All That Glitters

by Kate Sherwood

  That wasn’t the quick escape Liam had been planning, but he wasn’t quite churlish enough to snub a woman at her own baby shower, so he did as he was told.

  When he returned from the buffet table with a Solo cup full of punch, Dinah was perched on one side of the porch swing. She patted the seat next to her. “I’m not used to weighing this much. Come sit down so I don’t have to keep worrying that the whole thing is going to tip up like a see-saw.”

  “That can’t really happen,” Liam said. “The design of the swing—” She raised her eyebrows. Oh. She wanted him to sit down, not give her a lecture on physics and structural mechanics.

  He handed her the cup and took a seat, and for a moment they sat quietly, watching the men taking their shoes off and stuff huge balloons under their shirts.

  “I’m pretty sure this is going to end with at least one injury,” Dinah said. She didn’t sound too concerned about it.

  “I expect Calvin’s planned for it.”

  “Hell yeah, he has. He invited both of the town’s doctors and all the nurses, plus quite a few paramedics and firefighters. If they’re not on duty, they’re here. This party is ready for anything short of thermonuclear war.”

  “No cops, though?”

  “Calvin doesn’t particularly care for law enforcement.”

  No, he didn’t. Strange to have this woman, this stranger, remind him of that, though. “How long have you known Calvin?”

  “I knew of him since a couple weeks after I moved to town, probably.” She grinned. “He’s a bit hard to miss. But I didn’t really know him until Seth and I got together. It’s been about eight years now.”

  “Eight years,” Liam echoed. Seth had been involved with this woman for almost a decade, and Liam had never heard of her until the last couple weeks. Was he fooling himself, thinking there was any friendship left to reclaim?

  He’d apparently been wrong about any lasting feelings from Ben, so was there any reason he’d meet a better reception from Seth?

  They were quiet again, watching as the men raced across the lawn to their discarded shoes and contorted themselves, trying to get the shoes on and tied without popping their balloons.

  Again, Dinah was the first to break the silence. “He missed you, you know.”

  Ben? No. There was no reason for Liam to believe that, and no reason for Dinah to be talking about him. Seth. “He did? I mean, does he still, do you think? Or has a couple weeks of renewed contact taken the luster off?”

  “I think you’re as lustrous as ever,” she said, and there was a light in her eyes, a curve to her lips that made him hope, stupidly, desperately, that maybe she really was talking about Ben. “You hurt him, though. You hurt both of them.”

  Liam nodded. He couldn’t say he was enthusiastic about taking a scolding from this stranger, but she was Seth’s wife and this was her party.

  But she surprised him with a Calvinesque shrug. “Oh well. They survived.”

  “That’s it?”

  Another shrug. “I could come up with something more if you wanted, but I’m not sure I’d really be able to sell it, you know? The outrage or whatever. Honestly, it was a hell of a long time ago.”

  “And everything’s faded. It’s all… done.”

  “Not all, maybe.”

  Before he could ask her what that meant, beg her for an explanation or a benediction or whatever other deep pregnant-lady wisdom she could come up with, a balloon popped out on the lawn, and then another.

  “Kevin’s out,” she said, and he hoped he heard a little satisfaction in her tone. “Oh, and Dr. Miller. That’s too bad—my money was on him.”

  “Not literally? You aren’t actually betting on this?”

  “Calvin’s got a book made for every event. Jesus, I can’t drink—I need to have fun somehow!”

  Liam might have pushed a bit harder on that, maybe tried to figure out which events Calvin had signed him up for and what his odds for success were, but he was distracted by watching Kevin, shaking his head in defeat, returning to find comfort by Ben’s side.

  Ben threw a defiant look in Liam’s general direction before he took Kevin’s hand and kissed his temple.

  Dinah snorted. “You do something new to piss him off, or is he just being a brat?”

  “Something new?” Did sleeping with him count as something new? “Not that I know of. But I guess it’d be easier for him if I wasn’t here.”

  “Easier. Yeah, it probably would be.”

