Like Lovers Do

by Tracey Livesay

  But Ben had made up his mind, knew the split was in his best interests if he ever wanted to have a family.

  And there’s nothing he wanted more.

  Not a family like the one he’d had growing up, with parents who were either engrossed in their demanding careers, leaving him to be raised by nannies and housekeepers or, when they deigned to come home, preoccupied with outdoing one another with tales of their medical genius. No, he wanted more for his children than the manic display he’d witnessed and survived. He couldn’t wait to show them the unconditional love he’d never experienced.

  Unexpectedly, an image of Nic crashing on the sofa last night surfaced in his mind. In repose, the lines, furrows, and aura of toughness faded away, leaving a loveliness one might mistake as fragile. She’d fallen asleep so quickly he’d known she must be exhausted. In her fifth and final year of residency, she had a lot to shoulder. But he had no doubt she could handle it all, even excel. She was one of the smartest, hardest-working women he knew. She was also one of the most beautiful. A fact that hadn’t escaped his notice when she’d dropped by to inquire about the basement apartment he had for rent.

  Since his row home was close to Johns Hopkins Hospital, he’d expected to get flooded with applications from med school students and young physicians. Their long hours, awareness of his last name, and steady employment made them ideal roommates, even if they weren’t people he’d want to socialize with.

  When he’d opened the door, a shocking pain had flared in his chest, as if an invisible force had punched into the cavity and gripped his heart, giving it a squeeze for good measure. She was stunning. Pale, creamy skin, and mounds of caramel-colored coils and curls that tumbled to just beneath her shoulders and gave her an energy and intensity that made her appear more imposing than she actually was. Then he’d noticed the look in her mesmerizing green eyes and his burgeoning interest shriveled on the vine. That same arrogance and certainty saturated his parents’ expressions and declared her a doctor before she’d ever introduced herself.

  That made her off-limits. No matter how gorgeous, smart, and funny he’d eventually found her, people with demanding careers—especially doctors—made the worst type of parent. He’d experienced it firsthand. And it wasn’t something he was willing to subject his future children to.

  But allowing her to rent his apartment had been a wise decision. She was a good roommate and a better friend. She was loyal to those she cared about and honest to a fault. She listened without judgment and accepted him for who he was as a person and not by his last name. Not to mention they always had fun spending time together at home. He stood by his choice to keep things platonic, but it hadn’t been easy. And he was going to miss her when she left for Durham.

  Ezra knocked on the door and stuck his head in. “You don’t need to worry about losing Q-Ball as a client! That was April Ingham’s rep. April heard you’d signed the co-creators of the CelebLink app and she wants to come in for a meeting.”

  Adrenaline coursed through him, lifting his lips into a shocked, but pleased, smile. Handling April Ingham’s finances would be a major coup for any firm. Her family had made their fortune in oil, but, like him, she’d trod her own path. She’d gotten involved in the fashion industry as an early influencer—a term he couldn’t believe was an actual job!—and now ruled a billion-dollar empire.

  Ezra frowned. “I wonder how she heard about CelebLink? You just finalized the deal yesterday.”

  “It’s a small world,” Ben murmured.

  It was true. Inhabitants of a certain tax bracket might not know each other personally, but they all ran in the same circles. Seven degrees of the insanely wealthy. The Rockefellers may not know the Johnsons but they knew the same people. If one wanted to contact the other, it could happen in a matter of minutes. It wouldn’t surprise Ben to learn that April knew the co-founders of the social media app.

  “Why aren’t you more excited? If you land her account, you will up your portfolio by several hundred million dollars! You’d better start hiring now,” Ezra said, drumming his hands against the wall. “You’re going to need a full-time assistant and more staff to handle that amount of funds. And, just like with the athletes, if it’s such a small world as you claim . . .”

  Ben would be introduced to a new pool of impressive clients with which to grow his business.

  Dread sank like an anchor in his stomach, inhibiting his earlier elation.

