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An excited murmur runs through the children within hearing distance, until one after another they swarm Beau and ask, “Can mine be put there too?” and “Me too! I want mine there!”

Beau laughs, throat bobbing with the movement, as he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’d have to talk to the ground crew, but I’ll see what I can do. No promises though, okay?”

Cheers cry out, and that answer must be good enough as they scamper away back to their own projects.

“I can’t believe you did that.” I can’t stop the chuckle that spills out. I mean, maybe I can. What a great headline he’s going to make tomorrow. They’ll write about how relatable he is, how he’s just like one of them, not afraid to get a little dirty. It’ll do wonders to make up for the drunken photos of him the other week.

But I’d never accuse him of that directly.

However, I glance around the patio, which is completely free of all the cameras that were there at the start of the event.

Beau tilts his head, appraising me. “What? Have fun?”

“No,” I sputter, confused on where they all went. He notices what I’m looking for and directs a heavy sigh in my direction.

“You thought I was doing it just for show, huh?”

I truly hope my cheeks aren’t betraying me. “No.”

He shrugs, a portrait of ease. “You think I just did it for the cameras. That’s fine. You may think what you want, Briar. They did get their photos earlier this morning, but I asked Juliette if they can be sent away so the kids can enjoy having their fun this afternoon without the added distraction.”

“I don’t⁠—”

“You do. I know you’re not pleased with my presence here.”

I fold my hands together and turn toward him, giving him my full attention. I thought I’d had a better poker face, but clearly not, or else he’s more perceptive than he leads on. “I will admit, I didn’t know how seriously you’d take this. It doesn’t seem like charity work seems to be your cup of tea.”

“Why’s that?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Because you rarely ever do any?”

“And how would you know that?”

My mouth opens, then shuts, not sure what to say to that.

“You assumed that just because that is not what the media chooses to focus on with me, that means I do not try to give back as much as I can?”

“Well, do you?”

He cocks his head, eyes narrowing. “Would it even make a difference to you what answer I give? You seem to have made up your mind.”

Before I have the chance to answer, he walks away without another word. He kneels down by a little boy struggling to push his hand deep enough into the cement. They exchange a few words, and then Beau pushes down on the boy’s hand to make the imprint deeper.

His words stir up a feeling of remorse as I watch him. He’s right that I didn’t think he’d take this as seriously as his brother. But my assumptions were based on long-ago memories I have of the two of them as children, people’s opinions, and what I see in the media.

But he showed up today. He took the photos he was asked to take, stood by Juliette and me as she kicked off the event, and yes, perhaps he hasn’t been the best at mingling with the donors, but he’s done what I have not been doing.

Which is making sure the children have a good time.

Does his work simply not get reported in the same way his scandals do?

I look back toward the crowds of donors, all crowding around a table full of desserts that was just rolled out. Probably all trying to snag some before the children take notice.

My mother’s voice rings in my head. She reminds me to put my shoulders back, to go back over there and network. To be polite, and beautiful, and charming.

But then I look at the rows of colorful and messy stepping stones, and Beau kneeling down still helping the little boy. It’s there where I want to go right now.

I did my job well today. And there are no cameras around to catch me off-guard.