Chapter 7
April
My hands are sweating so bad I fumble the bottle of wine I’m holding. I keep replaying the same pep talk in my head: don’t say anything weird, don’t trip, don’t let his family think you’re a serial killer.
Easy, right?
Their front door is painted dark blue, and there’s laughter coming from inside. For a second, I almost chicken out and drive home. Then the door swings open.
Ben’s standing there, sleeves rolled, tattoos alive in the porch light. His eyes do this soft crinkly thing at the corners when he sees me, and his smile hits me straight in the chest.
“Hey,” I manage, my voice already failing me.
He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, his hand settling on my lower back. Warm. Steadying.
“I’m glad you made it.” There’s something in his voice I haven’t heard before, like he actually missed me in the hours we haven’t talked. “You look incredible, by the way.”
I try not to melt into a puddle on his porch or straight up faint on the welcome mat. “Thanks. Um…I brought wine. Hope that’s not lame.”
He chuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. “You could bring gas station nachos, and my family would be impressed.”
Not sure if I believe that, but the joke helps.
He leads me inside, his hand never leaving my back.
The living room looks like a toddler’s playground, toys everywhere.
The walls are full of old photos, Ben in a soccer uniform with his arm around a girl who must be Corinne; Arrow with a huge grin and dorky Mohawk before his now bald look; Ben again, younger, holding up some kind of trophy.
Someone’s already set the table…mismatched plates, forks all facing the wrong way, water glasses sweating onto the wood. Arrow stands behind one of the chairs, T-shirt stretched across his shoulders, feeding pasta spirals to a baby in a highchair.
The kid sees me and launches a plastic spoon across the room. It bounces off Ben’s hip and lands at my feet.
“Sorry about that,” Arrow says, not sorry at all. “He’s been training for arm day.”
Ben bends to pick up the spoon, tosses it back. “April, this is Arrow and his little mini-me.”
Arrow gives a half-wave. “Hey April. We’ve heard a lot about you.”
I try to keep my face neutral, but Ben’s still hovering so close it’s not even funny. “All lies, I hope.”
That gets a laugh from Corinne, who’s just walked in, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Up close, she’s got the same eyes as Ben, cool and intense, but her smile is way more dangerous.
“Ben’s not smart enough to lie about someone new, trust me,” Corinne says, eyeing me up and down…not in a mean girl way, just measuring. “I’m Corinne. If Arrow gets weird, just elbow him. Works for me.”
Arrow shrugs, dropping more pasta in front of the baby. “She’s abusive. It’s fine.”
Ben’s nephew slaps the tray, smearing sauce everywhere.
I can’t help but laugh, all my nerves forgotten for a second. “You have no idea how much I needed this,” I blurt out.
Corinne grins back, sets down at the table and gestures for everyone to sit. “Wait until you see how Ben cheats at Monopoly. Then you’ll rethink all your life choices.”
We all take our places at the table, Ben seating me right next to him, thigh pressed against my leg under the table.
For a second, it’s just the four of us and one extremely messy baby, plates passing, food heaped on before I can protest. I try to thank Corinne for cooking, but she just waves me off.
“I only cook for people I like. Or people Ben likes. Which, let’s be honest, is a much shorter list.”
Ben tries to glare at her, but Arrow jumps in before he can get a word out. “You should have seen the boss in high school. Purple hair, two lip rings, always outside the principal’s office.”
My jaw drops a little. “Seriously?”
Corinne laughs, almost evil. “He claims it was a ‘self-expression’ thing, but really, he just sucked at following rules.”
Ben groans, dropping his head. “Remind me why I thought this was a good idea.”
“To impress April,” Arrow says. “I give it a six out of ten so far. It could definitely use more awkward stories.”
The whole table’s in on it now. There’s a constant back and forth of jokes and digs, but not in a toxic way.
Ben steals bites of food off my plate, and I call him out for it.
Corinne tries to teach the baby to say “mama” but the only word he gets out is “dada.” Corinne catches me watching and raises an eyebrow.
“So. April. Ben says you’re in college. What are you studying?”
“Uh…art history and psychology. I mean, it’s boring, but…”
“Not boring,” Ben says, and there’s this weight in his voice. “Especially if it’s something you’re interested in. Don’t let her fool you, she’s incredibly smart.”
I shoot him a look, cheeks on fire. “He’s exaggerating.”
Corinne just nods. “He never does that. If you get a stamp of approval from Ben, it’s basically equivalent to a Nobel prize.”
Arrow snorts into his beer. “More like a couple scratch-off lottery tickets and a hug.”
I burst out laughing. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to fake a single thing for an entire dinner. There’s just an ease to it.
We swap stories. Arrow’s adventures trying to change a diaper one-handed, Corinne’s shop drama, Ben’s horror stories from his tattoo career. Somehow, though, when the talk circles back to relationships and honesty, everyone gets quiet.
Corinne looks at Ben. “Remember that one time mom and dad caught you sneaking out, and instead of owning up, you tried to blame it on Arrow?”
Ben shifts, clears his throat. His hand squeezes my knee under the table, not letting go. “And trust me, I learned my lesson that night. Dad’s one hour lecture about, “honesty is a big deal in this family, Son.”
Corinne laughs, but softer this time. “Only took you, what…ten years?”
“Eleven,” Arrow corrects. “But who’s counting?”
I’m watching Ben as all this happens. His jaw’s a little tense, his eyes on me, searching for something. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was scared I’d see something to make me want to run. Like he’s waiting for me to demand a truth he isn’t ready to give.
But I’m not about to ruin this. Not when I finally found somewhere I belong.
I join in, telling Corinne I’m probably the worst liar on earth. “I get so guilty, it’s easier to just admit stuff. Even if it makes me look dumb.”
Something changes in Ben’s face. It almost looks painful, but he just pulls me in closer, like he can shield me from the world with nothing but his hand on my thigh.
We finish dinner with Arrow making a dramatic toast. “To honesty, except when you’re losing at board games!” The baby gleefully pelts the table with soggy crackers, and Corinne threatens to call me for girls' nights so I can help save her from “these two losers.”
By the time plates are cleared, I’m dizzy with happiness, and maybe the half-glass of wine I let myself indulge. The whole vibe is so different from my own family dinners I almost want to cry.
Instead, I look over at Ben and smile, who’s still watching me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen, even with sauce on my chin and crumbs on my lap.
If this is what being wanted feels like, I never want it to end.