Margo sighed, resting her head on Emma’s shoulder as she looked out across the yard to where Ben was standing on the other side of the dance floor now, talking with Knightley. “I mean, isn’t he hot? He’s so tall, I just want to climb—”
Emma cringed. “Ew, Mar.”
“No, seriously, Em. Justlookat him.”
Emma rolled her eyes as she let her gaze drift over to the brothers. They were both objectively handsome. Ben was tall, but then, he always had been. So was Knightley. That was really where the similarities ended, though. Ben was lanky, but recent years had broadened Knightley’s back and shoulders. And while Ben kept his black hair cropped close to his head, Knightley’s was still long on top, so he was always running his hand through it to try to keep it away from his face. But it wasn’t just their difference in appearance; it was also how they carried themselves. Ben had always been aware of how he looked and seemed to enjoy the effort required to maintain it; his smile was practiced, his clothes obviously designer. Everything about him was curated. Knightley always appeared perfectly put together too, but unlike his brother, he never seemed conscious of it. He walked with a calm confidence, a sly smirk always present on his lips, and intense eyes that seemed to make women feel like they were the only person in the entire world.
At least, that’s what it looked like to Emma. Objectively.
“Just… so hot,” Margo murmured.
Emma blinked. Right. They were talking about Ben. “Yes, he’s very handsome.”
“I’m going to have so many of his babies.”
Emma laughed. “Okay. But why don’t you say hi to the Crawfords first?”
Margo shrugged. “Fine.”
As she watched her sister go, another glass of champagne found its way into Emma’s hand and soon someone in the far corner announced it was time for dinner.
“Poor Margo,” her dad said to himself as he walked to the table. “Her new building doesn’t even have a doorman.”
“Dad, it’s fine. They are just moving to the West Village. Perry Street is not that far down—”
“Don’t you dare say ‘downtown,’?” he replied, cutting her off.
“She’ll be over all the time.”
“There’s no walls in their kitchen, Emma. No walls! It’s just this open… space.”
Emma smiled. “Why don’t you grab a drink? It is a party, remember?”
Her father nodded and took his seat, while Emma made her way over to the other side of the table, to the exact spot she had dictated on the seating arrangement. But instead of Montgomery Knox sitting next to her, it was Knightley.
“You look disappointed,” he said. His jacket was open and one arm was stretched over the back of her waiting chair. It made his white shirt stretch over his chest like the buttons were working to keep him concealed.
She sat down with a sigh. “I just thought that after thirty years you would have learned to read well enough to find your name on a seating chart.”
He chuckled.
“Oh my God, I think I’m already drunk,” Margo announced as she pulled out her chair across from them. “Is it too early to be drunk?”
Knightley said no just as Emma said yes.
Margo didn’t appear to hear either of them, her eyes widening greedily as she sat down and reached for the full glass of champagne waiting for her on the table.
“Wait until you try the scallops with the fresh succotash,” Ben said, joining the table. “You’ll love it! Just really clean and simple. I’m thinking of putting it on the menu at the restaurant. I know I can’t get local corn all year round, but I can change things up.”
“So plans are still moving forward with the new restaurant?” Emma asked, glancing at Montgomery’s place card on the table.
“Of course! I found this incredible location in the Lower East Side. Rustic setting with high ceilings and exposed beams; it’s great. I’m thinking of doing a modern take on early American dining, tavern-style, with fresh roasts and chowders from local vendors—you know, farm to table. Otherwise, Knox’s idea is to do a high-end sushi-taco place.”
Emma’s eyebrows bobbed up. “Those are… very different.”
He waved her off. “We’ll figure it out. It’s about the draw, you know? I’m the food guy, but Knox knows the business side. He’s got leads on all the investors and knows how to get everyone on board. And I’ve got the culinary team all figured out. Now it’s just timing and real estate.”
Ben continued to outline his plan as the last of the guests found their seats and the din of conversation filled the garden while everyone began their meals. Emma ignored her plate, covertly removing the index cards with her speech from her small bag so she could review them from her lap.
