Page 70 of Fauxmance

There was something familiar about the woman.

"Is that Constance?" I asked.

"Yeah," Hayden said, "that's my grandparents on their wedding day. She always starts the photo albums with a picture of her and grandpa. Says none of us would be here if it wasn't for them anyway, so they deserve the front page."

He smiled at that.

"She's always right."

I looked at the couple again. "They look very much in love," I said.

"Oh, they were. Gigi and PopPopwere a rare case. After he died, she never remarried—though men came from all over to ask for her hand. She refused every time."

"How romantic." I sighed.

Hayden grunted and turned to the next page. There was a newspaper clipping of their wedding announcement as well as what had to be a family portrait of the Davenports. Four children in all, two boys and two girls.

"That's a nice-looking family," I commented.

"Looks can be deceiving," Hayden said.

"They look so cute, all the girls dressed alike in sundresses and the boys in those little suits."

"Yeah, it's too bad they grew up to be such greedy adults."

My brows scrunched as I took in the next page. There was another picture of the same family with the kids all grown up. Mr. Davenport wasn't in this one. Only Constance was there in the back with an empty space beside her. For some reason, it made my chest clench.

"That's my uncle," Hayden said, pointing to one side. "The first wedding we're going to is for my cousin, Phillipa. Her father, Louis Davenport, once tried to convince Gigi that it'd be in her best interest to sell her house to him—dirt cheap, of course—and move into a nursing home."

"But she looked fantastic when I met her," I exclaimed.

"You're right. Gigi is in perfect health, and she was only sixty at the time."

I shook my head, taking in the image of his uncle, seeing a new harshness to his smile I hadn't noticed before. "What a smarmy asshat."

Hayden nodded. "That he is, Magnolia. And you'll find another one of those standing right next to him. My father, Bartholomew Davenport, Jr."

I would've known it was Hayden's father without him telling me. The young man sitting next to me was the spitting image of his dad. They had the same dark hair, strong chin, and gorgeous eyes.

"Still," I said softly, "it must be nice having a dad."

"I'll give him this. He never went so far as to try and oust grandma—probably because he saw how that ended for good old Louis. But my father likes money too much. He only sees value in people based on what they can do for him."

I kept studying Hayden's dad. "He doesn't look so terrible."

"Trust me," he said. "He's not as bad as my uncle, but Dad's got issues."

A beat passed.

"If it wasn't for my mom, he'd be a lost cause. But he got lucky with her."

"Your mom sounds nice," I said.

Hayden gave me a nod. "She is—but technically she's not a Davenport. Mom's the best. I just wish she'd stop trying to psychoanalyze me all the time."

I laughed. "I'm sure she means well. My mom's my best friend, and I'm sure she'd analyze me, too, if I didn't already tell her everything."

"Yeah, but my mom takes it to a whole other level."

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