Imperfect Perfection

Everything has to be perfect, Ben thought as he scurried from room to room. He'd insisted this year's cookie exchange be held at his house. He saw no other way. Any minute guests would be arriving. The final set of cookies had just been pulled from the oven and placed on the cooling rack. Cutting it a little close. But there was so much to do to prepare. 

As the master of the house and host of the party, he had to set the mood. Festive and merry. He spent hours decorating the tree, hanging the garland with care. The detailed snowy village display had taken nearly as long to assemble and perfect. He’d gone above and beyond for his cookie arrangement, searching out unique recipes. Salted bourbon chocolate chunk, Yugoslavian nut meringue, and black forest macadamia cherry. He knew the guests would bring the usuals: chocolate chip, oatmeal, sugar, and gingerbread. 

Most of the attendees were in their mid to late twenties and single, with a few couples amongst the group. The party was just another reason to get together, have a good time, and drink wine or spiked winter punch. How much effort would they really put forth? And that was exactly why he had to stand out from the rest. Everything had to be perfect.

The fire crackled in the living room while Christmas music delicately danced through the air. Faux candles flickered on the mantle and any bare surface he could find. The house smelled like the inside of a bakery. He swiped his fingers across his forehead. He wasn’t sure how he pulled it off, but he had. So far. 

The doorbell rang. He lurched, bumping the wine glasses he was pulling from the cabinet. His heart had been racing all day. He peered down at his watch. 

Five o’clock, right on time. 

Taking one more look about the room, he headed for the door. He blew out a breath before turning the doorknob. 

His mortal enemy would be in his house this evening. Derek, who’d been trying to steal his woman from him for two years. The debonair manner of his nemesis was almost successful in the beginning. Almost. Derek’s charm and charisma held an advantage over Ben early on. Penthouse, highrise parties, rooftop dinners. He could offer any woman a life of wealth, so naturally he chose the girl on Ben’s arm. He’d been persistent-they both had-but somehow, Ben had been victorious. His heart had chosen Rosalie’s, and hers found her way back to Ben. 

Everyone liked Derek. Who wouldn’t? If someone can’t see beyond the mask, then the mask has done its job. Few in the circle of friends knew Derek for what he really was, if he could even be called a friend. The only reason Derek associated himself with this group was to make Ben’s life miserable. Derek constantly worked to lure Rosalie back into his arms, while making Ben sweat and work harder. It was a game to him, and he enjoyed watching Ben squirm under his thumb. Derek liked power. That’s why tonight, everything had to be perfect. 

His hand gripped the doorknob. Lord help him if Derek was the first to show up. It was certainly something he’d do to spite him. He swung the door open, relieved to see his best friend. 

“Ben, hey man!” Joe extended his hand and pulled him in for a bro hug, slapping him on the back when their grip parted. “How’s it going?” 

“Nervous,” Ben said.

“Let me in, it’s freezing.” Joe stepped inside and handed Ben the plate of homemade cookies. 

“What kind did you make?” Ben asked.

“Chocolate chip.”

Ben chuckled. “Don’t you ever try making anything else?”

“What? It’s my specialty.” He slid off his coat, hung it on the hook by the door, and kicked off his boots.

“You mean Nestle’s specialty.”

 “If it’s on the bag, it must be good.” He stepped into the living room. “You really dressed this place up. Looks nice. Smells even better.” He rubbed his hands together, ready to dive into trays of cookies.

“Nah ah, not yet. Pour yourself some wine instead.”

“The host for the evening and you’re not going to pour your first guest the wine?” 

Ben rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding man. Relax. Maybe I should pour you a glass of wine. Loosen up.”

“Everything has to be perfect.”

“I don’t know why. We have this party every year, we all take turns hosting. You went out of turn and insisted we have it here.”

Ben gave him a sideways glance. “I have my reasons,” he said in a low tone. 

Joe opened his mouth, but the doorbell cut him off.

“Behave while I get that, and don’t eat any cookies until at least five more people arrive.” Ben eyed him one more time before he opened the door.

In no time at all the house buzzed with guests, chatter, and clinking glasses. He greeted his company as they entered. His pulse raced each time the doorbell beckoned, knowing at any moment Derek would be the one on the other side of the door. He’d probably be holding a bottle of wine, which cost more than Ben’s monthly house payment. He ground his teeth at the mere thought. Derek wasn’t even here yet and he was already under his skin. What he would give to be rid of the guy. Hopefully, after tonight, Ben would no longer have a problem. 

The chime rang in the hallway. Ben slammed his eyes shut. He knew who it was. 

Fashionably late. Typical. 

He could feel the judgemental and scrutinizing gaze through the wooden door. He strode towards the entry, and squared his shoulders before whipping the door open. 

“Ah, Ben, I passed your small house up several times. My eyes kept skipping over it.”

