36 JANIE
JANIE
Clown.
That is what he meant. He’s the family clown.
He makes himself the brunt of every joke, diffuses every conversation, lightens every load.
I guess I should have expected it but it’s just…
there’s something else. Samantha, another skilled diffuser, tried to help.
She’s so great with people and conversation, she was like Benedict’s wingman. But there’s something deeper going on.
But it’s none of my business.
I’m not actually marrying into this weirdo, quasi-royal richer-than-God family.
No need to pry.
Then I watch as Ben hugs his mother goodbye, scanning her face quickly before going in for a second hug. It’s not that he’s a momma’s boy. I’ve dated those. He doesn’t go on and on about her, doesn’t call and text her all the time. Doesn’t seem all that worried about her opinion or approval.
“What is it?” I blurt out loud, unable to hold back anymore.
“Sorry?” He asks as we climb into the back of another giant, fancy car.
“Is there a partition thing in here? Surely.” I say, eyeing the driver.
Ben pushes a button to raise said privacy screen, then turns to me.
“This is getting exciting,” he wags his eyebrows.
“Down boy. I want to know what the hell is going on in your family,” I say.
“I told you, I’m…”
“The class clown, I get that. Jack is ours. Every family has one. But it’s more than that. Something with you and your mom? Is it related to your panic attacks?”
He smirks and tries to brush it off, looking pointedly at my thigh-high boots. “I can think of much better things to discuss with the partition up…”
“You really thought I wouldn’t pick up on it?”
He sighs, “I did, yeah. As I said, most people aren’t paying that close attention to me.”
“Well, I was. I am.”
He looks at me, finally, with something gooey in his eyes that make me feel a deep, warm joy, accompanied by the kind of gripping fear that makes me want to jump out of this moving vehicle. He looks away, though, and slumps.
“You know, Samantha always said you and Skye were people watchers and I thought she meant, you know, out bloody shopping, lurking in cafes studying strangers.” I don’t interrupt because he wants me to.
He wants to change the subject. “Fine. I do…look after my mum. My father was always completely absent, no shocker there. But Emerson was reclusive, caught up in his own head. Byron is oblivious. She…struggles.”
“What do you mean?”
“She had a sister, my aunt. Younger, they were close. She died when I was in primary school.”
I interrupt, “That’s what we call elementary school, right?”
He frowns, “I think, yes? I was about ten.” I nod and wait.
“Well, they were close and it was sudden. My aunt was her person. I’m not sure, looking back, that my mother had anyone else, since I’ve explained how people are in our circles.
After Aunt Elizabeth died, she went into a deep depression.
The kind where she couldn’t get out of bed. I had to beg her to eat.”
“You had to get her to eat?”
He barely nods, looking out the dark window but clearly seeing his memories play out instead of the city lights passing by.
He inhales then explains, “Like I said, I was the only one. I would read to her, try to get her to talk, to laugh. Some days I…hell, there were a couple days I couldn’t wake her up.”
His jaw locks.
I grab his hand, he lets me, but he doesn’t squeeze my fingers.
“Ben, I'm so sorry. That’s way too much for a child. You were a child! Is that what triggered the attacks?” I ask.
He shakes his head, “Those were later. She came out of the depression eventually. I think Anya, our cook—and really mum’s right hand, as far as the staff goes—saw me trying and eventually called the physician.
I think Mom started on meds but I never saw any pill bottles.
She was fine for years but then in year 9 of school, I was a teen then, Emerson had an accident. ”
“He did?” I’m surprised I never heard about it from Samantha.
“Mhm. Set Mum off again. He was in a bad way in hospital and she would get home from visiting him and just weep. And I needed to fix it, to help her.”
It clicks then. The moment outside of Gran’s room.
“It was my sobbing,” I say.
He exhales, sounding annoyed. “Apparently. I thought I was over it. I mean, hell, it’s been over a decade.” A muscle twitches in his neck.
“Wow. That is heavy.”
“Yes and it’s your turn now,” he says back to me, sounding angry. I frown and he adds, “What’s really going on with you and Skye?”
I shrug, since it’s nothing compared to having to be the entirety of a parent’s emotional support as an elementary school kid.
“We just broke up, I guess.”
His head jerks back, “What d’you mean, broke up?”
“I mean we aren’t best friends anymore.”
