Always the brightest smile and the hardest eyes.
The smile has faded, but the eyes are still like granite as he says, “Well done, man, well done,” like Jules is a twelve-point buck I’ve just brought home, not my wife. “Although, hey, some advice. You may wanna rethink that when you two have kids. Confusing for them, having parents with different last names. If Dad were still alive, he would’ve told you himself. His father was actually a Franklin, but of course Great-Grandad insisted Nana Nelle and my dad stay McTavishes.”
He shakes his head with a rueful chuckle. “So, yeah, trust me, you wanna have the same last name as your child. Otherwise people might think you two weren’t married at all. Or divorced. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“I would rather die,” Jules replies with big eyes, and I choke back a laugh as I take her hand, our fingers interlacing.
Confused again, Ben looks at her, a half smile playing around his mouth like he can’t tell if he’s being made fun of or not.
Men like him aren’t used to being mocked, which is probably why men like him exist in the first place.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” I tell him, taking his focus off of Jules, and those hard eyes meet mine, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” I agree. “But it’s the kind of thing you have to say, isn’t it?”
Ben’s smirk melts into a grin, and that fist hits my upper arm again. “Missed you, Cam,” he tells me. “Mean it.”
“I doubt that.”
“No, I’m serious,” he assures me, and then crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. “There was never any bullshit with you.”
He looks back at Jules, and gives her another one of those killer smiles. “Pardon my French.”
“No fucking worries,” she replies, and he barks out a laugh, throwing his head back.
“All ri-i-ight, Miss Jules,” he drawls. “But try not to say that in front of Nana Nelle. One funeral this month is enough for me, thanks.”
“Where is Nelle?” I ask. I don’t actually want to see her, but I’d like to get this over with. The sooner we’ve gone through the motions of the whole homecoming thing, the sooner I can leave.
“Not feeling up to company today, she says,” Ben replies, rolling his eyes. “One of her headaches. She’s had a tough time, since Dad died. She’ll meet you both at breakfast in the morning. Libby is headed out with friends tonight, I’m pretty sure. As for me, I have work to catch up on.”
It shouldn’t surprise me that Ben has a job. He’s thirty-four, for fuck’s sake, he should work, but I still find myself blurting out, “What is it that you do? For a living, I mean.”
Ben raises his eyebrows at me. “Umm. I’m a lawyer?” he says, implying that I absolutely should have known that. “Estate stuff, wills and trusts. I mean.” He spread his arms wide. “I figured the family could use someone who actually knew his shit in that regard, right?”
He’s smiling, his teeth still so damn white, but his eyes have gone hard. I make myself smile back even as I feel my throat go a little tight. “Right.”
Ben keeps grinning. “Anyway, I trust the two of you can entertain yourselves for the evening? Cecilia left a casserole in the fridge that you’re welcome to and, Camden, I assumed you’d want your old room back, so it’s ready for you.”
“Fine,” I say. “Sounds good.”
It doesn’t, actually. I’d hoped to stay in some other room. Any other room. The idea of taking Jules back to my childhood bedroom, even if it had been a bedroom prepared for a septuagenarian, is unsettling for some reason. Like I’m sliding right back into place here.
“Awesome,” Ben says and jerks his head toward the stairs. “I’ll get back to it then. I’ve got a shitload of paperwork for you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait.”
He gives another one of those smiles that doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “Now that? That is clearly bullshit, Cam.”
Chuckling, he turns back to Jules. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Brewster. Welcome to Ashby House.”
His eyes linger on her for another one of those uncomfortable beats, and then he’s headed back to the stairs, taking them two at a time like he’s still fifteen and not in his thirties.
He stumbles just at the top, barely noticeable, and he quickly recovers, but for a moment, I let myself picture another outcome.