“Okay, first,” he said to Maddie, “I need you to swear you’ll keep this a secret.”

There was a much longer pause. Too late, Ben figured out why.

“Not from my brother! You can tell him all of this. Just from everyone else in the world.”

“Oh!” Maddie’s voice was relieved. “Yeah, I can do that. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath.

“Okay, the background to this is very long and I’m sure my brother has told or will tell you some of it anyway, but I’m in a rush here so I’m going to cut to the chase—I am currently on my way to buy an outfit for Anna Gardiner to wear as we drive seven hours from Palm Springs back to the Bay Area. The goal is for her to not be recognized, but if she is, she needs to look good in pictures. You’re a stylist, this is your job; please tell me what to buy for her, because I acted like I knew exactly what I was doing and I do not at all know what I’m doing.”

Maddie burst out laughing.

“Only you, Ben, would call me with this dilemma and have it be real and not a hoax. Is there time for me to ask questions like why you’re in Palm Springs and why you’re driving from there home instead of flying, or why she needs you—of all people—to buy her a new outfit or at least ten other questions I have in my head?”

He was going to get the loudest voice mail message from his brother in about ten minutes.

“Not really, no, but I promise, I’ll answer all of those questions and more when I get home if you help me out here.”

Maddie laughed again.

“I figured. Okay, give me two minutes to look up pictures of her style, and three more to figure out stores. I’ll text you. You owe me all of the details for this one.”

He sighed.

“Trust me, I know.”

 

* * *

 

—

As soon as Ben left the room, Anna had doubts. Many of them. He’d been so convincing when he proposed this shopping idea that she’d agreed. And yes, he’d been right that she didn’t want to wear her same yoga pants and T-shirt and hoodie from yesterday again.

But what did he know about shopping for her—or any woman? Did he have any idea what would look good on her? She had a bad feeling about this.

As she sat there and waited for Ben to come back, she got more and more stressed, but not just about the clothes thing. About the night before.

Not the sex—that part had been great. Really great. But why did she have to start crying afterward? And if she had to cry, why couldn’t she have waited until she was sure he was asleep? And also, why did she spill her guts to Ben about why she’d started crying? Granted, she couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said to him, and she was pretty sure she hadn’t told him the whole story, but she’d still told him more than she’d told almost anyone. Ben had mentioned therapy in passing on the drive down here yesterday, so she knew at least he wouldn’t be a jerk about that part, but still. Was he going to bring up what she’d said last night and ask questions she didn’t necessarily want to answer?

And even if he didn’t, was he going to want too much from her, after they’d had sex? Did she have to make it clear that that’s all last night was? Ugh. Today had the potential to be very stressful.

What the hell was she even doing? With one phone call, she could be on a plane from Palm Springs back to San Francisco, with no need to wait for a weird and probably ugly and ill-fitting new outfit from a man who was excellent in bed but who she didn’t know much else about. And did she really want to do another day-long drive today?

But . . . she couldn’t abandon Ben like that. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to abandon Ben like that. She had no idea if their drive back up north would be as comfortable as their drive down south—sometimes sex could make things awkward, and it might be even more so after her middle-of-the-night, ill-advised, tearful revelations—but they still had another week of working together, so she might as well see what it would be like.

She pulled out her phone while she waited. There was a text from her brother.

I should have known you would do that. How did mom and dad look?

 

Oops. She should have texted Chris last night to confess all after leaving the hospital. But, well . . . she’d been a little distracted.

Don’t let mom make you feel bad about telling me (I’m sure she’s already tried). I didn’t mean to come down to Palm Springs! But well, one thing led to another. And dad’s ok, so all’s well that ends well. (I know. I owe you one). Mom looked tired, Dad looked fine, after all that

 

By the time she poured herself some more coffee, Chris had already replied.

She did already try, but it didn’t work. And yes, you owe me one. But I know you’re good for it. He really seemed ok?

 

She’d always known Chris wasn’t as chill as he seemed.

He really seemed ok. I swear.

 

She should also check in on her parents.

How are you feeling today? Please take it easy, both of you!

 

Her mom was the one to text back.

Your dad is feeling fine today, but we’re both a little tired. Don’t worry, all we’re going to do today is drive around and look at some trees—with plenty of water!

 

Hmm. That had better be true.

Ben wasn’t back yet. Did he even know her sizes? She searched through her email for his number.

Everything okay? Do you need any help with the shopping?

 

She realized a few seconds later that he didn’t have this number.

This is Anna, by the way.

 

He texted back right away.

Heading back now! How’s your dad, have you heard from them? (I knew this was Anna)

 

She laughed at that.

Just now, mom says dad’s doing ok!

 

A few minutes later, Ben threw open the hotel room door.

“Okay, Cinderella, time for the ball!” He had a big grin on his face, and two very full bags in his hands. Anna had to laugh, no matter how doubtful she was about this whole shopping excursion.

“What . . . what all did you get?” she asked.

He came over to where she was sitting on the bed.

“Well, I wanted you to have options! Plus, I had no idea how anything would fit, so I just grabbed what seemed like it would work. Oh, and I also stopped at Target”—he held up one bag—“to get something for me to wear. And some snacks, you know, for the road.”

“Okay,” she said. Was he stalling? It seemed like he was stalling. She wiggled her fingers at him.