"Right," Louise said. "I have a confession."
They were sitting in a tearoom in Marylebone, stuffed into squashy brown chairs in front of an empty fireplace. An array of half-eaten scones, clotted cream, and little Viennese whirls littered the table. Ophelia doled out more rosehip tea from a floral-patterned teapot.
"Ah," Ella said. "So it was you that broke the salad bowl yesterday."
She was sitting cross-legged in a chair, dressed in black leggings and a jumper; her blonde hair was pulled up in a baseball cap. Not, Louise thought, that they were very likely to get papped at a members-only tearoom, but still — you couldn't be too careful.
"Wasn't me," Louise said. "Although I can see why you'd think that."
Ella nibbled a biscuit. "You do get clumsy when you're drunk."
"I really do."
Ella shrugged. "Must have been Max."
Louise took a sip of tea. Ophelia — who'd spent most of Christmas dinner admiring the ceramic bowl with painted oranges-and-lemons on it — was suddenly very interested in buttering a raisin scone.
"Must've been," Louise agreed.
Ella typed something on her phone. Ophelia leaned over.
"I'll buy you a new one," she whispered. "Promise."
Louise winked.
"Anyway," Ella said, looking up from her phone, "you were saying, Lou?"
She set down her phone. Ophelia leaned forward. Her auburn hair was twisted into a complicated updo, and she was wearing a floral tea dress that made her look like a photograph from the 1950s. Except, Louise thought, women in the 1950s didn't wear Apple watches — and they certainly wouldn't discuss their sexual escapades.
At least, not publicly.
"Oh, God." Louise covered her face. "I can't believe I'm about to admit this."
"Go on," Ella said.
"So you know how Langford and I share a bed?" The words came out muffled.
Ophelia's voice was wry. "Well, we do now."
"Right." Louise felt slightly sheepish. "Sorry for not giving you a heads up about that. But anyway, this morning, Ben and I were in bed, and he sort of..." She lowered her hands, glancing at a man typing on a laptop nearby. "Got excited."
Ella's eyes widened. "You mean...?"
"Yeah."
Her hand went to her mouth. "Oh, my god."
Heat pooled in her cheeks. "Exactly."
"What did he say?"
"He didn't," Louise said, picking up her tea. "I got up and made the kids breakfast. Then he left for work."
Ophelia took a bite of scone. "So you haven't spoken about it?"
"No." Louise took a sip of tea. "But I mean, what is there to say? Both of us have been celibate for weeks; of course he's feeling frustrated. It's only natural." The girls exchanged a look, and she frowned. "What?"
Ella fiddled with a bracelet. "I mean, is it possible that..." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Lou, have you thought about the fact that Max might be right? That Ben has feelings for you?"
Louise set down her tea. "Don't be stupid."
"I'm serious."
"Langford and I can't stand each other," Louise said. Both girls looked at her doubtfully, and she sighed. "Okay, well, yes, we're getting along better these days, but that doesn't mean he fancies me."
"Did he deny it?" Ella asked.
Louise frowned. Had Ben denied it last night? Not strictly speaking, no... he'd just rolled over and gone to sleep. Still, the idea of Ben Langford fancying her was ridiculous; he'd marry a six-foot blonde model named Francesca Taylor-Smythe that loved cross-stitching, baking, and played tennis on the weekends.
The thought made her feel a little sick.
Louise picked up her tea. "He doesn't have to deny it. I know him."
"And you?" Ophelia asked.
Ophelia was watching with her closely. It was the same face her friend got when she was editing, Louise thought, her face bent low to the manuscript, red ink smudged all over her hands. She sipped her tea.
"What about me?" Louise asked.
Ophelia wiped her hands on a napkin. "Do you fancy him?"
The image of Ben — shirtless, sprawled out in bed — rose in her mind, and Louise lowered her eyes to her tea. "Well, he's not exactly ugly, is he?"
"That's not an answer," Ella pointed out.
Louise pulled a face. "What do you want me to say? Yes. Fine. I fancy him a little. But remember what you said at the wedding, Ells?" She set down her tea. "About Ben being the only man that hasn't tried to shag me straight away?"