The jeer made Ben’s lip curl. 

“Hope the party hasn’t started without me. I brought this bottle of expensive wine.” He accentuated expensive. “The best wine there is. Everyone must try it.”

As expected, the bottle of  Silver Oak Napa Valley Cabernet did indeed cost more than Ben’s monthly house payment. He offered a fake smile. Did generosity still count when the intentions were cruel? What a pompous piece of- he stopped himself mid-thought as Derek stepped past him, slapping him on the back and jarring him forward. What a bully. After tonight, no more of this. 

Derek slid out of his Louis Vuitton loafers and handed Ben his coat. The other guests clamoured at his arrival and rushed to greet him. Ben glared at the back of his head as he hung the man’s coat on a hook. Derek was already bragging about the wine.

The house settled back down to the pleasant roar it held before the nemesis entered. The hype was over. Ben's arms brushed against several people milling about the crowded kitchen as he arranged the food on the counter. His elbow nipped the edge of a wine glass, sending it crashing to the floor. Everyone fell silent, all eyes on him.

“It’s all right everyone. It’s just a wine glass. Carry on.” You idiot. Tonight is not the night to be clumsy. He continued to berate himself while he swept up the glass. At least the mishap was out of the way before Rosalie’s arrival.

It neared 6 o’clock. All guests were in attendance, except Rosalie. 

“Ben.”

He flared his nostrils at the sound of his name coming out of Derek’s mouth.

“Where’s Rosalie? She hasn’t tried my wine yet, I’m saving the last bit for her. Didn’t she want to come to your party?”

Ben clenched his hand around his wine glass. It took every ounce of self control not to punch the smug look off the man’s face. 

He’d probably swing and miss anyway. 

“Of course she’s coming. I’m here.” Not nearly as damaging as one of Derek’s jeers, but satisfying nonetheless as he turned his back to him. 

The doorbell rang. His heart stopped. There was only one person who could be at the door now. 

Ben’s stress melted away at the sight of Rosalie; her blonde curls, her face gleaming, her bright blue eyes sparking in the Christmas lights. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he met her lips with his. She smelled like vanilla and tasted like sugar. 

She was perfect.

“Oh Ben, am I late?” she asked when their lips finally parted, brushing her fingers through the back of his dark hair. “I thought you said six.”

Indeed, he had. “You’re right on time, everyone else was early.” A little white lie wouldn’t hurt. He gave her another kiss before taking her coat. Who knows when he’d get another one once she entered into the same room as Derek. Her red turtleneck hugged her body like a glove. It tucked into a black and red puffy skirt with black pantyhose and heeled boots.

Everything will be perfect. 

Friendly faces and warm hugs greeted her. Derek, on the other hand, had the nerve to place his filthy lips on top of her dainty hand. A muscle jerked in Ben’s jaw. It’ll be over soon, he reminded himself. 

A flurry of gasps escaped some of the party goers, turning all heads in their direction. Ben’s shoulders slumped once he saw the giant red stain on his beige carpet. A wine glass lay nearby. 

Seriously?

“I’m so sorry, Ben!” one of his guests exclaimed, her face erased of all color. “I bumped into Derek. I wasn’t looking.” 

He looked at Derek who seemed anything but innocent. He could see right through that smirk hidden behind a face everyone thought was handsome. 

Yea, I bet it was an accident. Intentional is what it was. 

He looked back to the woman now kneeling on the carpet by the stain. “Molly, it’s all right. It’s not your fault.” He forced himself not to shoot a scowl at Derek. 

Several of his friends took out their phones and searched the best ways to remove red wine from carpeting. A mutual method was selected and Ben got to work. In the corner of his eye he saw Rosalie coming over to help. It was no surprise when she was intercepted by Derek. 

Hunched over the stain, Ben glanced over his shoulder and saw the two of them standing by the fire. Derek’s arm rested on the mantle. He stood too close for Ben’s liking. Although anywhere in the city was too close. No doubt a possessive stance and a deliberate act.

Joe squatted down. “Don’t let the guy get to you. Rosalie wouldn’t let anything happen.”

Ben stopped scrubbing and glared at Joe. “Rosalie isn’t the problem. It’s the hulk over there. He knows how to grind my gears.”

“That’s because you let him.”

Ben’s problems didn’t end there. He hardly had any time to socialize or carry out his plan for the evening. He spent most of his time cleaning up the disasters at every turn, the worst being when Joe approached him and pointed out the odd smell coming from the kitchen. Ben dashed to the oven to find the temperature had been raised to 420 degrees and the timer had been turned off. There was only one explanation. His eyes narrowed and burned with hatred as he watched Derek smooth talking Rosalie. Again. 

Can't he tell she doesn’t enjoy him? 

With every incident, Derek was there to distract her, so she couldn’t run to Ben’s aid. She was too polite to brush him away.

