Chapter 38: 37. When did my life become a soap opera?

"I'm here." The little girl answered when her dad called a second time.

All the while, I remained there staring, unable to think or speak. I did hear Ben gulp from his door when he saw where his daughter was. "Elle ..." he sighed.

"I just wanted to give this to Shawy before we go." The kid explained, showing him the treats she had in her hands.

I should have probably thanked her, or even only question how did she know my cat, but all I could do was stare at her. Long honey blonde hair, light brown eyes, she wore a cute white skirt and a white t-shirt that had a cute stamp on.

She looked adorable, no question. I tried to see resemblances between her and her dad, especially when he walked over to us, but all she had of him were the eyes. You really wouldn't say they're father and daughter. At the most, you'd think he's her brother, and it's not just about the age, it's simply that she doesn't look much like him. Other than the eyes, like I said. If you merely focused on those light brown eyes, then definitely, you would have no doubt who she is for him.

"I'm sorry ..." Ben murmured, flustered, hand on his daughter's shoulder. She seemed confused at his apology. I wonder if he's ever talked to her about me.

However, what caused me to jolt awake, was Jeremy poking my hips from behind. Before I could complain, he appeared next to me, smiling, Shaw clinging onto his shoulders – Reese is still on the fence about my boyfriend, but his sister likes him. "Hey, Ellie Jelly." Jeremy greeted grinning. "Ms. Shaw was wondering when you'd come back."

The child beamed at my kitten, and gladly took her in her arms. Amazingly, Shaw didn't argue, she actually welcomed the embrace, even happier when Elle opened the bag of treats for her.

Ben and I looked at the scene, baffled. We were the only two unaware of what was going on, it seemed. Jeremy winked at me, even when I sent him a dirty look, and especially when he invited Elle inside my apartment with the excuse of needing help with dinner.

"I didn't know ..." Ben cleared his throat. "She just ran off, I didn't know she would ... sorry."

Oh, Ben. I sighed, shaking my head. "It's ok."

"How uh ... how are you?"

I shrugged. "I'm okay. You?"

He shrugged as well. Then there was silence, awkward silence. Well, not total silence, because in the kitchen, Jeremy and Elle were busy half preparing dinner, half playing with Shaw. Reese just stared at the scene, unbothered at first, but when Elle went to him as well, he was happy. Cats do love kids, after all.

"They get along well." Ben mentioned, hinting at Jeremy and Elle. "I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe you don't like seeing my daughter with your boyfriend."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Ben sighed, raking a hand over his face. "Let's not play this game, JoJo. We both know you're way more perceptive than you let on."

Am I, though? If I'm so perceptive, why didn't I see the lies behind his cheery façade? If I'm so perceptive, why did I never even see that he felt something for me? Is he that good of an actor or am I that dumb?

"Elle! We need to go." Ben called.

"Just a minute!" She replied, still playing with my kittens.

"Not a minute, now. We need to go now." He sounded stern – fatherly stern – but also pretty frustrated.

"She can ... stay." I murmured. "My boss is coming over in about an hour, but meanwhile she can ... play with the cats."

"No."

"Ben ..."

"I have a gig, I need to go."

For a moment, I thought I'd tell him to leave her here, but more than just the awkwardness of it, the trouble would be the dinner with Ms. Benedetti. "She's cute." I blurted out instead. "She has your eyes."

Ben seemed taken aback by my statement, as if he hadn't expected me to notice the similarity or, Hell, to even remember the color of his eyes. It's been a while, after all. "Thanks." He said lowly.

"Ben, I uh ..." I cleared my throat. I'm sorry for being such a horrible friend? I'm sorry for rejecting you? I'm sorry for putting us both in such a situation?

"Joanna?" A female voice called from the elevator.

My eyes widened because I recognized it instantly. "Ms. Benedetti." I greeted, trying not to start hyperventilating for at least 2 reasons: a) I wasn't dressed appropriately for the dinner yet; b) she wasn't alone. As they walked over to my door, I felt like making myself as tiny as possible. Is that how everyone feels in front of this mesmerizing couple?

