Page 9 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
Miraculously, Dad doesn’t buckle. “We have a long history with them. That’s not something you let go of easily.”
Isabel bristles, eyes flicking from Dad to us and back. A smirk plays at her lips as she leans in to whisper something in Dad’s ear that makes him fold like a house of cards.
“Isabel’s right. We’ve wasted enough of our time on them. This trip is supposed to be about family, so let’s focus on us instead of them.”
Gross. I can hear Maya gag as Dad and Isabel seal their pact with a kiss.
“We could work on DIY projects together,” Isabel says with a smile. “Spruce up the cabin a bit before it goes on the market.”
That sounds more like free labor than fun family bonding if you ask me, but Dad nods enthusiastically while Isabel rushes off to grab cups for our traitorous champagne.
“Your mom was always saying we should give this place some TLC,” Dad says while Isabel’s gone.
Yeesh. Guess Maya’s not the only one dealing low blows tonight. Playing the Mom card is a dirty move, Dad.
He’s not wrong, though. Every trip, Mami found something new to add to the never-ending list of repairs she wanted to make next time around. Switching up the backsplash in the kitchen, or painting the living room, or sanding the wood on the back deck. But being here is about having fun. Paddleboarding to the middle of the lake to watch the sunset, and staying up all night crafting the perfect s’more,and falling asleep while sketching in the backyard. Not home improvement.
Before we can protest, Isabel returns with a stack of red Solo cups. She waves one of them under my nose, winking as she pours me an extra generous serving of champagne. My attempts to decline are ignored, earning me dirty looks from Dad until I shut up and take the peace offering. Maya clucks her tongue in disapproval, swirling her own untouched cup.
Isabel sets the bottle aside and raises her cup in a toast. “To new traditions.”
“To new traditions,” I mumble half-heartedly as I knock my cup against Maya’s, who is as bitterly disinterested as Iam.
“New traditions my ass,” Maya says out of the corner of her mouth, loud enough for only me to hear.
I nod in agreement, taking a slow, careful sip. Dad and Isabel sing the champagne’s praises while Andy finishes his drink in one gulp, but I can’t stomach another sip.
It tastes like admitting defeat.
CHAPTER THREE
Dad and Isabel don’t waste time kicking off our “new traditions.” And it doesn’t take long for us to find out that a weak front step is the least of the cabin’s issues. Our lackluster champagne celebration came to a crashing halt after a piece of the ceiling in my and Andy’s room broke off and nearly knocked him unconscious. Isabel bandaged yet another wound, and Dad started poking around the cabin for any other “surprises.”
Chances are we won’t get any bites if we try to sell the cabin in its current state. If we did, there’s no way we’d break even, let alone make a profit. No one wants a cabin with a hole in the ceiling, possums in the crawl space, and a bat infestation in the attic. Our Lifetime movie vacation about rediscovering the joy of Christmas has turned into an HGTVExtreme Makeover: Home Editionspecial.
Considering the amount of heavy lifting we’re goingto be doing around the house, I can’t put off working on my piece for the Cardarelli mentorship anymore. At least not if I want to submit the application in time. Something tells me “too exhausted from helping your family de-bat the attic” isn’t on the list of acceptable excuses for a deadline extension.
As soon as we finish breakfast the following morning, Dad hands us paint rollers and announces our first home renovation project: a fresh coat of paint. We all work in silence, occasionally singing along to the “painting vibes” playlist Maya spent more time curating than actually painting. The world is calm…until Henry steps outside.
Henry Seo-Cooke is hard to ignore. At a whopping six foot five, Henry is so big his shadow could swallow all five-foot-three of me whole. Maya once called him “a brainless country ham,” and truer words have never been spoken.
At some point since our last winter here, the Seo-Cookes bought a Jet Ski, which makes Henryimpossibleto ignore.
Our peaceful afternoon of home improvement goes sideways the minute Henry decides to take the Jet Ski out for a spin. Between the sound of the engine and him grunting andpanting during breaks, I haven’t been able to hear myself think for the past hour and a half. Which is probably for the best. I may not be able to hear my thoughts, but I know they’re not nice.
“He’s gotta be getting tired by now, right?” I ask after Henry’s fifth lap around the lake. The Seo-Cookes’ place is so massive, the rest of them probably can’t even hear his one-man show.
Maya shrugs, peeking out the window at where Henry hasstalled on the water to tighten the strap on his Apple Watch. “He’s a cornerback—he probably has energy for days.”
Anyone who’s come into contact with the Seo-Cookes knows that Henry’s destined for football stardom. His dad would tell anyone who would listen, and even people who wouldn’t, that scouts were stopping by Henry’s games his freshman year of high school. Now that he’s fulfilled his dad’s prophecy and become Florida State’s most promising sophomore recruit, Mayareallycan’t avoid him.
It’s annoying, but not surprising, that the boasting wasn’t just talk.
“That’s it!” Dad snaps when Henry and the Jet Ski from hell return to our end of the lake.
“Well, that was quick,” I whisper to Maya as Dad storms off to the kitchen.
“Knew it.” Maya tosses her roller aside, splattering Eggshell Breeze all over my jeans. She ignores my grumbled protest and holds her palm up to my face. “Pay up.”
