Louise was running late.

This was partially because she had gotten stuck on the tube, and partially — okay, mostly, Louise admitted — because she'd drunk an entire bottle of red wine last night. She and Ella had stayed up late, swapping memories of Millie: her sister's graduation; her horrific piano performance; the time she'd secretly kept a frog in their bathtub for a week.

Ella had fallen asleep at midnight, sprawled out on a couch, glossy photo albums open on the table. Louise had spent the night staring up at the ceiling.

And now, Louise was late.

She hurried across the street, cursing her heels as she stumbled. Then again, Louise reflected, she was always off-balance these days. She felt that the entire world was shaking apart, like a pair of giant invisible hands had seized a snow globe and tossed it into the air. She was tired. So goddamn tired.

Ben was waiting outside of the glass building, dressed in a navy suit. His brown hair was styled today, and he glanced at his large wristwatch.

"Do I want to know, Bentley?"

She frowned. "Can we call a truce? Just for today?"

Ben held up his hands. "I'm not having a go at you."

"Well," Louise said, shouldering past him, "you have a funny way of showing it."

They made their way into the building. A harried-looking man was waiting for them in the lobby, and he introduced himself as Darby. Louise blinked. She was uncertain whether that was his first name or surname, and as they entered Darby's office, she realized that she was even less certain about his décor.

A large fish tank filled with flowers. A half-eaten pink pineapple. No framed photos, apart from a shot of a mallard duck.

Ben raised an eyebrow that very clearly said, "What the hell?" Louise shook her head.

"Tea?" Darby asked.

Louise looked at the kettle — ancient, covered in dust — and shook her head.

"No, thanks," Ben said.

They sat. Darby typed something on his laptop. Paused. Clicked on something. Adjusted his jar of pencils.

"So," Darby said. "How much did Camille and James discuss with you both?"

Louise felt a jolt go through her. She rarely heard her sister's full name that it sounded odd to her now, like a word that lost its meaning after you said it too many times. If Millie was here, she would roll her eyes and say, "What am I, French royalty? Call me Millie, please."

Her throat tightened.

"Nothing," Louise said. "They told us nothing."

"Ah." Darby steepled his hands. "I was afraid of that."

Ben leaned forward. "What is it?"

His voice was even, but Louise could see his knee jiggling under the table. Somehow, the sight of it relaxed her. At least she wasn't the only one freaking out.

"Here's the thing," Darby said slowly. "Camille and James have made the pair of you joint executors of their estate. They want you to have almost everything. The townhouse in Belgravia, the car, their share of the Bentley holiday homes — it's all yours."

"Oh," Louise said.

She blew out a breath. Well, that would be a terribly awkward conversation with Max, but she didn't see what the big deal was. Max wasn't exactly strapped for cash; his band made millions every year.

"And Hugh?" Ben prompted. "Vienna?"

"Well..." Darby rubbed at his neck. "Christ, there's no easy way to say this, but Camille and James also designated you as their legal guardians." He paused. "They want both of you to take care of their kids."

There was a long, drawn-out pause.

Louise found her voice first. "Together?"

"Together," Darby confirmed.

"As in..." Ben's voice was hoarse. "You mean swapping weeks?"

"We could do that." Louise's brain was speeding down a racetrack, gathering too much momentum to stop. "I'm a professional event planner. I know how to make a colour-coded schedule."

Darby fiddled with a pencil. "Ms. Bentley—"

"I can have them at my place in the mornings," Louise said, twisting to face Ben. "I don't work until the afternoon. Then I can drop them at school. And you can pick them up and take them back to your flat in the evenings, right?"

Ben hesitated. "I work late. Very late."

"We can get a nanny."

Darby let out a breath. "Well, that's not exactly—"

"I know someone," Ben said. "My childhood nanny, Natalia. I can ring her. Not sure if she's still in London, but we can—"

"Stop!" Darby said.

His voice was sharp. Sharp enough that Louise jumped, almost upsetting the half-eaten pink pineapple. Beads of sweat had formed on Darby's head, and he produced a monogrammed handkerchief, dabbing at his forehead delicately.

"Sorry," Darby said. "I apologize for speaking so harshly." He lowered the handkerchief. "What I should have said — what I'm trying to say — is that Camille and James specified that they want the children to remain in the family home."

There was a long silence. Ben leaned forward, his face blank.

"You're joking," he said.

"What?" Louise glanced between them. "I don't get it."

"Bentley..." Ben's voice was pained. "If I understand Darby correctly, he's asking us to live in the house together."

It took a second for the words to sink in.

Louise gripped the handle of her purse. Something was skittering up her throat, a pincered, eight-legged creature, spinning silken webs until it was difficult to breathe. The room tilted as she stood.

"Sorry." She scraped her chair back. "I just need... Sorry."

Louise pushed blindly for the door.

She knew it was Ben.

He had a certain way of walking, his footsteps sure and swift like an arrow hitting a target. Louise didn't bother to look up. She knew how she must look: smudged mascara, tangled dark hair, splayed out on the linoleum floor by a potted plant. Although thankfully, she hadn't set any curtains on fire.

"If you say something insulting," Louise warned, "or condescending — or rude—"

Ben held out a shiny plastic package. "Want one?"

"What?"

