33
Sam
Sam could hardly believe that they had made it through the weekend. Granted, they had stopped pretending about halfway through, but there was still the issue of the other lie Sam had told his family—the one where Ben was actually well-known and well-off.
Double checking his bag, he looked around the room to see if he’d left anything behind. It wasn’t as though he’d never get back anything he’d forgotten, but it would be a hassle to mail it or keep it until Christmas.
The door opened and Ben walked in. “Your mom said to come tell you lunch is ready.”
Right. They still had one more event to get through before they would truly be in the clear. After lunch, everyone dispersed, which was for the best, since Sam had to work the next day and was looking forward to unpacking and unwinding in front of the television for a few hours. He’d already decided that takeout was in order for dinner. Much as he would miss Matías’s culinary skill, he had to admit that he had a serious craving for butter chicken and garlic naan from Nawab. Ben liked Indian food, he was almost sure of it. They could order dinner, find a nice movie, and cuddle up on the couch…
“You coming?”
He blinked, then realized Ben was waiting for him. “Yeah, of course. I was just doing a last check.”
“We don’t have to leave immediately, you know. They’re your family, and you aren’t going to see them again until Christmas.”
Sam wanted to tell Ben that if he wanted so badly to spend time with them, then he could try living with them and their expectations for years and see how he liked it. Instead, he resisted the urge, biting the inside of his cheek until he felt calm enough to speak rationally.
“I just want to get back home. I have work tomorrow, and so do you.”
“It’s not a long drive. We made it up here in less than four hours.”
“I’m ready to be home. Away from the madness and the chaos and my family around every corner.” He walked over to Ben and slipped his arms around his waist. “And to be perfectly honest, I’m ready to spend some time with you—alone. Where we don’t have to worry about how loud we’re being.”
A shy smile flickered across Ben’s lips. “When you put it that way, I’m much more eager to leave.”
Sam leaned forward and kissed him gently. “I should have led with that.”
“You really should have.”
Ben brushed his nose against Sam’s, then kissed him again, his arms resting on Sam’s shoulders. Sam’s stomach tensed at their proximity to one another. It would be so easy to pull Ben flush against his body. To coax him into hardness and take him while his family ate lunch two floors below. But then he remembered how anxious he was to get home. Reluctantly, he pulled away.
“Come on then,” he sighed. “Let’s get through this and then we’ll start home.”
He grabbed his suitcase with one hand and Ben’s hand with the other, leading him to the elevator.
“Still not over the fact that you guys actually have one of these,” Ben said, pressing the button for the first floor.
“Yeah, I have to admit, it’s pretty handy when you don’t want to lug a suitcase up and down the steps.”
There was still a bit of bitterness that his dad had completely ignored him in a desperate attempt to get Ben to like him. It was such a little thing, but it was such a Bradley move. His son could find his own way, but god forbid any guest of his ever think that he was anything less than hospitable. It didn’t matter, he told himself. After today, he wouldn’t have to see his dad for another three months. And then after that, another nine.
“You okay, Sam?” Ben asked, breaking his concentration.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course. Why?”
“Well, you’re kind of cutting off circulation in my fingers, and I really need those to take photographs.”
“Oh, right!” He immediately loosened his grip. “Sorry. I didn’t think I was that tense.”
“You need someone to work out all the kinks in your shoulders.”
Sam grinned. “I’d be happy for you to work out a few of my other kinks.”
Ben just rolled his eyes at that.
When the elevator doors opened onto the foyer, he stepped out. Dropping Ben’s hand, Sam walked over to the front door and set his suitcase beside Ben’s. How his family hadn’t called him out on his lie just from the state of Ben’s stuff was a mystery. Next to his suitcase, Ben’s looked like it had seen war. It was an old leather thing, the kind you had to carry instead of roll, and it was covered in patches and stickers. Still, Sam liked it. It had character, just like Ben.
He walked back over and took Ben’s hand again, then led them into the dining room. Most of the family turned to look as they walked in, and Sam could feel his face heat, as though he had done something wrong. That was ridiculous, though. They hadn’t even been doing anything. Sure, the thought had been there, but they were looking at him as though he’d committed a crime.
Ben didn’t seem to notice. He grinned at all of them. “I told you I’d coax him down. He was doing a double-check of the bedroom.”
“I just wanted to make sure I got everything,” Sam mumbled.
Matías beamed up at him. “Leave no trace.”
That brought a brief smile to his face.
“Anyway, I’m here now, so let’s eat,” he said hastily, and he and Ben took their spots in between Uncle George and Aunt Harper.
Lunch turned out to be a roast, with potatoes and carrots and little puffy cups of dough that Sam wasn’t entirely sure of. It looked delicious, though.
“What are these things?” he asked, pointing with his fork.
“Yorkshire puddings. They’re common in England. I learned how to make them when Ambra and I went for our honeymoon.”
Beside him, Ben sighed wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to go to England. There’s so much pretty scenery that I could photograph.”
He would do it justice, too. Sam was sure of that.
“Well what’s stopping you?” his dad asked. “You two should go for a couple of weeks. It would do Sam some good to get away from that little coffee shop of his.”
Ben shrugged. “Yeah, it’d be nice to have a vacation, but it’s not like I can afford it.”
Sam’s blood ran cold. He could see what was going to happen unfolding in front of him like a train wreck, but much like a train wreck, he was powerless to stop it.
“Nonsense,” Bradley said, waving his hand as though he were swatting at a fly. “There’s no need to be modest. Samford’s told us all about the galleries you’ve done. If the governor himself bought one of your photographs, then it must be quite something indeed.”
“What? The governor? I don’t—”
“You know,” Aunt Harper said, clutching her wine glass, “if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you weren’t that well-known at all. I mean, I don’t know you.”
“That’s because you don’t like art,” Uncle George said beside Sam, through clenched teeth.
“Just because you don’t see me liking art doesn’t mea—”
“Hang on!” Ben’s voice carried above the bickering couple, and they both fell silent. “What do you mean, ‘well-known?’”
Sam wanted to disappear. He wanted the seat to swallow him up, but it was an antique, spindly thing that wouldn’t help hide him.
“Internationally recognized, of course,” his mom said. “Samford said you’d placed in juried exhibitions all over the world—even Paris!”
He could feel Ben staring at him. He was fairly sure his cheeks couldn’t get any hotter, but the flush just spread down his neck and chest. Slamming his napkin down on the table, he stood and fled with a muttered ‘excuse me.’