  “I’ll find an opening in your schedule and set up the meeting with Ingham’s team for the week after you return from Martha’s Vineyard.”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Do you want me to fit them in before you leave?”

  He’d managed an entire department of finance executives, as well as handled his own multimillion- and billion-dollar accounts at Van Mont Industries, and the work had consumed his existence. He’d left because he’d wanted more for his life, like getting married, starting a family and being present in his children’s lives. How could he hope to achieve that if he allowed his business to expand beyond its current comfortable confines?

  “Thank April’s team for their interest but alert them we’re not accepting any new clients.”

  Ezra’s incredulity was meme worthy. “She owns one of the hottest fashion companies in the world. Adding it to our portfolio is a no-brainer.”

  “I’m not interested in growing this business for growth’s sake.”

  “You’ve taken this company as far as you can on your own. You should hire more people and expand. You can train them, make sure they share your perspective and way of operating. There aren’t a lot of finance professionals who have your vision. Or who care about more than just making money at any cost. You could help so many people. Why does growth have to be a bad thing?”

  It didn’t. For most business owners, growth on that scale would be a dream scenario. But he wasn’t most business owners. He didn’t want to take his company to the next level. He wouldn’t be like his parents, prioritizing his job over having a family. No, he was fine with Reed Financial Services the way it was.

  Profitable. Manageable. Prudent.

  Chapter Five

  Ben was still mulling over Ezra’s words several hours later at home when his doorbell rang. Engaging his home’s smart app, he rolled his eyes at the devilish, grinning face of his best friend, Davis Yates. Striding from his home office, he crossed the living room and kitchen and descended the short staircase to open the front door. “Look what the cat dragged to B-more!”

  “Benji!” Davis held up his curved palm and Ben took it, pulling the other man in and slapping him on the back. “How’s it going?”

  Ben winced at the dreaded nickname, but let it slide. “I’m good. You?”

  “I can’t complain. Well, I could, but no one would give a fuck.”

  “Truer words . . .” Motioning for Davis to enter, Ben waited for the other man to pick up the duffel at his feet, before closing the door behind him. “Dude, you’re always welcome to my guest room when your latest kicks you out, but it’s a long way from New York.”

  “Ha. Ha. I had a meeting with a few lawmakers in DC. Thought I’d stop by to see one of my best friends on my way back home.”

  Ben wasn’t fooled by the calm tone or the considerate words. Especially because Davis wasn’t known for either trait. Davis was loyal, charming and always down for a good time, but one didn’t go to him looking for comfort.

  That was Ben’s forte.

  He turned and headed up the stairs knowing Davis would follow. “You want a drink?”

  “Hell yeah. I always need to take the edge off after dealing with fucking politicians.”

  Ben laughed and headed into the kitchen. “I guess water’s out. Beer, wine, bourbon, or tequila?”

  Davis leaned an elbow on the counter. “Yes.”

  It was barely five thirty. Knowing he had a couple hours of work ahead of him and Davis still needed to travel home, Ben opened the fridge and grabbed a local brew. He poppe
d the top off the bottle and handed it to Davis.

  “Should’ve known you’d play it safe. Join me?”

  Ben grabbed one for himself and leaned back against the island, crossing his feet at the ankle.

  Davis took a long pull. “I needed that.” He cleared his throat then loosened his tie while surveying the space. “I haven’t visited since you moved. This is much nicer than the place you had in Annapolis. Bigger, too.”

  “Thanks.” Ben studied Davis, noting the way he pulled on his ear, scratched his shadowed jaw, and fidgeted with the bottle’s label. “Why are you really here?”

  “I told you, it was on my way—”

  “Bullshit. I’m seeing you next week, so this little detour wasn’t necessary.”

  “So, you are planning on coming?”

  “Of course. Why would you doubt it?”

  He exhaled. “Because my mother spoke to your mother, who didn’t know you were going to be on the Vineyard.”

