I nod, turning my head to face forward so I can rest it on the perfectly sculpted back of the chair. “Barring any game-day emergencies, I think we’re in really good shape. Knock on wood.” I rap my knuckles gently on the arm of the chair.
“I never took you for the superstitious type.”
“I’m not really, at least I don’t think so. Force of habit, I guess.” One I don’t even know how I picked up because certainly no one in my family believes in shit like luck. We believe in hard work and solid plans and generational wealth. “I think the real question is, areyouready for tomorrow?”
“I was born ready, sweetheart.” The teasing lilt of his voice doesn’t hide the hint of nerves.
“Is the new girlfriend prepared to break out the big bucks? She’s going to have to if she wants to match Noah’s bid for me.” I haven’t actually talked to Noah about the date auction or bidding on me since that would violate our no-business-talk policy, but I would assume he plans to purchase my time.
“You think Noah is going to put up the big bucks when the whole goal of the fundraiser is to defeat his client? Don’t you think that’s a conflict of interest?”
Well, shit. I hadn’t really thought of it that way. Not that I can let Ben know that. But Noah agreed to be my date to the whole shindig; surely he knows bidding on me comes with the territory.
“I’m not worried,” I say, though I clearly am now worried. “How are things going with your new gal pal?” It’s a testament to how much I don’t want to talk about Noah that I change the subject to Ben’s new girlfriend. It’s a testament to how much time I’ve spent in Heart Springs that I use the phrase “gal pal.”
“Lindsay.”
“How are things going with Lindsay?” I hate to be that girl, but her name tastes sour in my mouth. Though I’m sure she’s a lovely person.
“They’re going well.”
“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.” I sneak another peek at him. He’s buried his gaze in his wine and refuses to meet my eyes.
“Sometimes it takes time to feel comfortable with a new partner.”
“She must like you, otherwise she would’ve given you the boot by now. Think about how quickly I got rid of my first two dates.” The realization turns my stomach. There must be something there between them.
“I suppose.” He finally deigns to glance my way. Something uncertain is buried deep in the dark pools of his eyes.
I reach over, chancing a quick pat on his forearm before I think about all the reasons I should really keep my hands to myself. We’re both wearing sweaters, and yet the brush of my hand against the soft fabric is enough to send a zingthrough me. Though maybe it’s just the wine. “You know you can talk to me, Ben. Things have been weird between us, and I get it, but I’m still your friend, right? We’re still friends.”
He covers my hand with his and if my hand on his sweater created a zing, his hand on my hand sets off a lightning storm in my veins. “Of course we’re still friends, sweetheart. You know we’re in this together, for better or worse.”
I shift my hand the slightest bit, allowing our fingers to interlock. “All I want is for you to get what you want, for you to be happy.”
His fingers tighten around mine. “I want that for you too. Do you think Noah can make you happy?”
I open my mouth to tell him yes, whether I believe that fully or not. But the half-truth refuses to come out. “I hope so.”
“What are you going to do when you get home?” he asks me softly.
I wait for him to move to untangle our fingers, but he doesn’t, so I don’t either. Instead, I enjoy the warm comfort of my hand in his. “I don’t know really. I can’t imagine anyone in my family is going to be too pleased with me.”
His brow furrows. “They’re going to be mad at you for something that’s out of your control?”
“They’re going to be mad at me for missing out on a huge deal and disappearing without a word.” The truth is a biting one, one that makes my heart constrict.
“You don’t deserve that, Cam.” My name so rarely drops from his lips, it does something to me to hear it.
“Don’t I, though? We both know I’m not a good person,Ben. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, and you wouldn’t be stuck here with me.”
He shifts in his chair, angling his body toward me. “Your priorities maybe weren’t the best. But you still have plenty of time to be the person you want to be. The person I know you can be. Look at what you’ve done here, what you’re doing for Emma. You’ve worked so hard, put in so many extra hours, all for the benefit of someone else. I’m so proud of you.”
Wetness pools in my eyes, and we’re sitting too close together for there to be any chance he might not notice.
“I’m sorry.” He reaches out a hand, wiping the trail of tears with his thumb. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.” I whisper the admission.