"Protein bar," Ben explained. "I came straight from the office, so I grabbed them from Tesco. It's cinnamon-roll flavoured."

He flopped down beside her. Well, flopped was the wrong word, Louise reflected; she couldn't picture Ben Langford flopping anywhere. He moved through the world like a knife slicing through the soft skin of a peach.

She took the protein bar. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

Ben leaned his head back against the wall. Dark shadows crowded his eyes, and there were ink smudges on his hands. Had he been at the office all night? She wondered if that was because his boss had given him a lot of work, or because Ben was looking for something to distract himself. To chase away the thoughts that haunted her at night.

"We can't take them," Louise said.

Ben closed his eyes. "Who would else would you suggest?"

"Max," Louise said immediately.

It was the obvious choice; Max was two years older than them, and Hugh and Vienna adored their uncle. But Ben was already shaking his head.

"He's on tour all the time," he pointed out. "How would the kids attend school? Or have a stable home base?"

"Fine." Louise took a bite of the protein bar. Cinnamon warmed her, followed by something sweet as icing sugar. "What about my aunt Susan?"

"Isn't she ancient?"

She took another bite. Fair point, actually. Susan needed one of those motorized stair lifts just to get up to her bedroom at night; Vienna would probably treat it as her own personal throne and make Susan crawl up the stairs.

"You must have family," Louise said. "What about on your Mum's side?"

Ben shook his head. "Mum's from Morocco originally; most of her family is over there. And I've never met my father's parents."

Louise blew out a breath. Damn. That only left her Canadian grandfather, Pops, who was a whisky-slinging horse racer with a penchant for gambling. Not exactly a paternal figure, although she supposed that Hugh would make good money as a bookie.

Oh, god.

This whole thing was a disaster, wasn't it? They would never be able to find someone else to take the kids. At least, nobody that they knew.

Louise polished off the protein bar. "What happens if we say no?"

"What?"

"Let's say that we refuse Darby," Louise elaborated. "And say that we don't want to keep Hugh and Vienna. Where do they go?"

"I don't know." Ben opened his eyes. "Foster care, probably."

"Oh."

For just a second, Louise let herself consider it. Would it really be so bad? Whoever the foster parents were, they had to be better guardians for Hugh and Vienna than she would be. For starters, they'd be older than twenty-four. And they also wouldn't kill all their house plants and consider frozen fish sticks a viable Wednesday night dinner option.

But they would be strangers.

Louise crumpled the shiny paper. No. She couldn't do that. Couldn't let Hugh and Vienna go to strangers, even if those strangers were more qualified. Some part of her shrunk back at the very idea of it.

"Do you even want kids?" she asked.

Ben ran a hand over his eyes. "I don't know. Haven't really had the chance to think about it. And with work..." He dropped his hand. "But probably not, no. Do you?"

Her response was immediate. "No."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

She licked icing sugar from her fingers. Ben's eyes followed the movement, and then he looked away, his throat bobbing.

"Right," he said. "So where does that leave us?"

Louise shook her head. "I just don't understand. Why the hell would James and Millie choose us to look after the kids? We're twenty-four. No offense, Langford, but we're not exactly parenting material."

"We'd figure it out," Ben said.

She raised an eyebrow. "And co-habiting?"

"Oh," Ben said. "That's right. We have to live together."

He said the words the way that someone might say we have to hoover the flat this weekend, or Sainsburys was out of food so we have to eat rats for dinner. Louise picked at a loose hem on her blazer.

"There are three bedrooms," she said. "Hugh and Vienna can share."

He adjusted his watch. "We'd still have to see each other every day."

Irritation rose in her. "Don't worry, Langford. I won't touch your precious political autobiographies or whatever you read. We'll hardly even see each other." She looked down at the crumpled protein bar. "Let's just take some time to decide, alright?"

Annoyingly, Ben remained unruffled. "We don't have long. Max and Ella leave this weekend, don't they?"

"Yeah."

"The kids need a routine," Ben said. "Stability."

"I know."

"They're scared," Ben continued. "And they miss their parents." He leaned forward, his tie dangling. "Everything keeps changing for them, and if we have to break the news that they're going to live somewhere else—"

"I know, Langford." Louise's voice rose. "But it's not like choosing what to order on Deliveroo. I'm not deciding between a burrito and a pizza. This is a huge decision." The words echoed around the silent lobby, and Louise rubbed at her eyes. God, she was tired. "Sorry. Just... give me a few days. I need to think on it."

Watery daylight filtered through the window, illuminating dust motes around Ben's head. He was watching her with steady green eyes. Not the same emerald as her own, Louise noted, but more of an olive colour. Although that wasn't quite right; it made Ben sound softer and more pliable than she was, which wasn't true. He was made of sturdier stuff.

Louise found herself leaning closer, drawn in by the golden ring that circled his pupil like a halo. She couldn't remember noticing it before. Then again, maybe she'd never sat close enough to notice it.

Ben stood up abruptly, breaking the spell. "Okay. But for the record, I'm in."

She blinked. "You are?"

"James chose us," Ben said. "My brother might have been an optimist, but he wasn't naïve. He'll have weighed up the pros and cons, and if he thinks we can do this, then we can." His smile was tight. "Ball's in your court, Bentley."