The last box is impossible to lift off the back of the truck. I don't need the label to tell me it's books.

"Let me carry that." Mike grabs it out of my hands. "Your room or our minivan?"

"The minivan. Is there space?"

"We're getting there but can squeeze it in." No more excuses to stay outside. I wipe the dust and sweat off my hand onto my jeans and run the bottom of my t-shirt across my face. Good choice on no makeup today. I would've looked like a deranged clown. I still myself and enter the duplex, careful not to bump Shelly's bike off the wall again.

Too many boxes shrunk the space inside my room, but I can breathe. Ben is not there. My French cottage was one room as well, but even with Mike's promise to deliver my boxes of books to my office at the University, the amount of stuff Mom packed will not fit.

"Your mother did an outstanding job labeling the boxes." Angie puts another dress of mine on a hanger and sticks it into the closet. "No surprises so far." I told Angie to be on the lookout for 'toys'. Mom informed me that's what she put on the box with the contents from my bedside table. No matter how French or liberal Mom is, the image of her packing my battery operated treasure chest of pleasure turned my cheeks bright red on our latest video call. The arrival of the container was perfect timing. Tall's apartment is overflowing with books without boxes of my stuff in it. I can move everything into my new living accommodations.

"Thanks again for helping." I walk around the boxes and read the list of contents Mom scribbled on each label. "Aha."

"You found the toys?"

"No, the towels." I rip the tape off and the aroma of lavender invades the area. Mom must've snuck in a sachet into the box. The room will smell like summer in Provence for a while. "Hey, don't bring the toys up with the guys around."

"Mike curated my collection, he won't mind—"

"La-la-la." I shove my fingers into my ears and take them out only when I see Angie's lips stopped moving. "Where's Ben?"

"You miss him already?" The eyebrow wiggling goes along with the question.

I feign nonchalance. "Why would I?" I thought I did. But the moment he showed up it's as if we're playing a game of hot and cold. Most of it is me being hot and trying to put down the fire before my internal organs melt, and him treating me with utmost politeness, like we were introduced to each other today.

"Why indeed." More eyebrow action from Angie. "I sent him to the store to buy some snacks. I'm starving and we have a couple of hours before dinner." Angie lets out a moan and stretches her arms in front of her. A big yawn follows. "It's the first time I had to do physical labor since the C-section."

"Feeling ok?"

"Yep, fine, but we won't finish with these today."

"Never expected us to."

Mike comes into the room and any illusion of space disappears. "So, I need to borrow Angie." He takes two steps in and kisses Angie's temple. "We have to return the truck."

Angie hangs another dress of mine and follows Mike out. "Should be back in half an hour, an hour tops."

Alone in the room I continue my search for the special box. I find it on the bottom of the four-box stack.The first two are light and announce more clothes. I move them by the closet. Might have to donate some of it, this built-in isn't large enough for the collection of fashionable ensembles Mom and I shopped too much for over the years.

Box number three says kitchen stuff. Have to figure out what I'm allowed to add to the pots, pans and dishes Lesley and Shelly already have. I put the box by the door and go back ready to take out and hide my secret stash. A knock interrupts me. "Come in," I shout in its direction too jelly-legged to get up.

Lesley pokes his head through. "Settling in?" I wave him in and he enters the room. There's nohwere to sit but the bed. Tall forced me to accept the single bed and bedside table I've been using at his place, because he doesn't need them and why waste the money I already don't have. His words, not mine.

"Getting there. I'll sleep here tonight, even if I'm in danger of being crushed to death by one of these box towers." I gesture at the culprits. "A question."

"Shoot." He sits down on the only corner of the unmade bed that's not covered with my chachkas and toiletries. The slacks and polo shirt combo wasn't an effort to dress up for the interview. It's Lesley's standard attire.

"Is there space for my stuff in the kitchen? I cook a lot." I nod toward the box by the door.

"Sure. Don't be surprised if you discover Shelly's exercise equipment in some cupboards. We live on takeout and cafeteria food. Anything you find in the kitchen is a garage sale find. Take all the space you need. I see some home-cooked meals in our future." Lesley grins at me and I grin as well, happy to have my kitchenware taken care of.

"I'm back." Ben announces from the threshold. This room is like a poorly done game of Tetris. The only way from the door is to the bed and Lesley is there.

"Hold on." I scoot on my butt to the nearest stack of boxes, but my attempt to move them is futile. I've run out of steam.

"I'm going to go." Leslie's legs brush by my shoulder as he balances on one foot to step over the box barricade. "I'm home the rest of the day. Just knock." He dances around Ben's grocery bags and closes the door behind him. It's Ben and I alone for the first time since the morning of Angie's baby shower weeks ago. Feels like ages.

"Where do you want these?" Ben thrusts the bags at me.