Ben stood in the kitchen, fuming with his smoking pumpkin pie still in the grasp of his oven mitt. What a waste. All his hard work hadn’t paid off. Derek was still the center of attention, and only when a disaster struck did the focus shift to Ben.

“That’s too bad, man,” his friend Ryan said, “better pay more attention next time.” 

What did he know? He probably got his cookie recipe off the back of a bag too. 

No one had any idea what Derek had been putting him through all night. The last straw occurred when Derek “bumped” into someone in the crowded home, causing the plate of food Ben had in his hands to end up all over his navy blue sweater. Derek’s only remark was, “Maybe next year we’ll have it at my place. Much more elbow room.”

Heat fled up Ben’s neck and stormed his face. His fists clenched. A thousand words scrambled his mind. If this wasn’t a Christmas party, and if he wasn’t a gentleman, he’d have a few choice words for that scoundrel. 

Ben closed the door to his room, and pulled off his sweater. A knock followed, with Rosalie’s sweet voice asking to come in. She stepped inside. His back faced her as she slid her hands up and down his bare skin and wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Ben, honey,” she said, her soft tone easing into his tense muscles, “I know how you are. I know you want everything to be perfect. But-”

“That’s not it. Well, part of it.” He turned around in her arms. “I can’t give you the kind of life Derek can. I can’t afford a penthouse, or an $800 bottle of wine, and shoes that cost probably just as much.”

She placed her fingers over his lips. “Do you really think any of that matters to me? If it did, I wouldn’t be here with you. I would’ve let him sweep me off my feet.” She linked her hands around his neck. “I know he’s been after me since I left him for you. All this time I thought it was harmless flirtation. I see now that it’s not. But for now, let’s go back out there and finish the evening. Let’s take the high road.”

How could he be angry about anything when he was the luckiest man here? He hugged her tight, not wanting to relinquish her. He gave her a kiss and picked a new sweater to match his beige dress pants.

No longer in a good enough mood to carry out his plan, he mingled with his guests as best he could. Nothing could ruin festivity like the sight of Derek approaching. “Ah, sorry about the pie, what a waste.” Derek said as he rested his hand on Ben’s shoulder. 

He knew better than to believe he was sorry. He shrugged off his grip. Derek’s smug grin melted from his face as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Words were building up inside Ben, threatening to burst through. Joe’s statement echoed in his mind “That’s because you let him.”  It was true. Ben never stood his ground. 

“You’ve been trying to steal Rosalie from me for years. And I’m sick of it.”

“Oh, Ben, lighten up. But don’t forget,” Derek leaned in, lowering his voice, “she chose me first.”

The floodgates broke. “That is enough!” Ben’s voice rose above the chatter in the room, silence following. “Get out.” He held his gaze with Derek’s. “You’ve been nothing but a bully with your constant jabs, jeers, and smug remarks. Take your fancy wine, your fancy shoes, your fancy car and leave. You will never enter my home again.” Rosalie came to Ben’s side and wrapped her arm behind him. “I will not be bullied by you any longer.”

For the first time since he’d known Derek, the man was speechless. Was that a little red he saw in his cheeks? Derek squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and left. 

Ben never felt more relieved. The curse of Derek was over. Not exactly how he planned it, but successful nonetheless. 

The evening dwindled down. Their friends left one by one, each taking a share in the cookies. Ben and Rosalie said goodbye to everyone and closed the front door behind Joe, the last to leave.

As Ben started cleanup in the kitchen, the bright lights in the house turned off. Rosalie entered and flicked the switch to the kitchen as well. 

“Come with me.”

He followed her into the living room and she stopped in front of the front window. “Look, it’s snowing.” They embraced each other and watched.

She looked up at Ben, “Will you play my favorite Christmas song?”

He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead, “I’d be happy to.” Silver Bells began to play and he held out his hand, “Dance with me?”

They swayed back and forth. He dipped her and she let out a giggle. He pulled her back up and she met his eyes. Right here, right now. With the snow drifting from the night sky, the music softly playing, and Rosalie’s eyes twinkling and gleaming in the glow of the Christmas lights, there was no better time than now. 

He stopped swaying and took a step back from her. Her eyebrows flickered in confusion. His heart pounded like a drum against his ribs, his neck pulsing. He swallowed. Reaching into his pocket, he knelt on one knee.

Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hands.

He held up a diamond ring. “Rosalie Marie,” he said as he reached for her left hand, “there is no one else I’d rather spend imperfect days with. No one else I’d rather fight for and defend. I want you by my side for all that life throws at us. Will you be my wife?”

Her chest heaved. She blinked away the shock. Then she grinned from ear to ear. “Yes! Yes I will!”

He slid the ring on her finger and took her in his arms. Their lips met with fervor.

On this Christmas Eve night, Ben realized something that would stay with him for the rest of his life. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect.