Chapter 28 Bennett
Bennett
I try to convince Clover to skip her afternoon catering shift, but she says she can’t afford to miss shifts, and I don’t think me offering to literally pay her to quit at least one of her jobs will help.
When we pull through the gates of the family estate a torrential downpour is flooding my windshield, coming down so hard that we can’t even hear each other. Clover’s head is on a swivel as she tries to catch a glimpse of the property, but there’s no visibility.
I park in the circle drive in front of the main house and turn to her. “You ready?”
Her eyes are hollow with fear, but the smile she gives me is soft and encouraging and I think it’s more for my sake than hers.
We run the short stretch to the house in the rain and let ourselves inside.
Our longtime chef, Mallory, is putting the finishing touches on her chicken tortilla soup, which is the perfect thing on a day like today.
It takes her a moment to look up, but when she does, she nearly drops the glass ramekin in her hand.
“Oh! My! Word!” Immediately she hustles around the island to pull Clover into her arms.
At first, Clover is stiff as she looks over to me, but after a second, her body relaxes into Mallory, who has known both of us since we were in elementary school.
“You are so grown up,” Mallory tells her, hands gripping Clover’s upper arms. “It’s so good to have you home.”
Home. Clover and that word. They’re synonymous, I realize.
After a brief, surface catchup, Mallory kicks us out of her kitchen and sends us to the nook where we usually eat because the actual dining room is cavernous in comparison. Beth always said that it was so funny that in a house this big, we were always searching out the smallest, coziest spaces.
Mom is already seated with her laptop.
I lead Clover around the table and hold her chair out for her. It’s something I would probably do anyway, but for some reason it is important to me that my mother see that I can take care of Clover.
Just as I sit down, Mallory sets the table with our soups and Mom puts her laptop away.
“Mal,” Mom says, “you should head out. The weather is only going to get worse.”
“All right,” she says as she walks back in with a fourth bowl and sets it down. “You just leave the dishes for me in the morning.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “I’m capable of doing dishes for four.”
“Four?” I ask.
Clover looks over to me and I shake my head to let her know that I have no idea who the fourth could be and that my mother has gone rogue.
The doorbell echoes through the house and I stand to answer it, but my mom is already up and moving.
“This feels weird, right?” Clover asks.
“Yeah, I—”
Clovers freezes, lips parted. “Mom.”
What the fuck?
Beth stands shoulder to shoulder with my mother. Just the sight of her stings still.
It’s fresh in my head. Her calling me a predator, fireworks going off. My mom moving from Clover’s side as the scene unfolded.
“Beth,” I practically whisper.
I never thought I would see them both in the same room again.
A few weeks after the ordeal at the country club, Beth wrote me a letter.
She left it for me in our mailbox. She said that after the dust settled, she got the whole story from Clover.
Beth apologized for saying what she did, but she was still disappointed in me.
She told me she loved me and she always would, even if we weren’t in each other’s lives in the same way anymore.
That night, I went home and showed the letter to my mom.
She read it silently and nodded to herself before giving it back to me.
And that was the last time either of us acknowledged Beth or Clover to each other.
My mother mourned their exit from our lives in a way that was distinctly her. After a while, we settled into a new normal. She fell deeper into work. Traveled the country visiting as many Graves Coffee locations as she could. She began to look into expanding the brand.
Clover stands and hugs her mom.
“Hi, baby,” Beth whispers, and then she comes around the table to place a warm hand on my shoulder before we’re all sitting down, letting our soup go cold.
When it’s clear no one knows where to start, Beth breaks the silence. “Sydney came to see me at work today and said that you two had something to share with us.”
My eyes are on Clover. Her lip is nearly bleeding from how hard she’s biting down. “We’re married,” I say without looking away from her.
Something clatters at the other side of the table, but I don’t look away because the only reaction that concerns me is Clover’s. I pull her hand into my lap and she turns to our mothers and begins to explain.
To their credit, there are only a few interruptions. When she mentions the ceremony, I can see them both trying to mask their feelings about missing the wedding of their only children.