  He was imagining the—the tone in her tone. Wasn’t he? He was imagining the slightest hint of a sneer, to suggestion that “easier” wasn’t a worthwhile goal for someone like Ben. She wasn’t really suggesting that Ben could do better? Better than Kevin?

  Fuck. Even if she was, that didn’t mean she meant Liam.

  He slumped against the back of the porch swing and drank the last of his beer.

  “Good,” she said. “Now, one more. I’ve bet on you, so I want you warmed up, but not drunk. And not too full. And possibly I should tell you now—Seth and I have already made up the spare bedroom for you to sleep in. There’s absolutely no way you’re driving home after you’ve competed in all the games Calvin has you signed up for.”

  “Games? Like—drinking games? At a baby shower?”

  “At a Calvin baby shower.” She smiled happily. “It’s going to be a hell of a party.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I’M REALLY not sure it’s a good idea,” Kevin said.

  Ben tried not to frown at him. Of course it wasn’t a good idea. Did Kevin really need to point out something so obvious? Ben rolled his shoulders and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  “And not really appropriate,” Kevin added. “Why on earth are there fraternity party games at a baby shower?”

  “Frat party,” Ben said. Damn, he’d sounded mad. He forced a smile and said, “I don’t think anyone uses the whole ‘fraternity’ when they’re combining it with the word ‘party.’ Maybe college disciplinary committees. But nobody else.”

  “I actually sat on my college disciplinary committee.”

  Of course he had. Ben smiled again. “I’d like to hear more about that—it must have been really challenging, but rewarding at the same time. But right now, I need to focus on the baby pong.”

  “Beer baby,” Uncle Calvin said from somewhere far too close. “It doesn’t make sense to cut out the ‘beer’… we’re still going to drink beer. It’s the ‘pong’ that’s gone.”

  Yes, the pong was gone, because instead of tossing ping pong balls at the other team’s cups they were tossing little plastic babies. It was either the best baby shower Ben had ever been to or the worst.

  He rolled his shoulders again and put on his game face to glare down the long table at the opposition. Seth. Good aim but easily distracted. And Liam. What the hell had Calvin been thinking when he came up with these teams? Seth and Liam, Ben and Calvin himself. Kevin excluded, because—because Kevin wasn’t really part of this. This set of old friends. Old enemies.

  Old. That was the part to remember. Calvin had set up a little trip down memory lane, but it was just a quick visit to the past. Ben was living in the present. With Kevin.

  Who had drawn his lips up into a positively prissy little moue of disapproval.

  Ben could fix that later. After he and Calvin destroyed Liam and Seth at baby pong. Beer baby. Whatever.

  “Visitors go first,” Calvin said, and he tossed a baggie of plastic babies to the other end of the table.

  Liam nodded seriously, pulled a plastic baby out, and bounced it on the table. “Totally erratic,” he told Seth after several bounces. “Unpredictable. We need to go for the direct throw.”

  Seth had been tossing his own plastic baby from hand to hand, and now he nodded. “Roger. Direct throw.”

  Yeah, beer baby was on.

  Seth had the first toss. A direct hit, beer splashing up out of the plastic cup. Then Liam. Damn it, another hit.

  “That means we
go again!” Seth crowed, and he and Liam did a ridiculous little high-five dance. Well, wasn’t it nice to see them getting along so well? Wasn’t it just lovely?

  Ben downed his beer and braced himself, but both Seth and Liam missed on their second chances. Now it was Ben’s turn. Oh, no, apparently it was Calvin’s, because the old guy was lining up, working out a sort of modified overhand toss—and, splash, right into a cup. Hell yeah.

  “Pressure’s on now,” Liam said. He was watching Ben with—damn it, with a completely inappropriate level of intensity. Sure, it was just because of the game, but the eye contact, the slightly open mouth, the way he was leaning forward, anticipating, waiting for Ben to—to toss a damn plastic baby into a cup full of beer. That was all. He needed to keep his focus.

  He threw and the stupid baby bounced an inch to the side of the target.

  “It’s okay, partner,” Calvin said. “We’re still fine. We’re in this.”

