This isn't weird.

Yes, And...

He had to parallel park on the street. It took an embarrassing number of tries, and when he got out of his car, it was still slanted almost two feet away from the curb. At least he hadn't hit anything... he was pretty sure.

Ben concentrated hard on keeping his gait steady as he approached the house. It was a nice house, in a nice neighborhood, with a neatly manicured lawn framed by neatly manicured shrubs. It had a neutral blue exterior and a roof lined with perfectly straight gray shingles that peaked into a friendly triangle. A white stone archway led to a spacious porch with a pristine white patio table and two pristine white chairs, powder blue cushions tied to the seats with tidy little bows.

The doorbell sounded with an unexpectedly cheerful chime. Arthur greeted him warmly as he opened the door. "Thank you for coming," he said with a smile. He paused, and with a note of concern, asked, "Did you drive?"

Ben shrugged and followed him in.

Arthur led him to a cozy little den that looked like it had been plucked straight from the pages of an IKEA catalog. Everything looked expensive yet modest, spotless in a way that should have felt sterile, but didn't. The walls were a pale gray, accented with elegant white trim and hung with carefully placed silver photo frames depicting the smiling faces of various people that Ben could only assume were his family. The mantle over the white brick fireplace was covered with a painstakingly curated line of model airplanes. Looking around the room, Ben spotted several more planes living on various other surfaces.

"Make yourself at home," Arthur told him. "I'll get you something to drink. Do you like tea? I have earl grey, or chamomile and peppermint, if you prefer. I usually drink the chamomile at night."

Ben was silent, so Arthur just said, "I'll be right back," and left the room.

Unsure what to do with himself, Ben walked over to the mantle and spent several minutes studying the model planes. He gingerly picked up a small red biplane to examine it more closely, and nearly dropped it when he was startled by the sound of a laugh behind him. Fumbling to catch it, Ben turned around to see Arthur in the doorway, holding a tray with two steaming mugs and a tall glass of water.

Arthur grinned at him. "Benny and the Jets," he chuckled.

Ben almost smiled. Almost. He put the plane back in its place.

"Please, have a seat," Arthur said as he put the tray down on the coffee table and sat down. "Thank you again for meeting with me. I've been hoping for a chance to get to know you better for sometime."

Ben took a spot on an immaculate white couch, half afraid he might ruin it just by touching it. He took a deep breath. "Look, Arthur, I'm sorry," he started. "I didn't know you and Millie were together the first time we—"

Arthur cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Please, Ben," he said. "You don't need to apologize to me."

There was a beat of silence as Arthur picked up his tea and sipped it placidly.

"I don't?" Ben asked.

"Heavens, no," Arthur replied, leaning casually back in his seat.

Ben looked nervously around the room, though he wasn't sure what for. "I don't know what's happening here."

"Relax, please," Arthur laughed. "If you need it to be addressed, then let's address it. My relationship with Millie is, as you know, very young. Only a few weeks. I went into it fully aware of how skittish she is around the idea of commitment, and we never discussed any expectations of monogamy. I actually fully anticipated this situation."

Ben didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

Arthur continued, "I can assure you that I haven't been oblivious to her feelings for you, Ben. She's talked about it at length in group. The two of you have shared a deep emotional intimacy for years. And I know there's a tension within that intimacy that Millie needs to explore before she can seriously contemplate a relationship with anyone else. There's never going to be a chance of a real future between her and me unless she's able to get that out of her system first."