  Fuck! Ben shoved a hand through his hair. He kept communication and contact with his family to a minimum. “What am I, fifteen? My parents don’t need to know my comings and goings. There was never a question about me being there next week.”

  “I hope not. Palmer and Bronwen would be upset if you didn’t show. It’ll be a while before we’re all in the same room again.”

  Which was why Ben wasn’t going to miss this trip. He, Davis, and Palmer had known each other since they were children, their parents having all met while vacationing with their families during the season on Martha’s Vineyard. Palmer had met Bronwen in college and it wasn’t long before they were a package deal.

  In two weeks, Palmer and Bronwen were both traveling across the world for three years to head up bridge and water projects, respectively, through Engineers Without Borders.

  “I don’t understand this need you have to ignore your family. You already separated from the business and proved you can be a success on your own. What purpose does it serve to keep them ignorant of your life?”

  “Dealing with my parents is like engaging in a game of mental chess. It’s tiring and I refuse to play any longer.”

  “But they’re the only parents you have. My parents have their issues, but these past few years, I’ve noticed they’re not as invincible as I thought. Especially my dad.” Davis lifted a shoulder. “I know you. You’d be gutted if you didn’t settle the discord between you while you still had the chance.”

  He appreciated Davis’s perspective, but they’d had different experiences growing up. Despite their issues with each other, in the eyes of the Yateses, Davis could do no wrong. Ben’s parents believed wrong was all their son did.

  “So”—Davis trailed his fingers in the condensation streaming off his beer bottle—“are you still seeing that preschool teacher?”

  Jennifer?

  Hadn’t Nic asked about her, too?

  He’d met Jennifer at the gym. She was pretty and sweet, and he’d enjoyed being with her. In the beginning. Though she’d possessed many of the characteristics he was looking for in a wife and partner, he’d had to admit he’d begun finding her company . . . unstimulating. When he’d realized he preferred staying home to meeting her at the ballpark, or the aquarium, or the museum, he’d known it was time to end things.

  “No. We broke up a few weeks ago.”

  And she’d taken it with the same graciousness she’d exhibited the entire time they’d dated. What was wrong with him? Jennifer was the type of woman he wanted to be with.

  Then why weren’t you still together?

  “Is there anyone else you’re spending time with?” Davis pressed.

  His mind spun through a roulette wheel of images and quickly settled on Nic. He preferred spending time with her more than anyone else, but Davis’s question seemed to imply something beyond the scope of friendship. Which wouldn’t describe him and Nic. The more Ben thought about it, the more he realized their association was contained within these four walls. Granted, she didn’t have a lot of free time, but as far as anyone outside of this house was concerned, their friendship didn’t exist.

  He kneaded a spot on his chest to ease the sudden tightness. “No.”

  “You’re single, then?” Davis confirmed, his innocent expression incongruous with the sharp planes and angles of his face.

  Ben narrowed his eyes. What the—

  He straightened and deliberately placed his beer on the counter behind him. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  He wasn’t buying it. “If you don’t spill, I will post the picture of you on the beach wearing that lime green Borat mankini.”

  Davis scoffed. “You don’t have that picture.”

  He was right, but . . . “How do you know? Are you willing to risk it?”

  Davis tilted his head. “You wouldn’t.”

  Ben didn’t flinch. “Try me.”

  Davis’s icy blue eyes—the feature women seventeen to seventy had deemed “dreamy”—widened.

  In their group of friends, Ben was the keeper of the peace, the ringmaster of resolutions. He wasn’t one for seeking out conflict or making waves. He was even-keeled, easygoing.

  Until he wasn’t.

  They stared at each other for several long drawn-out moments. Ben almost expected to hear an ominous twanging instrumental score followed by the sight of tumbleweed drifting across the room.

  Davis broke first.

  “Damn you! Sometimes I think you’re a fucking robot!” He sighed. “I don’t know the specifics, but Bronwen invited Tinsley.”

