Libby laughed. “Good thing Chase’s trust fund can handle it."
"Chase’s trust fund is going to need therapy." Georgia clinked her champagne glass against Libby’s. "I’m glad you’re here. Not just tonight—I mean, in general. In our lives. Liam is different with you. Better. Happier."
Libby’s throat tightened. "He makes me happy too."
"Good. Because if you hurt him, I know people." Georgia’s expression was serene. "Skating people. They’re vicious."
Libby laughed again and linked her arm with Georgia’s. “Noted."
The party was in full swing by the time Libby found her father.
Robert Bennet-Cross stood by the windows, nursing a whiskey and watching the crowd with the analytical eye he’d once reserved for hockey tape. He looked comfortable in his suit, more relaxed than she’d seen him in years.
"Quite the event," he said as she joined him.
“The Bingleys don’t do anything halfway, apparently. And here I thought the D’Arcy’s were bad.”
"Neither does your mother." He nodded toward the center of the room, where Linda was holding court with Helen D’Arcy and Kerrigan Bingley, the three of them bent over what appeared to be wedding planning materials. "They’ve been at it for an hour. I give it twenty minutes before they start arguing about venue capacity."
"Should we intervene?"
"Absolutely not. I’m enjoying the peace."
They stood in companionable silence, watching the party swirl around them. Jane and Chase were by the fireplace, radiating the particular glow of people who’d finally gotten their timing right. Chase’s hand rested on Jane’s lower back with easy familiarity. She leaned into him like she’d been doing it forever.
"The foundation work is going well," Robert said eventually. "Liam’s people sent over the quarterly reports. Forty-seven kids in the program now. A few of the older kids have legitimate college prospects."
"He mentioned. Said you’re the best thing that ever happened to their development program."
Her father’s mouth twitched. "He’s biased by marriage.”
“Liam D’Arcy, biased? Not even a little bit.”
Robert chuckled and took a sip of his whiskey. "He’s a good man, Libs."
Libby looked across the room, where Liam was standing with Chase, likely entering into a mutual-aid pact in relation to their in-laws. "Yeah. He is."
"Your grandfather would have liked him. Would have given him hell about that backhand, but he’d have liked him."
Her throat tightened. Robert Bennet-Cross did not talk about her grandfather often—the man who’d taught him to coach, who’d died before Libby finished college. "You think so?"
"He always said you could tell a man’s character by how he treated people who couldn’t do anything for him." Robert’s eyes followed Liam across the room. "The kids at the rink—he’s patient with them. Remembers their names, asks about their schools. Doesn’t act like he’s doing them a favor." He shrugged. "That’s character."
Libby hugged him, sudden and fierce. He returned it with the same quiet steadiness he’d brought to everything—her childhood hockey games, her college graduation, the long years when neither of them talked about what had been lost.
"I’m happy for you," he said into her hair. "Both of you."
As the evening wore on, Libby found herself observing her youngest sister. Lydia had cornered one of Chase’s cousins and was explaining the D'Arcy Foundation’s Youth Outreach Program with an earnestness that would have been unthinkable a year ago.
"She’s doing better," Jane said quietly, appearing at Libby’s elbow. "Therapy twice a week. Community college classes. She hasn’t posted a thirst trap or a sponsorship scam in four months. Not that there’s anything wrong with thirst traps.”
"I noticed."
“I think the FBI testimony was actually good for her, weirdly. Made her realize actions have consequences." Jane’s voice was warm but clear-eyed. "She’ll never be selfless. She’s still Lydia. But she’s trying."
"That’s enough."
They watched their sister in companionable silence. On the other side of the room, Chase caught Jane’s eye and smiled—the easy, uncomplicated smile of a man who’d finally gotten everything he wanted.
