Page 11 of Festive Faking
Smiling, I took a slow and steady breath. “Let’s see. My grandfather started our family business with one little hotel in San Francisco. My father and his brother inherited it and decided to expand. They bought up real estate in up-and-coming markets around the world and built an empire.”
Aspen took a seat on the coffee table opposite us. “Mac’s family owns BlazeLuxe International.”
Meemaw squinted at her granddaughter. “You’re talking like I’m supposed to know what that is.” Turning to me, she said apologetically, “Don’t have much use for hotels. Everything I need is right here in Rust Canyon.”
I huffed out a laugh, loving her candor. “Nothing wrong with that, ma’am.”
“What about your mother’s side?” she prompted.
I fought the urge to grimace. How did I put this delicately?
“Mom was a dancer.”
Maybe that was vague enough that she might assume Mom had been something classy and graceful, like a ballerina, instead of the truth that my mother was a stripper my father had knocked up and was forced to marry. One whose nasty cocaine habit only got worse when she had access to unlimited funds as the wife of a wealthy man, and eventually, she overdosed, leaving behind two young children and a husband who hadn’t cared about her more than his job.
A gentle squeeze on my knee had my head snapping up. Aspen’s gaze was full of understanding, like she could read between the lines on what Iwasn’tsaying. But there was also regret swimming in those beautiful blue depths, like maybe she was coming to realize that she’d written me off without reallyknowing me. It gave me hope that she might be open to wiping the slate clean and starting fresh.
“She passed,” I whispered, more to Aspen than to the woman who’d asked about my family in the first place. “A long time ago.”
That palm resting against the denim of my jeans flipped over, and my breath caught when she left it there in a silent offer for me to take it. Heart hammering against my ribcage so hard it threatened to burst free, I twined my fingers with Aspen’s, accepting the simple gesture of comfort.
Clearing my throat, I checked off the last member of my immediate family. “My sister, Kensington, is two years older and already works in the family’s corporate offices with my father.”
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Aspen, for fear she might pull away if I broke eye contact.
Meemaw made an impressed sound. “Would do the world good to have more women in positions of power. Are you planning to join them when you’re done with your schooling?”
That’s what everyone expected of me. I’d forgone obtaining a master’s in business like my sister and cousins, electing to pursue the structural side of what we created by focusing on architecture. But the idea of designing beautiful buildings in locations only accessible by the ultra-rich didn’t inspire me. I wanted to make a difference in the world, though I was struggling to figure out a way to do that beyond cutting checks to worthy causes.
“Probably.” It pained me to say it, but it was true.
Before I could fall too deep into a pit of despair, thinking about my boring, unsatisfying future, Daisy clapped her hands from the threshold of the kitchen and declared, “Time to get to work! These cookies aren’t going to bake themselves.”
Chapter 5
Aspen
We broke off intopairs inside the kitchen—Mama with Meemaw, Tripp with his best friend, Penny, and me with Mac. Having an extra person left Dad free to ride out to the pastures to check on the herd. While Jett Sullivan loved his family with his whole heart, he was happiest when he was on horseback.
The room was full of laughter and cheer as excitement surrounding the upcoming holiday bubbled over.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Mac as we worked on rolling out the dough thin enough to layer it for our assigned pinwheel cookies. He caught me a few times, offering a smile in return, but I quickly averted my eyes, heat flooding my cheeks.
The story he told about his mom had stuck with me. He’d put on a brave face for Meemaw, but I could tell a sadness lurked beneath that charming façade.
What if I’d been wrong about him all along? Sure, his family had money, and while that brought with it a certain type ofphysical comfort, it didn’t protect you from the harsh realities of life.
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to grow up without my mom. Even now, the idea of losing her made it hard to breathe. She was the first one I wanted to call whenever anything happened in my life—minus the Mike breakup, of course. Not having her love and support readily available would be devastating. I wasn’t sure how anyone recovered after the loss of a parent.
That’s why I hadn’t thought twice about offering Mac my hand. My strong sense of empathy was both a blessing and a curse. I could physically feel his pain, and I grew desperate to make it better for him. Didn’t mean I wasn’t shocked as hell when he accepted my gesture of comfort, his warm fingers curling around mine. Or when our eyes locked and I found I couldn’t look away, even as he continued speaking to my grandmother. And I was just the tiniest bit sad that my mom broke us out of that trance when she burst into the room and reminded us why we were gathered in the main house for the day.
Ugh, what was wrong with me? This was Mac we were talking about. Hearing he had a slightly less-than-perfect origin story shouldn’t be enough to have me rethinking my view of him. He was still the guy who pushed my buttons for sport, whose cockiness preceded him into any room.
But he was also the guy who didn’t hesitate to help me when he found me alone in a library, spiraling because I’d been dumped a week before I was set to take my boyfriend home for the holidays.
“You about done with the green?”
“What?” I asked in a daze, too lost in thought to process his question.