"Hi." My boss smiled. "We're a bit early, it's just that we went out sooner to be sure to be punctual ..." she eyed the man she was clinging onto – tall, dark-blonde hair, drop dead gorgeous –, who smiled, "this one attracts a lot of attention ..." they both laughed. I would have wanted to laugh, but I was trying not to feel like any man in front of Medusa. "So, Joanna, this is my fiancé, Lucas. Lucas, this is Joanna."

"Nice to meet you." He smiled politely – a pearly white smile that was blinding – stretching his hand to shake mine. Did I say drop dead gorgeous? Man, the pictures online don't make him justice.

He's like, a mix between Chris Hemsworth and Chris Evans. It's like God took all the beauty in the world and used it to make this particular specimen. Jeez. No wonder they call him the Golden Bachelor. He's super rich, super smart, super-duper hot and even a nice guy, based on his charity work.

"Uh ... hi ..." I only said when Ben – having providently slid beside me, elbowed my side lightly, to remind me not to look like a dead fish in front of my boss and her soon to be husband. "Oh, uh ... this is Benjamin Harris, my neighbor." I introduced him, much to his dismay. Ha. You suffer with me, Harris.

Ben nodded politely, not much fazed by the posh sight in front of us. "Nice to meet you." He shook Mr. Grant's hand, then Ms. Benedetti's. I guess that, with his job, he's kind of used to super rich people, not even the so-called Golden Bachelor can stun him.

"Uh ... come in ..." I murmured, stepping aside to let them pass, albeit awfully ashamed. They're probably used to who knows what mega-mansion, the shoe box I live in is probably as big as one of their bathrooms.

Much to my surprise, Mr. Grant smiled when they entered my apartment. "Does this remind you of anything?" He told his fiancée.

She giggled, bringing a hand to her mouth. "You're right." Then she turned to me. "This place looks so much like the apartment I lived in when I first came to New York, Joanna! If I wasn't sure I actually bought it, I would think this is it!"

"Well, the street is the same." Mr. Grant said.

"You lived in Brooklyn?" I asked, a bit confused. The Grant building is in the heart of Manhattan.

"Oh, yeah, I couldn't afford Manhattan." Ms. Benedetti and her fiancé laughed together, as if reminiscing stuff only they were privy to.

"Hi." Jeremy came to greet, wiping his hand on a cloth before shaking their hands. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me." Mr. Grant said with a polite smile. "I don't ... often get invited to uh friendly dinners." What does that mean?

Ms. Benedetti laughed, nudging him. "It's difficult to manage normal parties with friends when your face is all over the city." Cue everyone's laugh. I merely smiled. I felt back to awkward and shy me that couldn't utter a single word.

"And who's the little one?" Mr. Grant wondered, eyes on Elle who was still playing with my cats, as if totally unaware of the celebrities that just entered the apartment. Then again, why would she care.

"That's Elle." Ben replied firmly, yet sending me a side glance.

Ms. Benedetti seemed to catch that, because she looked in between us, then smiled. "I didn't know you had a daughter, Joanna."

Ah. Oh, no. No, no, no. Wrong thing to say, wrong, super wrong thing to say. "I ... don't."

"Elle, let's go." Ben called gruffly. She huffed a bit, but then joined her dad. "Sorry, I have a gig and we're getting late." He grabbed the kid's hand, so that they could walk swiftly to the door. "Have a nice dinner." He didn't slam the door, but he might have as well, given his rough tone and hasty departure.

"I said something wrong, didn't I?" Ms. Benedetti bit on her lip, apologetic.

"No, it's ... fine." I smiled a bit, albeit embarrassed. "Ben is my neighbor, like I said, and ... Elle is his daughter, not ... mine."

"Oh!" My boss half gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry!"

I didn't know what to say, so I remained quiet. In the end, there's no way to explain it, especially not without causing troubles in my relationship as well. Thinking back, maybe I should have told Jeremy about the kiss with Ben and what he confessed. My boyfriend is the one that offered to babysit Elle so that her dad and I could talk ... if he knew what happened and what Ben told me, I doubt he'd be too happy about it.

Ugh, when did my life become a soap opera?