Chapter 27
Afterward, we shower together while my clothes tumble-dry in Ben’s laundry room.
Then I towel-dry my hair as best I can and get dressed.
Ben changes into jeans and a sweater—the charcoal gray one he wore the night we made dinner at the suites in Iceland—and we’re heading out of his bedroom when something catches my eye.
“Wait,” I say, making my way over to his desk.
I pick up a black square picture frame and stare down at teenage Ben and teenage me.
I don’t remember when the photo was taken exactly, only that it wasn’t long before we got together that summer.
It was at some sort of party or get-together, location unknown, and now I recall someone making a snide comment about us spending the whole night talking in a corner.
Someone take a picture of Ben and Mona so we’ll know they were actually here.
And someone had.
In the picture, Ben wears a snarky smirk, one arm slung around my shoulder, the other extended toward the camera, middle finger raised. As for me, I’m not even looking at the camera. I’m beaming up at Ben like he hung the fucking moon.
Way to not be obvious, young Mona.
“How’d you get this?” I ask.
“Whoever took it texted it to me back then. Logan Fletcher maybe? I don’t remember.” His arms encircle my waist from behind. “It’s only my favorite photograph of all time.”
I place the frame down on his desk, gently, and turn in his arms.
He grins down at me. “What’s that look about?”
I don’t know how I’m looking at him, but I imagine it’s similar to the look teenage Mona is giving him in that photo, the look of someone who is one hundred percent, cannot possibly be in any deeper, head-over-heels in love—even if she didn’t know it yet.
I shrug. “I’m just really happy, that’s all. ”
Ben smiles, recognizing his own words from our night in Akureyri. “I’m really happy, too, Ems.” He presses a quick kiss to the tip of my nose. “But if you really want to do this, we should go.”
I’ve convinced Ben to come back to the twins’ party with me because I think it’s well past time he made his reappearance in all our lives, not just mine.
Although we could walk, it’s still raining out, so we make the quick drive in his old red pickup that was parked in the garage and somehow still runs. When we pull in the driveway, Ben cuts the engine but doesn’t get out immediately, instead fidgeting with the keys on his old Mets key chain.
“What’s wrong?” I say. “You can’t possibly be nervous.”
He looks over at me, the moonlight casting uneven shadows over his face. “Wouldn’t you be? I haven’t seen your brothers in fourteen years, and I ghosted them, too. I’ll be lucky if they don’t hate me, and that’s before they find out I’m sleeping with their sister.”
“To be honest, it’s probably my father you should be most concerned about.”
His eyes flash wide, and he slumps forward and lays his forehead against the steering wheel with an emphatic groan.
“I’m joking, I swear.” I run my hand soothingly up and down his back. “My family loves you. They’ve always loved you. You have nothing to worry about.”
Ben lifts his head, expression laced with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I’ve always thought they loved you way more than they loved me.”
He kisses my forehead. “Impossible.” Pulling back, he sighs heavily. “All right. Let’s do this.”
We make our way inside, and it’s bustling with noise from every direction.
With dinner wrapped up, everyone has scurried off to different parts of the house.
I take Ben’s hand and entwine our fingers, pulling him along with me into the kitchen.
My father, Marcus, and Carrie stand around the island, still picking at the chip bowl.
All three look up as we approach, and Carrie’s mouth tugs into a grin while both my father’s and brother’s fall open.
“You guys remember Ben,” I say, breaking the silence that has fallen over the room, squeezing Ben’s fingers between mine. There’s a rigidity in his forearm, a stiffness in his shoulders and spine, and I don’t think I’ve seen Ben this nervous before. Aside from his fear of transportation.
“Ben Carter,” my father says, pushing his eyeglasses farther up the bridge of his nose as if he needs a better look to believe his eyes. “I’ll be damned. How the hell are you, son?”
With that, he abandons the chip bowl and makes his way over to us, extending his hand in front of him. Ben shakes my father’s hand with his free one, and I hide my smile against the sleeve of Ben’s sweater, knowing this is as close to a physical display of affection as it gets with my father.
“I’m good,” Ben answers as my father continues to vigorously shake his hand. “Really great now, actually.”
“I’ve kept every single issue of National Geographic that’s featured your work.” My dad finally releases him. “I have a whole collection.”
“Really? That’s very kind of you,” Ben says, and I feel the tension ease from his body. He clearly has my father’s approval, not that he needed it.