“You had a row?” I stare for a second until he clarifies, “A row, you know, a fight?”
“Oh, kind of? Not really? I mean, she told me to quit bailing people out. It made her mad that I kept helping Theo for a while after the break up. Sent money to Juniper Falls and drove home to help friends again and again. Helped my brother over and over. This last time, I didn’t explain to her what happened with Jack.
I… I was going into crushing, crushing debt bailing him out, and she was inviting me to, like, freaking caviar tastings and other froufrou crap with all her married couple friends.
I said no a few times and then she just stopped inviting me. ”
“Didn’t she move away?”
I nod, “She told me that she was moving a thousand miles away over a random text after weeks of no contact. That was kinda the nail in the coffin for me.”
“Hm,” he says.
“Ugh, I feel like a baby. Poor me not getting invited to stuff. That’s nothing compared to panic attacks.”
“Pain is pain, yeah? She was your best friend.” His voice is softer when he responds, “Thing about the attacks is…I’ve been around crying before, sisters, women. No one has ever affected me other than my mother.” He looks down at our hands, then away. “Only you.”
I swallow.
And fight that urge again, the one that has my hand itching to grip the door handle and flee.
Because we have veered way off course here.
This feels deeper than business partners.
This has gone beyond buddies, friends.
This is…dangerous.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking away.
I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling but I do know my apology isn’t about his crappy childhood or my recent tears. I know it’s about his feelings, my resolve. I know it’s about us…because we’re not an us and no matter what, we can never really be an us. I won’t do it again.
And as Ben pulls his fingers out of mine, I know he knows it too.
_____
“Alright, wifey, want to go another round with me or sit here looking stunning?” Ben asks me as he stands.
He’s smiling but the grin is forced, polite.
I hate it. He’s never polite with me like this.
Even that first moment in Vegas, we were at ease with each other.
I look up at him, striking in his tux even in a room full of powerful men in tuxes.
There’s a jazz band playing Christmas songs and the room is dripping in white and silver and gold.
It’s the most spectacular, tasteful, dreamy Christmas decor I’ve ever seen and he fits right in.
“I’ll stay,” I say, letting him go. He should go have fun instead of marinate in the awkwardness of us since the car ride last night. It’s not like he professed some deep love for me. Yet, everything is all wrong.
He looks truly unbelievable in his tux tonight. Literally. His hair is a little longer and he’s sun-kissed from Mexico. It’s hard for my brain to believe he’s a real human man and not a flat image in a magazine spread.
I feel pretty in my silvery gown. It’s modest, not too tight, high neckline since I’m a Clark now. But it does have a very high, very sexy slit in the skirt because, well, I’m still me. The fabric shimmers and catches the light of my wedding ring and matching earrings from him.
But there’ve been hardly any unabashed compliments, zero attempts at butt grabbing. We haven’t kissed yet tonight, even with the cameras around as an excuse. We’ve said so few words, I haven’t even had an opportunity to tease him or roll my eyes.
I sigh.
This sucks.
“You two okay?” Samantha almost yells as she approaches me where I sit next to her husband at the head table.
Emerson nods adoringly at her. I almost smile, “Yes, we’re fine, just taking a people break. Did Ben send you to check on me?”
“No, and why would he? You guys are sitting here in silence observing everyone. Why would you need to be saved from what’s basically your happy place?” I huff out a laugh at that. She frowns, “Although, you don’t look happy.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
She studies me for a beat then scans the room.
“Ohhhh,” she finally says. I try to follow her gaze, unsure what she thinks she’s just realized. “You don’t need to worry about her, she’s the ex. You’re the wife.”
“Her? Her who?” My eyes snap over to Ben so fast I think I just pulled a muscle in my skull.
Samantha looks at Emerson so he answers, “That’s Penny.”
I scan my memory of our conversation about all his past flings. Penny…Penny…Penny…the one who fell for him. They spent a holiday season together and she thought they were a lot more serious than they were. Some tension in my shoulders starts to relax.
Until I look from Ben to her.
She’s gorgeous. Big blue eyes, naturally white-blonde hair and pink cheeks like she was just out in the sun. Scandinavian royalty vibes. Hate hate hate that for me.
“A couple years ago, I think, I never met her. But again, I’m sure she’s just telling him congratulations on his marriage.