"What did you get?"

"Angie's favorite. The three Os"."

"Cheetos, Doritos and Oreos." We say in unison. Hard for me to imagine Ben buying junk food. And even harder to imagine him eating it. I motion him to hand them over and Ben steps over the hurdles to reach me.

I take the bags out of his hands and rustle one of them open. "Fudge covered mint creme Oreos. You need to bring some to Tall. He loves them."

"He shouldn't be eating so much sugar. You're going to give him diabetes with all the desserts you've been sneaking in." Ben's eyes circle the room and his now empty hands play an invisible piano on the sides of his pants. A new type of stimming I haven't noticed before.

But this is not about Ben. This is about Tall. "One eclair a week hasn't killed anyone."

"No." Somehow it doesn't sound like he's agreeing with me. "According to recent studies, the mortality rate of elderly men over eighty with a second hip fracture and subsequent hip replacement is around twenty-six percent. One eclair won't kill him but poor diet and lack of exercise increase his chances to be part of the twenty-six percent exponentially."

"You are not his doctor. I checked, and they said it was fine." Tall's my friend too. He might have stolen Angie from me, but Tall is on my side. I love Tall. I care about him. Ben doesn't have to be the knight in shining armor all the time.

"I don't want him to die."

The simple words cut deep. "It's not something you can control, Ben, nor can I, for that matter." I rub my eyes. Not all of us have our shit together like Ben does.

"I'm not suggesting that."

"Good." Not going to continue this discussion.

"It's not as if anyone is able to make him do what he doesn't choose."

I smile. "True."

"I'm taking him home on Monday," says Ben. "Would you be there?"

"Oh, no, sorry. I already told Tall I can't. I have classes and office hours until six, but I will drop by and bring dinner for three then."

"No. I teach Monday nights."

"Right. Taekwondo."

"Yes."

We are back to a polite exchange between strangers. Should I comment on the weather?

"Are you ready to start the cooking sessions?" asks Ben.

How could I forget? When Ben talks to me it's either about Tall or about Nonna's recipes. I did promise to start as soon as I get my notebook.

"I'm not going back on my promise. The notebook should be in these boxes." I scoot backwards until I reach the 'toys' box. "If you wish to help, you can start by searchins through them. Maybe start with the one by the door that says 'cuisine'."

"You don't mind me looking?"

"No." The only box I don't want him to stumble upon is front of me. The rest of my belongings are PG.

Ben rips the tape off the box with my kitchenware and picks up a tall skinny stainless steel pot.

"What's this for?"

"For steaming asparagus."

"Didn't know you need a special device for that." Ben puts in the metal mesh insert and finds the corresponding lid, sets it on the floor.

"It has other uses." I push my box to the side, lean on the bed to get up and join Ben in examining what used to be the contents of my kitchen.

Ben takes a stack of ceramic pots. The handles of the small gratin dishes point in different directions. He doesn't question those and he lifts the dutch oven out next. That must be why the box weighed a ton.

Ben and I are leaning over the box, my ear almost touches his. A force field forms between us. It prickles the air. Why do I always have to react to him this way? Two weeks after his breakup with Linda, and he's more formal with me than when I arrived.

"Would you like to go out? To a restaurant?" Ben's breath is on my cheek when he speaks.

"Might not be a bad idea." I keep my hands steady. My Opinel knives are a welcome sight as is the Madeleine plaques pan. "I need to pay you guys back for the help."

"I can pay—"

"No-no, my treat." I'll find some students to tutor. I'll be looking to earn extra cash, anyway.

"I'm inviting you—"

"I should've offered first. You guys worked so hard. And me paying for your food is cheaper than hiring movers. Although with the amount Mike eats, I might regret this offer."

"Someone mentioned my name and food in the same sentence?" Mike's booming voice comes from the doorway.

"Where are my snacks?" Angie slides under Mike's arm to enter. "Haven't made much progress without us, I see." She spots the grocery bags and crosses the obstacle course on the floor to rifle through them. She rips a package open. "Doritos anyone?"

"I thought there was talk of actual food," says Mike.

"Ben suggested we all go to a restaurant for dinner tonight," I say.

"Fuck, yes. Sounds great." Mike's eyes shine brighter. "Can you check with your parents if they'd stay longer?" He looks at Angie.

"Sure. I'll have to pump again before dinner, and take a shower, and change. How about you text us and we meet there in an hour?"

"There is a pub I wanted to try on the other side of the campus." As soon as I say it I know that'll be the worst option for Ben. Noises and crowds aren't Ben's favorites. "Or the Japanese place near your house, Angie?"

"It's a hibachi grill, and it's amazing." Angie claps her hands and jumps up and down.