  Yeah, they were in it. They were in it to win it. To teach Liam that he couldn’t just swan back into town for no damn reason and think everyone was just waiting for him, like the last fifteen years hadn’t happened, like the cheating hadn’t happened, like everyone had been in a cryogenic holding chamber and had only been thawed out when he’d shown his face, like—

  Plop. And then immediately after, another plop. No!

  “Death cup!” Liam and Seth yelled triumphantly. Ben didn’t want to know which of them had thrown first and which of them had the killer instinct to throw second, into exactly the same cup. He’d thought Uncle Calvin was his nemesis, but what if it was really Seth? Or Liam?

  Well, actually, Liam made a lot of sense. Liam was almost certainly his nemesis.

  “Now we drink that cup plus two more?” Calvin asked innocently, as if this were just a happy little game at a happy little—oh. Yeah. A baby shower. Ben needed to dial it back a little. Possibly there was no need to have a nemesis in beer baby.

  Ben lifted his cup and glanced over at Kevin, who was still looking decidedly unimpressed with the entire situation. A raise of the cup in salute, but Kevin just shook his head in response. Oh well. Chug, chug, chug. Encouraging cheers from the crowd—from Seth and Liam, even—but not from Kevin.

  There was a third cup. Ben had drunk one, Calvin had drunk one, and there was a third. There was no reason for Ben to drink it. No reason for him to be part of this game at all. Sure, Calvin would be disappointed if he walked away. Seth wouldn’t think much of it. But they’d both forgive him. And Kevin would be impressed. Kevin would think Ben was mature, ready for a real relationship, ready for commitment, maybe even for….

  Ben reached for the third cup, lifted it to his lips, and downed the contents in four swallows.

  “That’s my boy,” Calvin said. “Now, free your mind. Let yourself be the baby. You’re the baby, and you’re so thirsty. You just want a little beer. No, wait, you want to swim in the beer! Swimming is fun for babies. Swimming in beer? Yeah, sure, that’d be fun for anyone. You’re a little baby, and you want to go swimming in the—”

  “That’s not helpful.” Ben straightened, the plastic baby gripped securely but lightly in his hand. He looked down the table. Seth, making some truly ridiculous faces, and Liam, so calm, so cool, so fucking perfect all the time.

  Ben took a deep breath, stared Liam straight in the eyes, and tossed the baby. He didn’t even smile as he heard the plop.

  Seth was quick, though, pulling up the cup and starting to drink before Calvin had a chance to even try for a death cup.

  And Liam was still looking at Ben. Ben was still looking back. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. At least, it wouldn’t have been if they hadn’t had an audience.

  The click of Calvin’s baby hitting the table barely registered.

  But it was impossible to tune out Calvin’s overly dramatic groan, the way he clutched Ben’s arm in despair and slumped toward the ground….

  “We’re going to need to work out a signal for if you ever have an actual heart attack,” Ben told him. “Especially after last weekend. Otherwise you’ll be gasping in real pain and I’ll just ignore you.”

  “I have real pain! Did you see how close that shot was?”

  By the time Ben looked back at Liam, the moment was over, and Liam didn’t make eye contact again for the rest of the game. Which he and Seth won easily.

  There was a brief stretch of peace after that while Calvin marshaled a round of pin-the-fetus-on-the-uterus, and Ben took advantage of the chance to go to the bathroom. After he peed out at least some of the beer, he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He did a few of his deep breaths, trying to get rid of the orange-pink-yellow swirl of Liam and replace it with some nice, calming blue, but someone banged on the door partway through and the whole exercise fell apart.

  There was another event, players racing to be the fastest to drink a beer from a baby bottle without using their hands, and Liam was at his competitive best, throwing himself down on the ground and holding the bottle with his feet without any apparent self-consciousness. Ben went back into the house and made his guesses for all the stupid games in there, trying not to think about how flexible Liam still was, how he frowned in exactly the same way he used to when he was concentrating on something, working toward something… sucking on something….