To you.” Samantha rambles as I stare daggers across the room.
Because Penny is not congratulating my husband.
She is flirting with him. Hard. And he seems to be loving every second of it.
“Sure,” Emerson adds slowly at Samantha’s urging. “She’s a bit, uh, demonstrative, but that’s just Penelope.”
Penelope.
Wait.
Penelope with the pierced nipples? Oh, hell to the absolutely not!
“Excuse me,” I say involuntarily as I stand so fast I bump the table and everything shakes. Emerson catches a glass on its way to tumbling and spilling ice water everywhere. I’ll thank him later, right now I…I…I don’t know.
I have never been so—what is this? Jealous? Angry? Something, something unhinged —in my whole life.
“Hello, husband,” I say in an obvious way I’ll probably be embarrassed about later. I grab his bicep when I reach them and look adoringly at Ben, then, as I am taller than her, I relish in literally looking down at little blondie. Her face falls.
Yeah. He’s MARRIED, BITCH! To ME! Back off!
“Hello, my love,” Ben says before kissing my temple. Penny startles at that, like she’s forgotten how charming he is with everyone. Like she thought all his darlings were only for her. He starts to introduce me but I cut him off.
“Penelope, right? I’m Janie.” I say, making sure she knows that I know all about her and am cool as a damn cucumber and in no way threatened because Ben chose me and not her. Even if it is temporary and for his father and for money, he could’ve chosen anyone. He chose me.
Mine! My brain keeps screaming that word at her.
“R-right, so nice to meet you,” She says, extending her hand.
I don’t take it because the petty train is so far out of the station at this point, I might as well enjoy the ride.
“I’m sorry but Evelyn needs us,” I say, dropping the Mom bomb. With my eyes, I try to say, Oh yeah, she and I are besties. His mom loves me. Cry about it.
I pull at Ben’s arm, then grab his hand and start moving.
“Janelle? Are you alright? Does Mum actually need us?” He says behind me, confused. Because I am acting like a lunatic. But I can’t stop, won’t stop at this point. I keep a death grip on his hand as I lead him out of the ballroom into a side hallway. I scan the hall…bathrooms…exit…there!
I pull him straight to the supply closet door and— yes! Thank you, Lord —it’s unlocked.
He’s still stammering as I yank him into the small space, “If you could just tell me what’s—”
I slam him into the door, grab his wonderfully thick neck and smash my mouth to his because I can’t not be kissing him right now.
He makes a sexy groan noise, albeit a confused one.
One of my hands starts to move south but he grabs it.
“Wait, wait,” he says. I open my eyes and he studies me. “You’re angry? ”
I look away and sigh and feel my cheeks turning crimson. I’m fighting a smile though. Because he is going to tease me endlessly about this and, hopefully, we’ll finally be back to normal.
“About Penny?”
“You mean Penelope with the nipples.”
“Wait. You’re jealous.” After a beat, he beams at me and I’ve never been happier to see him gloat. He could light up the entire ballroom at this moment. “That is very hot.”
“Care to do something about it?” I say, moving my hand to his belt.
He stops my hand again. I fight a whimper. “Oh, absolutely I do. I will. But not now and not in here.”
I look back at him, glaring, “You’re going to torture me all night long, aren’t you.”
“One thousand percent.”
“Fine,” I huff, pulling away and straightening my skirt. “Fine.” I say again, trying to convince him and myself that I can ignore the tremor in my fingers…and the grit in my voice…and the raging need throbbing between my thighs.
“Are you? Are you fine, wife?” He says, trailing a finger up my leg along the slit of my skirt.
I shrug, all bravado, “Never better, Bo—” before I can finish calling him boss he shifts us. Now I’m against the wall, one of his hands caged around me and the other holding my chin. It’s not a soft, loving hold, either. It’s…possession. I shudder. He notices and smirks.
“I am going to tease you all night long and when we get home you are going to scream my name over and over and over.” Before I can protest he kisses the crap out of me. His tongue tangles with mine. It’s messy and emotional and so freaking hot.
I whimper, though, and it’s over.
He pulls me to him, yanks the door open behind me, then steps out and leads me by the hand. When he pauses to pull the closet door shut, I sneak a look down at the tent in his pants. He catches me looking.
“Bloody hell, this night just got endlessly more fun.”