It’s my mother who speaks first. “This isn’t about the money. I’m not upset about that.” The fine lines around her eyes and mouth are heavy with worry. “Honey, you do know that I offered to cover your tuition at Calvin Prep?”
Clover nods.
“Of course, your mother refused,” Mom mutters.
“Syd, don’t start this right now,” Beth tells her in a clear, even voice. “She wasn’t happy there. And who would expect her to continue after what she went through?”
“I’m just saying,” Mom says, “it’s a good school, and I would never let my pride stand in the—”
“My pride!” Beth digs in. “None of what I did was in the name of—”
“Stop!” Clover shouts.
That startles them both into silence.
“Need I remind you that Bennett and I are both adults? Sydney”—Clover’s voice softens—“I’m sorry this put you in the position to be paying double housing this semester. I—I honestly didn’t even think about Bennett keeping the town house and what that would mean, so—”
“Clo, it’s fine,” I tell her. “What was she going to do with that money? Put it in an account and watch it grow instead of putting it toward something important like helping you stay in school?”
“He’s right,” my mother says softly.
“I wish you would have come to me,” Beth tells her.
“Mom.” Clover’s voice falters. “I—I love you, but there was nothing you could have done.”
Beth straightens her shoulders, her lip trembling for just a moment. “There are payment plans, Clover. Perhaps we could have gotten you a housing waiver so you could commute and—”
“With what car, Mom?” Clover gives her a soft smile. “This was the best solution.”
“Bullshit,” Mom scoffs, her eyes narrowing in on me. “You should have just asked me for the money. You know I wouldn’t have said no.”
I nod, because it’s true. Sydney Graves can hold a grudge as well as she can hold a board meeting, but she would never say no to something like this for Clover.
The truth I can’t say out loud—not in front of all of them at once—is that deep down I wanted to marry Clover. I wanted to save the day. I wanted to be the solution.
“Speaking of money,” Beth says, “it goes without saying, that when all this is … resolved, Clover will not be taking a penny from either of you, but you, Bennett Andrew Graves, should know better than to elope without signing a prenup.”
“You said it. Not me,” Mom mumbles.
I would let Clover drain every single one of my accounts dry. In fact, the thought of her carelessly spending my money turns me on in a way that I can’t think too much about in front of our mothers. “All right, well, now you both know.” And it honestly pisses me off.
Our little bubble has burst. Reality is creeping in, getting too close, and I don’t like it.
Admitting all this to our mothers feels like we’re just a couple of reckless teenagers, but I love Clover.
I loved her even when I didn’t know how to.
I don’t care that this started as the means to an end or that this was always meant to be temporary, because I’m not letting her go. Not without a fight.
Beth and my mom both look ready to say more, but something in my expression discourages them.
“I think we should heat up this soup,” Beth eventually says. “We can all sleep on this new information. It’s been a lot for one night.”
I can see in the way her lips purse that my mother wants to protest, but she eventually nods and I help her gather up the bowls to put in the microwave.
We both stand there in the kitchen, waiting in silence for the timer to go off.
“You should’ve asked me,” she says quietly. “I cannot believe you let Clover think that her only option was to tie herself down like that.”
The soup is done but I’m standing there, frozen with guilt and anger and … Why would I expect anything less than her disappointment? There are so many things she could say to me in this moment that could bring us closer together, but instead, she’s pushing me just out of reach.
As we eat, there are a few words of praise for Mallory’s recipe, but those are the only sounds other than metal clinking against glass.
Beth excuses herself first and Clover walks her to the door while I clear the table rather than talk to my mother.
When Clover returns, she hovers beside me in the kitchen and tries to take over, but there isn’t much for her to do. She’s fidgeting and antsy. I know she’s eager to leave.
“Almost ready to go,” I whisper to her.
The doorbell rings and we share a brief look before both heading to the door as my mom files in behind us.
A very damp Beth steps inside. “There’s a tree down in front of the gate. I don’t think any of us are going anywhere tonight.”