Chapter 73

As I walked down the tree-lined street, my boots tapping quietly against the pavement, the cool fall air bit my cheeks. The world was softly illuminated by the late afternoon's golden light, but it didn't seem to ease the burden that was pressing against my chest. Concerns for Emily, her mother, and how her life seemed to be changing into something I hardly knew consumed my heavy thoughts.

As I dodged a man with his dog, I slipped my hands deeper into my coat pockets. My eyes were drawn to the tiny café in front of me by the subtle scent of roasted coffee beans. I had only intended to walk aimlessly, not to stop, but the prospect of a hot beverage and a peaceful spot to collect my thoughts was too alluring to resist.

The loud hiss of the espresso machine and the soothing murmur of conversation welcomed me as I pushed open the door. A tiny sense of relief washed over me as the aroma of coffee blended with the subtle sweetness of pastries. Time seems to slow down there, providing a moment's relief from the bustle outside.

I looked around, trying to find a table that was empty. The café was crowded, with a group of students engrossed on their laptops and a couple conversing over shared desserts. I moved toward an empty corner table by the window after my gaze fell upon it, swerving between seats and patrons.

I noticed a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye as I slid into the chair and put my luggage down. Ben. His forehead was wrinkled in concentration as he sat at a table a few feet away, his face illuminated by the illumination of his laptop screen.

Fantastic, I thought, holding back a sigh. He had to be here of all locations in New York.

He looked up and met my gaze just as I was debating whether or not to act as though I hadn't seen him. His face lit up with a smile, and before I could even come up with a way out, he waved his hand casually.

Next he was closing his laptop and walking towards me.

So much for solitude. "Is there any situation where caffeine isn't your solution?"

Ben was now standing in front of my table, carrying a cup of a neon-pink beverage with whipped cream on top that could only be characterized as an insult to coffee.

"Judging by your drink, I'm not the one who needs saving," I quipped, raising an eyebrow.

With a laugh, he placed his laptop bag on the chair opposite me. "It's for my niece. I don't actually drink this-unless I'm being blackmailed by a ten-year-old."

I grinned. "A convenient justification."

Ben's eyes glinted playfully as he tilted his head. "Mind if I join you, or do you prefer solitude with a side of judgment?"

I responded, "Solitude doesn't argue back," but I pushed the chair across from me with my foot.

I couldn't help but note how his fine suit contrasted with the absurd drink he was holding as he settled in. Sitting across from someone who was so closely connected to Ethan's world was odd, but Ben felt... different. Perhaps less guarded.

"You always this friendly to strangers?" he asked, opening his laptop and pretending to type.

I cupped my cup and leaned back. "Only to those brave enough to drink neon sugar in public."

I was unaware of the anxiety I was carrying until I heard Ben chuckle, a warm, sincere sound.

He shut down his laptop and said, "So, what brings you to this café?" His eyes were keen, as though he already knew the answer, but his tone was informal.

I said, "Needed a break." "It was heavy in the hospital."

His face softened as he nodded. "Emily must find Margo's situation difficult."

Unconsciously swirling my cappuccino, I paused. She is immersing herself in her work, which is the only way she knows how to deal with it. Ethan isn't helpful.

Ben leaned a little forward. "What do you mean?"

I was unsure of how much to say. "He keeps her occupied, assigns her assignments that I'm not sure; I feel bad. I can see it gnawing at her, even if she won't acknowledge it.

Ben's mouth clenched. "That seems about correct. Whether they want to or not, Ethan has a way of drawing people into his circle and holding them there.

Unspoken meaning weighed heavily on his words as they hovered in the air. I observed him, curious about his true level of knowledge about Ethan and his willingness to divulge it.

"Is that how you politely point out that he's controlling?" I inquired.

Ben gave a shrug. "He is complex. Even after knowing him for a while, I'm still unable to determine whether he is utilizing or protecting others.

I had a twinge of discomfort. That's not how Emily sees things. She believes he is acting in the family's best interests.

"And you?" Ben fixed his eyes on mine.

I paused. In all of this, I believe she is losing herself. She has changed from the Emily I knew growing up.

Ben's countenance was unreadable as he leaned back. "That's not unique to you. I've also observed Ethan's secrecy and his approach to situations. He seems to be playing a game that no one else is aware of.

His tone tightened my chest in some way. "Do you believe he poses a threat?"

Ben paused, seemingly considering what he was going to say. "Not on purpose. However, even when he doesn't mean to, he does harm to those around him. I watch him-and now Emily, too-for that reason.

Startled by the abrupt change in his attitude, I blinked. A sharper, more serious Ben had taken the place of the jovial, laid-back Ben.

I whispered, "You're concerned about her."

He gave a nod. She is good. Ethan is pulling her into a tangle that is too good for her.

We were silent for a time. The hum of the café filled the quiet, broken only by the low murmur of people and the clatter of mugs.

Finally releasing the strain, I remarked, "You're not as bad as I thought."

Ben's eyebrow went up. "Should I feel flattered or offended?"

I said, a tiny smile tugging at my lips, "Take your pick."

With hesitation, I continued, "Ben, do you ever think that we're simply... bystanders in all of this? observing them make choices that we are powerless to stop?

He looked at me for a long time before responding. "Perhaps. However, that does not exclude us from taking action.

My phone buzzed on the table before I could reply. I felt sick to my stomach as I looked at the screen.