Page 65 of Paths

Ignoring her mom’s words, Maya holds her ground and gestures to me. “Mother, I’d like you to meet Grady Cain.” Maya looks up to me with a raised eyebrow, silently giving me an I told you so look. “My mother, Vanessa Augustine.”

I try to hide my smirk and look back to the Wicked Witch of New York. Letting go of Maya, I step forward offering my hand and do my best not to sound sarcastic. “It’s a pleasure.”

Even though she doesn’t look like she wants to, I’m sure her social niceties take over and she puts her cold, firm hand in mine for a quick shake. “I’m sure it is.” Looking back to Maya she goes on. “Your room is ready and the guest room is available for him.”

I’m about to object, but Maya beats me to the punch. “We’ll take the guest house.”

Well, that’s even better. I should’ve assumed there’d be a guest house.

Vanessa’s face turns hard. “You will not.”

“We will,” Maya counters. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I came to see Joe and want to do that right away.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes, but doesn’t say another word about the room assignments. But what she does say, surprises us both. “Dinner will be served at seven, cocktails at six-thirty.”

“Seriously,” Maya complains. “There’s no reason for all the pomp and circumstance. I’m only here to see Joe, we’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.”

Vanessa Augustine drops her arms and stands as straight as she can. A smile creeps over her face, and I can see if she weren’t being a bitch, she could be pretty. Not as beautiful as Maya, but still, pretty.

That’s until her smile turns into a sneer. “We’re having guests—the MacLachlans. Ron and Nancy would like to see you, and I’m sure you can imagine Weston has been out of his mind worried. He’s anxious to make amends and offer you a fresh start.”

“Mother—” Maya exclaims.

“Ah, I remember Wes,” I interrupt and Vanessa finally acknowledges me with a scowl. I go on to note, “Interesting guy. He can’t seem to take no for an answer, but you’ve gotta give him credit for persistence. What’s for dinner?”

She doesn’t tell me what’s for dinner, but she does glare at me and I can’t help but wonder if Maya was switched at birth. There’s no way they can be related.

“I suppose I’ll arrange for your bags to be delivered to the guest house,” she says.

“No need,” I answer quickly. “I can get our bags.”

It seems only commoners carry their own bags, because she rolls her eyes, and turns to walk away with more attitude than before, if possible.

We’re left standing alone, under the monster Christmas tree and within the walls of the massive structure Maya grew up in.

I’m not sure if Maya’s either more surprised or freaked about us having dinner with her mobster ex fiancé and his mobster family, so I turn to her and say, “Well, this is gonna be more fun than I thought. We should stay for a week.”

She pulls her hands up and runs them through her hair, tightening them at the back. “Fucking hell.”

“Your mom could’ve gotten a bigger tree. She didn’t try very hard,” I go on.

Maya shakes her head. “I hate her.”

I agree and have nothing else to add, so I ask, “Is there anything to do? There’s gotta be a bowling alley or an indoor basketball court.”

“She arranged for him to come to dinner. I knew she’d do something, but not this.”

I pull her into my arms, and point out the obvious, “They can’t make you marry him. We’ll eat dinner—hopefully the food will be good—and finally prove to them all you will not be marrying Weston MacLachlan. What can happen?”

She looks up at me and sighs. “The possibilities are endless.”

“You’re right, they are,” I agree. “Don’t worry about it now, let’s go see your brother. When we’re done bowling, I want to see the guesthouse.”

She finally smiles. “There’s no bowling alley.”

I try to frown, but it’s hard while watching her smile. “Well this mansion fucking sucks. I bet Charles Schwab has a bowling alley. Or … I don’t know, some other old, rich guy.”

She laughs and lifts up to her toes to kiss me. “Come on, let’s go see Joe.”

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