Page 48 of Faking All the Way
For once, he’s not the center of attention. He’s not the most successful person in the room, the one everyone wants to talk to. Asher’s presence has shifted the social dynamic in a way that clearly bothers him.
“Your ex looks like he’s having a great time,” Asher murmurs quietly, following my gaze.
I watch Daniel’s sour expression as he half-listens to whatever Maya is saying. “He’s probably not used to competition,” I whisper. “He’s always been a golden boy around town. He’s got a successful job as a lawyer, a nice car. He was everyone’s idea of a catch.”
“And now?”
“Now there’s someone more interesting in the room.” I glance up at Asher. “Someone who’s actually accomplished something impressive, not just by small-town standards.”
His mouth quirks up. “Sounds like he should’ve thought about that before he let you go.”
My head jerks back slightly in surprise. I was talking aboutAsher—his hockey career, his success—but the way he turned it back to me, as if I’m the impressive one that Daniel lost, catches me off guard. It’s probably just part of the act, but still, it makes my throat go a bit tight with emotion. Because he said it like he meant it, like Daniel really did lose something precious when he let me go.
Like I’m worth keeping.
Chapter Eighteen
Asher
The party winds down slowly as the evening goes on. By around nine-thirty, some of the guests start to head out, including Kat’s parents, who bundle into their heavy winter coats and hug both me and Kat on their way out the door. Josephine and Mike leave with the kids, who are practically falling asleep standing up. The youngest is already asleep in Mike’s arms, his head lolling against his dad’s shoulder. Several of Kat’s old classmates leave in a group around ten, giving us a wave.
Maya left at some point earlier, although I can’t pinpoint exactly when. But Daniel lingers. He’s been nursing his drink for the past hour, making what looks like polite conversation with Beverly’s remaining guests. But mostly, he’s been watching Kat.
His gaze follows her around the room, tracking her every movement with a subtle interest that sets my teeth on edge. There’s something about the way he looks at her, as if he’s reconsidering decisions he made and realizing what he threw away. As if he thinks he still has some claim to her, some right to look at her that way.
Fuck that. He doesn’t. He gave up that right when he unceremoniously dumped her and moved on to someone else.
Toward the end of the night, when most of the guests have trickled out into the snowy evening, Kat offers to help Beverly clean up. Most people have left by now, just a small group lingering by the fireplace nursing their drinks and chatting in low voices. Daniel is still there too, holding court with an older couple who look like they’d much rather be heading home but are too polite to extract themselves.
“You don’t have to help, sweetheart,” Beverly tells Kat as the group by the fireplace starts to put on their coats, waving goodbye.
“I don’t mind,” Kat says, brushing off her grandmother’s protests and starting to stack up some plates. “Besides, you did all the cooking. The least I can do is help clean up.”
I grab a stack of dessert plates and follow them to the kitchen. Daniel’s voice carries from the living room, going on about something work-related that the couple he’s trapped doesn’t seem particularly interested in. I catch fragments about case law and litigation strategy, the kind of shop talk that’s deadly boring at parties.
In the kitchen, Kat and I start bringing in empty and half-empty platters while Beverly directs operations. She’s got a system, clearly honed over years of hosting parties, and we fall into it easily. Leftovers go into carefully labeled containers while dishes get scraped and stacked by the sink in the order they’ll be washed.
“The party was amazing, Grandma,” Kat says as she wraps up what’s left of a cheese platter. “You really outdid yourself this year. Everything was perfect.”
“Oh, you’re sweet to say so.” Beverly beams at her, and I can see where Kat gets her smile. “I do love hosting thesegatherings. It’s one of my favorite things about the holidays, having everyone together under one roof.”
I grin as I watch them together. It’s obvious how close they are, the easy affection between them that can only come from years of shared history. Beverly’s face always seems to light up a little when she looks at Kat, and Kat moves around the kitchen with a familiarity that makes me think she’s done this dozens of times before, knowing exactly where everything goes without having to ask.
It’s the kind of relationship I used to wish I had with my own father. The kind that’s built on years of showing up, of being present, of knowing each other’s idiosyncrasies.
As we’re doing dishes, Beverly peers to the window over the sink and frowns. “Oh my.”
I follow her gaze.Damn.
The weather has changed dramatically in the past hour. What was a light trickle of snow earlier is now falling thick and fast, blowing sideways in gusts of wind that rattle the windowpanes every once in a while. I can barely see the cars parked along the street through the flurry of white.
“The roads will be a mess,” Beverly says, concern creeping into her voice. “It’s almost white-out conditions with this wind. I can barely see the Millers’ house across the street.”
“We should probably get going then,” Kat says, glancing at me with worry in her eyes. “Before it gets any worse.”
“Absolutely not.” Beverly turns to face us, resting her fists on her hips with a dishtowel still clutched in one hand. “You’re not driving in this. Either of you. You’ll stay the night. I’ve got plenty of room, and I won’t sleep a wink worrying about you two on those roads.”
“Grandma, we don’t want to impose,” Kat protests, but I can hear that her heart isn’t really in it. She’s seen the weather too.