Ella's mouth quirked. "I don't think that's exactly how I phrased it."
"Details, details." Louise waved her off. "Anyway, you know I like a challenge. And he's off-limits. Maybe that's all it is."
Ella's smile grew. "Maybe."
"He's not in love with me," Louise said firmly. Ophelia turned her laugh into a cough, and her exasperation rose. "He's not!"
Ophelia shrugged. "Okay. We believe you."
Louise doubted this. Ella looked gleeful; Ophelia, uncharacteristically smug. Louise finished her tea, flagging down the waitress. It was a pity, she thought, that her friends were about to be exceptionally disappointed.
"I'll speak with him today," Louise said, pulling out her wallet. "Ben doesn't have feelings for me. You'll see."
Ophelia and Ella exchanged another loaded look.
Wisely, neither one of them spoke.
They found Max tied up in the living room, covered in pink marker and glitter.
Vienna was gleefully whacking him with a plastic sword. Hugh was sitting on a nearby sofa, eating a bowl of popcorn and watching "Jake and the Neverland Pirates." Louise leaned against the doorjamb, crossing her arms.
"Do I want to know?" she asked.
Her brother closed his eyes. "Please don't comment."
"This," Ella said, pulling out her phone, "is going on Instagram." She snapped a picture. "Your fans are going to have a field day."
Max sighed. "Where's Ophelia?"
"She went to the studio," Ella said, without looking up.
"Andrew's working?" Max frowned, wrinkling the line of pink marker on his forehead. "On Boxing Day?"
Ella pocketed the phone. "I guess inspiration doesn't take a holiday. Also, I suspect he drank too much last night and is lying on the floor eating take-out." She glanced at her watch. "Have you started packing?"
"Well," Max said, "I've spent the last hour tied to this pole. So, no."
Louise dumped her bag by the door. "Is Ben home yet?"
Max shook his head. "He texted at lunch to say he'd be late."
Her brother's voice was casual. Too casual, Louise thought; he was trying to be cool about the shared bedding arrangement when he so clearly wasn't. Louise suspected she had Ella to thank for that. She shot her friend a grateful look, but Ella was busy crouching down, working at the knots with her fingers.
A key clicked in the lock.
"Speak of the devil," Max said.
The door opened.
Ben was dressed in a navy peacoat and chinos, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene: Max, tied to a post; Ella, flushed and breathless, her fingers raw from the ropes.
Ben whistled. "Didn't know you two were into that sort of thing."
Max glowered. "Langford, I swear—"
"Easy," Ben said, his mouth quirking. "I'm just messing about." He hung up his coat, carefully placing his backpack on the side table. "Bentley, can I speak with you for a second?"
"Sure," Max and Louise said together.
Ben stuck his hands in his pockets. "Louise Bentley."
Louise stole a handful of popcorn from Hugh's bowl, and the younger boy shot her a wounded look. "Would you mind watching them for a bit longer, Max?"
"Well," Max said dryly. "It's not like I'm going anywhere, is it?"
She smiled. "Thanks."
Louise trailed Ben upstairs. He led her to the master bedroom, and she wasn't surprised to see that he closed the door. Still, her heart sped up as Ben leaned against it, folding his arms. They were alone. Completely alone.
"Hi," he said.
She swallowed. "Hi."
"About this morning..."
Ben rubbed at his jaw. Seconds ticked by. The urge to jump in filled her, but Louise fought against it; she'd done that the last time, and where had it gotten her? Ben hadn't been able to deny that he fancied her, and the girls had gotten the wrong idea.
No.
Louise bit her tongue. Actually bit her tongue. She was staying quiet, even if it went against every fibre of her being.
"Look," Ben said finally, "I wanted to apologize. Obviously, what happened this morning wasn't intentional, but I can imagine that you might have felt violated or — or disrespected, and that's valid. I don't blame you. And I..." He cleared his throat. "And I'm just really fucking embarrassed, Bentley. I'm sorry."
The tips of his ears were red. Something in her softened.
"Langford," she said. "It's fine."
"It isn't," he muttered.
