing, sexy man next to her. He’d gone to bed in boxers. Against her better judgment, she shifted to her side and stroked Ben’s broad back, bare to his waist. Michael had always hated when she touched him outside the boundaries of sex. Wary of Ben waking and swatting her hand away like a fly, her touch was light as a butterfly.

Instead, his large hand caught hers. Surprise made her gasp. Then her hand flew to her mouth, too late to cover the sound that escaped.

“Hey lady,” Ben said in a sleep roughened voice.

“I’m sorry…”

“I love the feel of your hands on me.” He turned, now flat on his back. She could see his outline in the faint moonlight filtering through the wooden blinds.

Emboldened, she continued to caress him, sliding the hair from his brow, tracing his prominent nose, his full lips. Her hand tangled briefly in the fine hairs that sprinkled on his chest, circling the flat nipples there—feeling the small protrusions harden. Sliding down his flat, hard belly, Hannah slipped her hand through the slit of his boxers, and eased his penis out. Hard pulsing flesh catching for a moment on the now restrictive fabric.

His chest rose and fell rapidly and his breath started coming harder and faster. She bit back a moan as his hand slid up her loose tank and a thumb slid back and forth across her nipple. Pulling away, she knelt between his legs, and took him full into her mouth. She wanted to do something for him. No more than two strokes in, he pulled her back up him so that they were face to face.

“Ben, I want to make you…”

“Hannah, that feels good. Really good, but I want to make love with you. I want this to be good for both of us. More than anything, I want to be inside you. I want us to be in this together.”

As Ben eased her panties down and off, and leaned over to fish a condom from his shaving kit, she tried to push Michael from her mind. Her soon to be ex-husband, would have taken a blow job over intercourse every single time if he had a choice. If they w
eren’t trying for a baby, she didn’t think he’d ever want to have sex with her that way. It was unfathomably sexy that this man wanted both of them to share each and every experience.

Ben kissed her then, blotting out thoughts of years of selfish sex she’d subjected herself to. He tried to go slow, to make sure it was good for her. But his generosity alone made her wetter than she ever remembered.

She knew she should wait until they got home, but passion overwhelmed her common sense. “Ben, fuck me. I need you inside me.”

And he did, first slow, then with increasing speed as they both got close to the edge. She stopped caring about concealing her moans, or keeping the bed from squeaking. She wanted the fulfil
lment that this man so easily gave her.

Hannah would never know if his parents heard them that night because Ben woke early, insisting they leave. She sensed that his anger hadn’t fully dissipated despite the passion they’d shared.

***

The next few weeks were as close to perfect as Hannah had e
ver experienced. Ben was with her nearly every night that he wasn’t working or she wasn’t focused on her artistic endeavors. They still shared separate houses, but they came together for dinner, conversation, and the most passionate sex she’d ever had. Until she met Ben, she’d compared Michael’s narcissistic lovemaking with the earnest adolescent fumblings of Lucas, and neither was particularly satisfying. Those men could not hold a candle to what she and Ben shared. He was the most giving partner she’d ever known. He insisted that sex was always good for men, and that his primary goal was to make sure she was sated and satisfied. She was definitely both.

Hannah had blossomed in a way she hadn’t imagined up here on the North Coast. She’d had Michael’s brother, Kendall—at least one Keesling was still speaking to her—ship her photographic ca
talog from storage. She’d scanned in all her best film work from the negatives she’d so carefully preserved, and touched up the digital files. Now she was putting together a spring show that contrasted portraits in urban New York and Los Angeles settings with rural portraits. During one of her day long excursions in the area, she’d found a gallery interested in the work she’d started here with Ben on the black sand beach.

Tonight she was going to surprise Ben, and hopefully not e
mbarrass herself. She’d been doing some song writing, something she hadn’t done in years. She was going to join the band that had covered her dad’s music for a few songs. The band, Funk Fiesta, was one of four that rotated for the Wednesday night jazz spot. In exchange, they agreed to back her up on the two songs she was debuting tonight.