“Upstairs in my office. Right beside Mona’s Around the Globe articles.”
“Wait. What?” I ask, dumbfounded. “You keep my articles?”
“Of course I do.” His thick brows form a single line over his frames. “Why would you think I wouldn’t?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Over the next few seconds, I reconsider my past as though I got the whole thing wrong.
Like Ben switching lenses on his camera to get the clearest picture, when I look at what’s right in front of me from a different perspective, I realize I mistook my differences for being an outlier, never grasping that my family loves me for me, regardless of my propensity for quiet and calm.
And if I needed any further proof of how much my family does in fact see me, the fact my studious, science-driven father, Dr. Matthew Miller, has my article on New England’s Tarot Card and Crystals Expo tucked away on a shelf somewhere in his office, well, that’s all I need to know.
“Okay, my turn,” Marcus interrupts, shoving me out of the way to throw his arms around Ben. “It’s good to see you, man.”
They do that man-hug thing where they roughly clap each other on the back, and then Ben tells him, “Look, I know I owe you an explanation on why I suddenly disappeared back then. I want to apologize—”
“You don’t owe me shit,” Marcus cuts him off. “I’m just glad you’re standing here now. But if you really want to tell me about it, how about you buy me a beer next week? I think it’s long overdue. In fact, we haven’t had a beer together since that kegger Mase and I threw—”
My father clears his throat.
Marcus abruptly switches gears. “I don’t know what I’m saying. That never happened. Anyway, lets grab dinner next week.”
“Sounds good, man,” Ben says, suppressing laughter.
My family’s reaction to Ben warms my heart, and I revel in the fuzzy feeling of it all while Marcus introduces Ben to Carrie—who says she feels as if she already knows him after hearing so many stories from our childhood—and points out two of their three children as they run through the kitchen in search of the third, who is off hiding.
“Where’s everyone else?” I ask, just as my mom enters the kitchen and stops in her tracks, her hands covering her heart.
“Ben,” she says softly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”
“Mary Ellen.” Ben crosses the room to my mother, sweeping her into an embrace that lifts her petite frame off the floor. I let them have their moment, knowing I’m the only one in this room other than the two of them who understands how deep their connection runs and how much my mother did for him.
“So, you and Ben are like…a thing?” Marcus questions, drawing the attention of my father and Carrie.
“We are one hundred percent a thing.” The answer flows naturally from my lips. “He’s going to be around. Long-term.”
Marcus smirks. “I don’t really know how I feel about my best friend dating my little sister.”
“Good thing neither one of us really gives a shit how you feel,” I reply, copying his smirk.
Marcus looks from me to our father, then to Carrie, perplexed. “Who is this person and where is my quiet, docile sister?”
Carrie laughs and pats him on the chest. “I think she stayed behind in Iceland, and I, for one, am loving this new version.”
“Yeah.” His eyes sweep over me like he’s seeing me in a whole new light. “I think you’re right about that.” He lowers his voice and adds, “Hey sis, I know Mase and I can be real assholes sometimes—”
“Sometimes?” Carrie interjects with a snort.
“Okay, I get it.” Marcus directs a Thanks a lot look to his wife. “We’re probably not the easiest people to have to claim as siblings, but I didn’t realize until tonight how overlooked we made you feel. I’m sorry about that.”
I smile, partly because it’s good to hear this acknowledgment from my brother and partly because I recall my dramatic outburst that led to it. “Thank you for that,” I say. “Sorry if I scared your children.”
“Are you kidding?” he laughs, pulling me into a hug. “I’m sure they’ll be talking about Aunt Mona’s profanity-laced rant for weeks. Let’s just hope they don’t tell their teachers at school about it.”
I shove him away from me with a laugh of my own.
“Okay, okay.” My mother approaches the island, swiping tears from her eyes. “Someone go find everyone we’re missing and tell them it’s time for cake.”
“We’ll do it.” I curl Ben’s fingers between my own and pull him in the direction of the entranceway. When we’re back in the foyer, I smile up at him. “See? That wasn’t bad.”
“No, it was really great actually.” He bends forward and kisses my forehead. “But I still have one brother to go.”
Right as he says this, three small heads run past us in the direction of the living room. “Hey,” I yell at their shadows, “time for cake!”
They continue on, paying me no attention.