"Let's do it." Mike tears the Cheetos bag open, shoves a handful of them into his mouth and proceeds to licking the orange goodness off his fingers.

"Is that OK with you?" I turn to Ben, who's reached the bottom of the box. The notebook isn't in it.

"That is a good place to eat." Ben packs my kitchenware back and picks up the box. "I'll take these to the kitchen and can keep unpacking." He's been helping all day and although he rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt and unbuttoned the collar, he looked plenty good to go to the restaurant straight from here and not call for any freshening up.

Not me.

"I have to shower and change." There are stains on my jeans and shirt. I don't need to run my hand through my hair to know it's a mess. The Keratin straightening treatment is wearing off and my natural curls are taking their revenge on me. It's almost as if the high gloss of France vanished and Chicago exposed my dull core I've been hiding from the world.

"It's settled then." Angie takes the grocery bag with snacks away from Mike, pushes him out of the door and lets Ben through with the box. The guys disappear into the hallway. "See you there in an hour." She winks at me.

There are several dresses Mom would approve of. I pick one that doesn't need ironing, grab a new bra and underwear and pile them on top of my shower essentials. I leave the room and take a left to the bathroom I share with Shelly. The space is bigger than what I had at the cottage used to be and the cupboard for my stuff is plenty big to transfer everything from the box.

I rinse the dust and sweat off in the corner shower, put my hair in a bun the way Mom taught me. The extra twist gives it the chique I've always admired in Mom. The mascara doesn't erase the tiredness in my eyes and a layer of lip gloss wouldn't stand up to Mom's going out standards, but it's all I have the energy for.

Back in the room the boxes no longer present danger to anyone.

"What's the system?" I appreciate the four groups Ben organized them into.

"These are your clothes." Ben points at the stacks closest to the open closet. He picks up another box off the floor and comes over. "These are photo albums, and decorative items." He indicated the row near the door. "And I'm not sure where you want this." He extends the box my way.  It's the toy box. The flaps are closed, but the tape has been removed. Have I taken it off before I left or has Ben done it?

"Did you open it?" My skin heats. Please, say no.

"Yes. The label said toys. You told me it's ok to look through everything," he says.

My cheeks are on fire, and I glare at his bare feet on the beige carpet. Those are not the only naked parts of Ben I've seen. We've had conversations that were much more blunt and anatomically correct. Him glancing at my sex toys should not be this controversial.

"Where would you like them?" Ben is still holding the box and I can't force myslef to touch it. I wouldn't put it past me to trip and scatter the contents about the room.

"By my bed." I clasp my fingers. I'm thirty and I behave like a teenager. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

"OK." Ben deposits it by my bedside table and picks up something off it. "I found it."

I register the familiar item in his hands. It's my "A Cuore Aperto" notebook. My copy has tabs sticking out, additional recipes stuffed in between, sticky notes on most pages. It looks very much like my messy kitchen in the cottage did. Messy. That about sums me up. I roll my lips between my teeth. There's no real reason for tears, but my tiredness, embarrassment and nostalgia create a cocktail that needs the salty liquid to complete it. I sniffle. My mascara isn't waterproof. So dumb. I shift my eyes away from Ben and to the stack of boxes.

"Are you crying?" asks Ben.

Not the best time for him to be observant. I don't reply, because if I do I'll cry for sure. I hold my index finger under my eye and walk over to my closet to drop off the dirty clothes in my hands. I close the door of the closet, turn around and Ben's there.

"Did I make you cry?" he asks.

With a shake of my head, I try to walk around him. I need to find my purse. His hand on my shoulder stops me and the contact scrambles my thoughts.

"What's going on, Amelie? You can tell me." His other hand lands on my other shoulder.

What do I tell him? I have nothing to complain about. I have a superb job, a place to live, good friends, my health. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is right either. "I'm just tired." I sound stilted. The only places on my body that feels something are where Ben's hands are. I'm hyper aware of those two patches of my skin.

"We don't have to go anywhere. I just wanted to talk to you."

I should've let him cook from the stupid book without me. "You've found Nonna's notebook." I shrug his hands off my shoulders. "We can start. No more waiting. What else is there to talk about?" No more tears in my eyes. No more shakiness in my voice. It moves. The cocktail of tears, anger, exhaustion and unrequited love shakes in my heart.

Ben's hands grab me tighter and then I'm pressed to his black shirt, my nose is right by the last closed button of it.

February 7th, 2021:

This is a long chapter. Hopefully not too boring, but let me know if there are parts that can be cut out. Setting up for some of the upcoming events.

I've been sick all week and my plan was to write at least three, maybe four chapters. Alas, I barly finished this one. I ran ProWriting Aid (got it with the coupons from my NaNoWriMo win) and I hope the chapter is smoother. Let me know if you notice a difference.

Thank you for reading, voting and commenting.