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“Yeah.” He doesn’t add anything else, and I don’t know if I should expand on it.
I clear my throat. “Are you looking forward to getting home?”
He pauses from where he’s rinsing off one of the plates as if he’s considering the question seriously.
“I’m looking forward to getting the new charity going,” he explains. “I’m not crazy about the isolation out here.”
Casting him a look through my peripheral vision, I ponder his comment. “I would have thought you would prefer it.”
Bennet returns my gaze. “Why do you say that?”
I stop wiping down the countertops to look at him. “Because that’s kind of your MO, isn’t it? You’ve tried to stay out of the public eye.”
His deep, grassy eyes narrow, and for a minute, I think I’ve upset him, but before I can apologize, he surprises me by grinning unexpectedly. “I try to stay out of the public eye, but it doesn’t really work out that way.”
My brow furrows. “You have like a gazillion charities,” I remind him. “People are going to want to know about them.”
“People want to know about the kid who inherited three billion dollars, not about the good I do in society,” he corrects me. “Which is why I’m here, doing this show, raising awareness. The interviews I do never focus on my outreach programs or organizations. They fixate on my parents and how they died. I was ten when they died, so it was twenty years ago. And after that much time has passed, I don’t think I’ve ever done an article or interview where I haven’t cut it short because the ‘journalist’ can’t follow basic instructions and stick to the program.”
My lips part, his impassioned speech the most I’ve ever heard him speak in a single breath. Bennet turns away as if he recognizes the same thing and releases a small laugh. “But that’s why I hire a PR guy now.”
I hesitate, unsure of what to say or do, his deep-seated frustration palpable.
“Is there something I can help with?” I ask gently.
His face softens as he stares at me. “You’ve got your hands full juggling the three of us as it is.”
My eyes narrow as I strain for hints of jealousy, but if there are any, I can’t hear them.
“I’m a good multitasker,” I reply lightly. “And there are nights when I can’t sleep.”
He eyes me suggestively. “You know where to find me if you need help in that respect.”
I blush again and hurry to shift my face away, certain that my face is the color of a cherry tomato.
“Have you given any consideration as to which one of us you’re going to ‘choose’ for the finale?”
I shudder inwardly. “No,” I lie. “I haven’t really thought about it at all.”
“You should,” Bennet tells me seriously. “Because that’s coming up, and it’s going to be a big deal.”
I frown lightly. “How do you mean?”
Bennet peers at me intently. “Haven’t you read the details of your contract?”
That damn contract again. I should have paid more attention.
“Yeah,” I lie, knowing I’d only really scanned it. My agent had handled all of the details for me, my only focus at the time being my “big break.” Now, I wish I had spent more time perusing it.
“I think you should probably read it again,” Bennet suggests. “You might find yourself surprised by some of the details.”
An inkling of dread forms in my gut, but Bennet skillfully changes the subject, and the topic of the contract slips my mind as we retreat to the living room to curl up on the couch together to play a game of Checkers.
Forrest and Gabe eventually return inside, too, and the four of us pull out a Monopoly board we find in the entertainment cabinet to play until the wee hours of the morning, Bennet beating all of us terribly.
“That’s it,” I announce, standing with a yawn. “I’m out.”
Three sets of eyes peer up at me adoringly, and my heart sits in my throat at the sight. I’m sure I’ll never forget this moment as long as I live.
