Marcus stops right in front of Ben and levels him with a look.
“Your turn.”
Ben blinks. “What?”
Maeve grins down from her throne, waving. “Benjamin, I request a shoulder ride!”
Ben coughs, shifting slightly. “I—uh—”
Marcus doesn’t wait for an answer. He grips Maeve’s waist, lifting her off his shoulders like she weighs nothing, and deposits her straight into Ben’s arms.
Ben catches her on instinct, looking comically stunned as Maeve settles herself in like she’s just upgraded to a better ride.
Marcus rolls his shoulders out, sighing in relief. “I like you,Ashcroft, but if you try to give this one a corporate job in ten years, I will personally end you.”
Ben huffs a laugh, adjusting Maeve slightly before glancing at Marcus. “Noted.”
Marcus watches him for a beat, then extends his hand. Ben grips it, firm and steady. A silent truce. An understanding. A real welcome.
“I mean it, though. You did good here. The town’s better for it.”
Ben inclines his head. “Appreciate that.”
Marcus smirks, shaking his head. “Though if you ever get tired of spreadsheets, I might have some real work for you.”
Ben shrugs. “I’ll pass. I hate manual labour.”
Marcus chuckles, glancing at Maeve, who is now patting Ben’s head like a pet. “Good luck with that one.”
Ben sighs. “I’m already regretting this.”
Maeve straightens up, gripping his shoulders like she’s preparing for battle. “Away! Horsy!”
Before Ben can argue, Olivia appears, looking exasperated, shaking her head as she steps up beside Marcus. “I am so sorry.”
Ben raises a brow. “For what, exactly?”
Olivia gestures vaguely at Maeve, who is now dramatically pointing into the distance like she’s commanding an army. “She accidentally watched an episode of Judge Judy last week, and now she thinks she’s a high-powered authority figure.”
Marcus snorts. “Accidentally?”
Olivia rubs her temples. “I was watching it. She wandered in, got way too into it, and now she walks around saying things like, ‘I will be making my ruling shortly’ and ‘You are in contempt!’”
Ben grins, completely charmed despite himself. He looks upat Maeve. “So what’s the verdict, your honour?”
Maeve nods seriously, tapping her chin. “Verdict is… you are a very slow horse. Move it.”
Ben lets out a long-suffering sigh, adjusting his grip on her before jogging forward, making her shriek with laughter.
Marcus watches him go, shaking his head. “That poor bastard. He never stood a chance.”
Olivia crosses her arms, smirking. “Nope. He’s officially one of us now.”
The night flows seamlessly, the celebration carrying on as champagne flutes are passed around. My mum gives a toast, people cheer, and the sound of clinking glasses fills the air.
I grab a flute. Willow does the same, and Olivia downs hers immediately.
But Sophie?