"I honestly don't mind." Louise touched her neck. "It's not like you had much control over the situation. Anyway, neither of us have had much time for a release lately, so it's only natural that you... er..." She was working hard to keep her eyes on his face. "Anyway, I'm flattered."
Ben's ears grew redder. "Stop."
"Seriously." Her mouth kicked up. "You're like some superhuman machine. Do you know how proud I am for breaking your self-control?"
"Bentley." His voice was a warning.
"I can hold this over you forever."
"Please." Ben groaned. "You're killing me."
All her amusement vanished. Ben was leaning against the door, his eyes half-closed. A pulse jumped in his throat. Louise curled her toes into the carpet. She'd felt that groan go through her, dissolving into hot butter that pooled in her stomach.
Ben opened his eyes.
Her feelings must have shown on her face because Ben's expression changed. His shoulders tensed. He seemed to press into the door, as if he could physically put more space between them. Louise fiddled with an earring.
"For the record," she said, "you're not the only one that's had... thoughts."
The air was thick. Heavy. Ben's hands balled into fists.
"Thoughts?" he repeated.
Louise dropped her hand. "Urges."
Her tongue swept over her bottom lip, and Ben's eyes tracked the movement. "We made a pact. We said we wouldn't sleep together." His voice came out rough. Uneven.
"I know."
Louise could feel herself burning, every cell in her body attuned to his breathing. His movement. A piece of hair fell into his eyes, and she wondered what it would be like to bury her hands in his hair. To kiss his mouth.
Ben looked away. "Don't look at me like that."
Her voice was low. "Like what?"
"You know what." Ben caught her eyes again, and then groaned. "Seriously, Bentley, this is hard enough already. And if you keep looking at me like you want me to fuck you on a table, then I'm going to find it difficult to say no."
A rush of heat filled her. She'd never heard Ben say anything dirty before. Had no idea that he was capable of it. It might have been the best thing she'd ever heard.
"What if I want you to?" Louise asked.
Her voice came out husky, even to her own ears. She took a step closer, and Ben's jaw tightened.
"Louise..."
Scratch that. Her name was the best thing Louise had ever heard. She'd never wanted someone like this. Never yearned so much for someone that it frightened her, that she felt like she might shake apart if she couldn't have him.
Louise swallowed.
But this was Ben, and she had no idea how to get him. All her usual tricks — whispered promises, tight jeans, a light touch on the shoulder — felt trivial somehow. Like trying to trap a lion in a butterfly net.
"Ben," she whispered.
His eyes were trained on her face, as if he couldn't bear to look away. They were standing very close now, so close that Louise could feel his warm breath tickle the shell of her ear. Ben's hands gripped her waist. She could feel his heart rocketing in his chest, or maybe that was hers; it was impossible to tell.
Ben's hand came up to cradle her face. His thumb traced the seam of her lower lip, and she shivered. God, they were so close to crossing a line. She wanted to cross it. And they could if it weren't for...
The kids.
Louise closed her eyes. Hugh and Vienna. The kids, who needed them.
"We shouldn't," Louise whispered. "God, I want to, but we shouldn't, Ben."
She stepped back.
Ben blinked. He looked like a prince awakening from a sleeping curse, all cloudy eyes and flushed cheeks, and he blinked again. Swallowed.
"You're right." His voice was hoarse. "No, of course we shouldn't. It'll end badly."
She forced herself to smile. "We're still friends?"
Ben's mouth quirked, but there was something dark in it, as if he was sharing a private joke with himself. "Friends."
Louise shivered, rubbing at her arms. She needed Ben to take over. Normally, it drove her mad to have Ben trudging around the house, picking up couch cushions and scrubbing dishes, but one of them needed to be responsible right now. And she wasn't sure that she had the willpower to do it.
Ben cleared his throat. "We should go back downstairs." He opened the door. "Say goodbye to your brother and Ella before they leave."
"Right."
Louise waited a beat as Ben slipped into the corridor. One beat to fix her hair. One beat to mould her face into a smile. Then she followed him downstairs, to where Hugh and Max were building a puzzle while Vienna happily shoved a plastic doughnut into her uncle's mouth.
"Right," Louise said. "I'm starved. Who wants to order pizza?"