21
Ben rubs Alex’s thigh under the table, trying to calm him. Alex is trembling hard enough he can’t pick up his utensils and Ben wishes he’d never insisted on today; Alex had been right Ben is in no way prepared for Janice. He doesn’t like Robert, but he gets the sense that he is just your average bigot, too lazy and ignorant to open his mind. Probably doesn’t care one way or another who his son sleeps with. Ben gets the distinct feeling Robert is more interested in turkey than he is in either of his sons.
Janice is a different story. Hatred seeps out of every pore and her attack was deliberate, determined, and aimed at Alex. From the moment she saw him, even before turning her attention to Ben, he had seen she was looking for a fight. Ben is certain the only reason she’s still in the room is because there’s more drama to be had by staying than by leaving.
“Where did that watch come from?” she asks. Alex jerks his head up, panic in his eyes, fingers flying to the strap and Ben can see guilt in his eyes.
“I bought it for him,” Ben says and reaches for his wine glass. “I thought it was time to replace that mangy piece of leather.”
Let her chew on the knowledge that he knows; let her try and go for Alex again. He looks at her over his wine glass, until she lowers her eyes.
Claire has filled a plate for her, but the woman still refuses to sit. Robert, on the other hand, is already eating, still piling his plate as he shoves turkey in his mouth. Ben would be too, if he isn’t busy trying to coax Alex to eat something.
“The turkey smells really good, baby,” he says, skewering a piece of breast meat with his fork and lifting it to Alex’s mouth. He keeps his voice gentle and ignores the sound from the other side of the table. “We won’t need to eat when we get home.”
Oh, she caught that, did she? The horror on her face as she processes the information that they have a home together is comical. He gives her his widest smile, the one he uses on witnesses who are about to trip themselves up and set his clients free. To his relief, Alex takes the fork and begins nibbling on the slice of meat.
“Ben, did I hear your firm is involved in that case with the building company accused of being a front for sex trafficking?” Claire asks, handing him the dish of potato salad. Ben makes a mental note to send Claire some flowers the next day.
“Yes, we’re representing the families of the children rescued from their trucks, last month. I’m second chair.”
Robert grunts and looks up.
“You with Crawford and Langley?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Robert, have you finished? I wish to go home.”
“Didn’t know they employed your kind, though I suppose it’s not really surprising,” Robert says filling his wine glass up and returning his attention to Ben. He still hasn’t, Ben realizes, even acknowledged Alex. “Bit of a bleeding-heart group, aren’t they? Always trying to sue decent hard-working business men for nothing more than trying to earn a decent wage.”
“Dad,” Matt says, and Ben can hear the anger in his voice. He smiles to let him know it’s okay.
“If snatching young children from their homes for the sex trade is a way to earn a decent wage, then I guess I’m a bleeding-heart. And proud of it.”
From the corner of his eye, he sees Alex put his fork down and push his plate away. He stretches his legs out under the table and squeezes Alex’s knee.
“Going to have some more, baby?”
Every time he says the word baby, she flinches. Good; she should be grateful that’s all he’s doing.
“No, I’m done,” Alex says. It’s the first time he’s spoken since introducing Ben and his voice is low and broken. Ben wants to reach over the table and slap that smug, lipsticked scowl of revulsion off her face. Instead he offers his glass of wine to Alex to sip from.
“So can I have extra pie since it’s Thanksgiving?” he asks, poking his tongue between his teeth. A weak smile breaks through Alex’s distress as he focuses on Ben. He shakes his head.
“No, you can’t, you’re cutting back on sugar remember,” he says. Pleased, Ben leans in and bumps their foreheads together.
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” he says and kiss Alex’s cheek.
It’s ridiculous, he thinks, how much pleasure he gets from hearing her snort of disgust.
“Robert, we are leaving. Now.”
Ben stands and strides around the table, making it to the door before her. Takes her coat from the hook and holds it out, ready for her to put on. She snatches it and storms out, followed by her husband muttering about pie.
The ensuing silence is broken by the sound of Alex pushing his chair back.
“I’m going to throw up,” he announces in a calm voice, turns on his heel, and leaves the room.
Ben looks at Claire and Matt, then smiles.
“Well wasn’t that fun?” he says. “I’ll go check on him and then I think I’m going to need another scotch.”