I almost laugh at the lie of it.
“It’s no trouble at all,” I say instead, swallowing down the bitterness. “Whitney was… we just miss her so much.”
Chrissy nods, glances once at Phillip for reassurance, then wanders off toward the buffet table piled high with crustless sandwiches and bacon-wrapped bullshit.
Phillip follows her a moment later without so much as a thank-you. He doesn’t even look at me, even though I’m the one hosting this gathering, the one doing what he apparently couldn’t be bothered to do for his own wife.
The second they’re out of earshot, I lean into Bennett and murmur, “I hate him.”
“McCullough—”
“Don’tMcCulloughme. This is weird and you know it.”
“He’s going through a lot.”
I turn to look at him. “I don’t care. This looks bad. Really bad. Bringing your mistress to your wife’s memorial? Can you even believe that?”
“He’s probably not thinking straight,” Bennett says, and the sympathy in his voice makes me want to scream.
“I don’t think he’s ever thought straight. God knows what Whitney was living with behind closed doors.”
Bennett studies my face, his expression sharpening. “I don’t like that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’re about to do something.”
I hold his gaze. “I’m starting to think Whitney had more secrets than she let on.”
He lets out a quiet breath. “Everyone does.”
“Not like this. Not Whitney and me. She knew everything about me, and I thought I knew everything about her.”
Bennett makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between doubt and resignation, then pulls me fully into his arms. He cups my face in both hands and makes me look at him.
“You are like a dog with a bone,” he says, not unkindly. “Please don’t do anything we’ll both regret.”
I give him my most innocent smile. “I’ll try.”
He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “You keep me on my toes.”
“That’s the goal. Otherwise you might trade me in for a twenty-year-old executive assistant.”
That gets a real laugh out of him.
“I don’t know much,” he says, “but I do know there’s no way in hell that woman is just his assistant.”
“Thank you.” I feel something in me loosen for the first time all afternoon. “I knew you were on my team.”
“I’m always on your team, babe. You never have to wonder about that.” He glances across the yard, toward Chrissy. “Maybe do the neighborly thing and invite her to that charity brunch you’ve been planning.”
“You think?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
I nod slowly, emotion rising so suddenly it catches me off guard. Bennett is good. Steady. Safe. And standing beside him now, looking across the yard at Phillip and the woman who has taken up space in Whitney’s absence, I’m struck by how easily my best friend may have mistaken a monster for security.
It wouldn’t be the first time a charming man got close enough to do damage.