  Ben closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

  Fuck.

  Tinsley was the girl everyone thought he should marry, and, for a time, he’d agreed. She was from a prominent New England family and like him, she had certain ideas about what her future would look like. Unfortunately, her picture of her future hadn’t been with someone who’d left their family’s guaranteed fortune and struck out, unpredictably, on their own.

  “Jesus Christ! You’re a Van Mont! Why would you give that up to start over?”

  She’d broken off their engagement a month after he’d opened his business, informing him she had no interest in “struggling.”

  “And Palmer didn’t say anything?” His friend had to know how Ben would feel about this development.

  Davis waved off his words. “What was Palmer going to say?”

  Not much.

  Palmer adored Bronwen. Had from the moment he’d seen her long dark ponytail streaming out behind her on the lacrosse field. If she wanted Tinsley to come, Palmer would make it happen.

  And why shouldn’t he? Ben and Davis weren’t the couple’s only friends. It wasn’t Ben’s place to curate Palmer’s guest list. But dammit! A week in a house on Martha’s Vineyard with his ex was not Ben’s idea of fun.

  “Are you still in love with her?” Davis asked.

  “No.”

  Had he ever been in love with her? He’d thought so. She was beautiful, cultured and well-traveled. She’d wanted to get married and have children. And his parents had approved of her.

  Wholeheartedly.

  “Are you sure? Because she seems to think you are.”

  Ben jerked back. “What did she say?”

  “She told Bronwen you asked her out when the two of you ran into each other in Manhattan.”

  Ben wanted to grind his teeth. This is what he was afraid of. Tinsley wasn’t interested in just celebrating her friends. Not when she could stir up mischief, too. His ex loved drama, would create it for herself even if none was present.

  “It wasn’t in Manhattan. I saw her when I went skiing in Vail with Rick and Hunter.”

  “I remember that trip! I was going to crash it but I ended up having to go to London.”

  “It was the first time I’d seen her since we’d broken up the year before. I didn’t want things to be awkward, so I invited her to have dinner with a group of us, hoping we’d be able
to get along. She agreed but bailed at the last minute.”

  Typical Tinsley move.

  Drama.

  When they’d been together, that particular stunt had usually been followed by Ben searching her out and convincing her to spend time with him. Sometimes the convincing took an hour or more and when she eventually conceded—as she always did—she’d make it seem as if she’d generously granted him a favor. Looking back on it, he realized that dealing with Tinsley had been just as tiring as dealing with his parents. Maybe that’s why he’d stayed with her so long.

  The dysfunction had felt familiar.

  “She seems to have regretted that action,” Davis said.

  Ha! Because she hadn’t gotten the response she’d wanted. He hadn’t chased after her.

  “All she could talk about during her lunch with Bronwen was your business and how well it was doing.”

  “I was raised to expect a certain standard of living, Ben. Now you want me to live beneath that? When I don’t have to?”

  He flicked a glance skyward. “Not interested.”

  “Then good luck. Tinsley was always ruthless when it came to getting her way.”

  He gestured palm up toward Davis. “I’ll hang out with you. You can be my reverse wingman.”

  “Yeah, about that . . .” Davis grimaced and pawed a hand through the hair at his nape.

  “You’re bringing someone?”

  It had never occurred to him to ask. Bringing a date for the week seemed to imply more commitment than Davis had ever seemed interested in exhibiting before. Not a surprise considering his parents’ acrimonious divorce when Davis was a teenager and his father’s subsequent multiple marriages.

  “Yeah. Sabine.”

  Davis and Sabine had been hooking up casually for the past few years. According to Davis, it was an arrangement that worked well for them.

  “Wait. Everyone will be boo’d up?”

  Except him.

  And Tinsley.

  Maybe he could fly out and surprise Palmer and Bronwen in Fiji . . .

  Davis pointed at him. “I can see your brain working. Don’t you dare back out now. Why don’t you bring someone?”