I love the way his eyes widen in terror, a hint of desire seeping through.
“Um—”
“Just kidding,” I say, depositing my shopping bag on the bed before making my way over to him. Close enough to smell his cologne without touching him. “I don’t want it to be quick. I want to take my time with you.”
He gulps. “Oh, God.”
“I swear, next time I’ll make you say fuck.”
A noise outside disturbs us and Ben jumps away from the door.
“What wasthat?”
“My sister or brother must be here. My mom only squeals like that when she sees them.”
17
BEN
Sloane and his wife are standing in the hallway taking their jackets off while Mom fusses over their six and seven-year old daughters. The girls are dressed in identical pink dresses with fur-trimmed coats and little fur-lined boots. They look like they’re dressed for Christmas, not Grandma’s birthday.
I hang back, feeling Elias hovering beside me. No one notices me for a good five minutes. But then Sloane glances through to the kitchen, smoothing a hand through his sleek, dark hair, and spots me.
“Benjamin.”
Mom turns, beaming from her interaction with her grandkids. “Benny, come and say hi to the girls.”
I kiss my sister-in-law hello, shake hands with my brother and bend to hug the girls. It’s awkward and stiff. My sister-in-law has to remind them to say hello to ‘Uncle Ben’ and tell me how much they’ve missed me. Painful.
I’m relieved when Mom introduces Elias.
They all have to strain their necks to look him in the eye.Even Sloane. I can’t deny the hint of satisfaction that shoots through me at that.
Mom is completely distracted by the girls, so we all go to change for dinner. I hate sending Elias off alone to the guest room, but for a stranger in someone else’s house, he appears remarkably comfortable. I’m jealous. I wish I could be as comfortable in any setting as he is. Even those momentary blips over his shoes don’t seem to have knocked his overall confidence.
When I go downstairs to meet him, he’s coming out of the guest room in a smart white shirt, his smart grey pants and the shoes he bought at Target. On him, they could have easily come from the atelier of any Italian artisan.
He catches me staring at him and smiles. “How do I look?”
“You know you look great.” I blush.
“So you do.”
“Boys, you’re ready!” Mom catches us on her way out of the living room. “You both scrub up well.” Her gaze lingers a second too long on Elias’ torso and I feel like a panther, ready to pounce on the competition. It’s ridiculous. I shake the thought out and paste on a smile when she looks at me again.
The dinner table is all set up with my mom’s favorite dinnerware. Silver napkin holders, discreet gold thread on the trim of the tablecloth. I glance over at Elias and catch him trying not to touch anything.
One of my mom’s rotating staff members comes around, pouring us all glasses of champagne. He barely looks old enough to have graduated high school. I remember how embarrassed I’d be any time I came home from school to find boys my own age pouring my drinks and pulling my chair out for me. I could never meet their gaze, and I alwaysfelt like I knew what they were thinking.Privileged rich kid. Spoiled little brat.They were thinking I hadn’t earned this life, and they were right.
Something touches my leg under the table and I flinch. Mom glances up at me and asks if I’m alright as I realize Elias has his hand on my knee under the tablecloth.
“Yes, fine, sorry.”
Madison and her husband sit across from me. She shakes her head the way she always does when I do something weird. It makes me feel five-years old again.
Elias gives my knee a squeeze until I look at him.
He cocks an eyebrow. I think it’s a signal so I nod back in response and he gives my knee one last stroke before letting his hand drop.