  Ben pulled another beer out of the fridge and rubbed the cool glass over his face before opening the bottle. He didn’t really need more alcohol, but he was going to have some anyway.

  He was in the yard talking to the mayor, Mack Cleese, having trouble with the conversation because, as usual, all he could think was don’t call him Mayor McCheese to his face, don’t call him Mayor McCheese to his face, when he heard Calvin calling his name.

  “Stroller race is about to start! You should come see this!”

  Ben wasn’t sure why he was being singled out for a special invitation, not until he got closer to the starting line and saw the teams. Fairly innocuous for the most part, but Liam was at the end of one line, Kevin at the other. They were both anchors for their teams; they’d be going head-to-head for the win.

  What the hell had Calvin been thinking when he set all this up? Maybe he really was Ben’s nemesis.

  Ben found his way to Kevin’s side while Calvin explained the rules with typical glee. Each participant had to get the stroller through the obstacle course without touching the unstrapped-in baby doll or letting it fall out. They were only allowed to touch the stroller on the handle, not grab hold of the two ends and carry it. Not sophisticated, but clear enough. Then Calvin added, “And you have to chug a beverage at the far end before you race back and hand off the stroller.”

  Kevin frowned and looked toward Ben as if—what? Asking permission? Ben was pretty sure he didn’t grant it, but Kevin turned around anyway and said, “I’m not comfortable with that part of the race. I don’t think it’s a good idea to encourage alcohol consumption as if it’s some sort of sport.”

  And Ben agreed with him, mostly.

  Calvin just looked confused. “A beverage,” he said. “There’s an assortment down there. Beer, soft drinks, fizzy water—I made them all carbonated, to be fair. But I’m not sure why you’d jump to the conclusion that they’re all alcoholic.”

  It had been a trap, obviously. Calvin had set Kevin up with the beer baby and baby-bottle race, made it seem like the same pattern was repeating, and acted innocent when Kevin made the logical assumption. Typical Calvin. But why was he doing it?

  Not that Calvin ever really needed a “why” for his shenanigans. Personal entertainment was always reason enough. But with the whole party to plan, the guests to fuss over, the games—the real games, not his twisted extras—why would he bother with Kevin now?

  And why had he invited Liam?

  It was hard to believe that the two decisions weren’t connected, but what on earth was Calvin trying to prove? What decision was he trying to make on Ben’s behalf? And why the hell did he think it was his place to do�
�� whatever the hell he was doing?

  Ben reached for Kevin’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Thanks for asking about that,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’re right—drinking alcohol like it’s a sport is pretty unhealthy and immature.”

  Kevin’s surprise was clear enough to make Ben feel guilty. Apparently his date—his boyfriend—hadn’t expected any support. But he’d still had the courage to speak up and express his opinion. An opinion that Ben agreed with. Mostly.

  “You’re a good guy,” Ben said, more quietly this time, so only Kevin could hear. “A really decent human being.”

  Kevin smiled. “I try to be,” he agreed.

  It should have been a sweet moment. It shouldn’t have made Ben want to grit his teeth and yank his hand back from Kevin’s grip. Shouldn’t have made him feel like he was trapped.

  “First racers, on your mark…,” Calvin said, and Kevin let go of Ben’s hand as if he’d forgotten they’d even been in contact. He edged forward, all his attention focused on the race.

  Apparently Kevin was taking the stroller obstacles pretty seriously.

  And so was Liam, Ben discovered as he drew back into the crowd of onlookers. All the participants were fully engaged, yelling advice and encouragement, and otherwise acting as if they were in the finals at the Olympic Games. Calvin had chosen extremely competitive people for this event.

  Made sense that Liam was acting that way—he’d always been driven and intense. But Kevin?

  The first three contestants made it through the course without injury, although one runner from each team spilled the doll out of the stroller and had to race back to the top of the course to restart the run. Liam and Kevin started out neck and neck. Liam had a good initial sprint but took the first corner too fast and almost lost the doll, then had to waste precious seconds trying to get it flipped all the way back into the stroller. Kevin took a more balanced approach.