Page 70 of Fake It Till We Fall
“You get to sleep in bunk beds?” Quinn’s face lit up. “That’s so cool.”
Everyone laughed.
“That’s the part you think is cool?” Ethan shook his head. “We can get you bunk beds if it’ll mean you’ll clean your room.”
Quinn shot her dad a look and turned back to Harper with more questions.
I only half listened as Harper explained the staff quarters to my niece. I couldn’t help but compare the cramped living quarters on a boat to my house a few streets over and the king-sized bed we could share. Maybe I couldn’t compete with the exotic locations, but there were other ways I could compensate.
My hand slid to her thigh under the table, and I squeezed, just a little, before once more tuning into the conversation.
“What’s the most outrageous thing you ever had to cook for a guest?” Avery asked. “I’m always so curious about guest requests.”
“I’m sure they’re a little different than the types of requests you get at the inn,” Harper said. “And to be honest, they’re not actually that outrageous. Most of the time, our guests are pretty basic. They like good food with delicious ingredients.”
“Both of which I’m sure you deliver,” Ethan said.
She blushed a little. “I do my best. But to be honest, as much as I enjoy challenging myself and creating new and innovative dishes, my favorite things to cook are actually the simple things. Fresh-baked sourdough, or Grandma’s French onion soup.” She smiled across the table at Willa. “The dishes that remind me of someone I love, or a place I love, are always my favorite and you know what, the guests always love them, too.”
“Of course they do,” Willa said proudly. “When you cook from your heart, it always shines through.”
“You taught me that, Grandma.” She held her grandma’s eye for a beat before lifting her gaze. When her eyes locked on mine, it felt as if she were speaking directly to me. “Food is about connection. Not just fancy techniques.”
I swallowed hard, shifting in my seat.
Brody cleared his throat. “That’s what I keep trying to tell this family, Harper. They groan about regular family dinners, but it’s about more than the food.”
“We love them,” I said, not taking my eyes off Harper. “Even if some of us don’t love doing the cooking part.”
She smiled softly at me. “Hey, not everyone was made to be a chef. Being able to sit, drink wine, and keep the chef company while she cooks is also a very important job.”
“And that’s why we work so well together.” The words slipped from my mouth without even thinking. But I wouldn’t have taken them back even if I could, because it was true.
We did work well together.
We always had.
The conversation shifted to other topics—memories of Christmases past, Quinn lobbying for a puppy, Preston complaining about the potential development of his favorite trail system, and everyone talking over one another as the dishes were passed around again for second and third helpings.
And the whole time, the only thing I could think of was how perfect it all was and how I never wanted it to end.
This. Harper. My family.
All of us together.
For the first time, it felt like it was all within reach.
Chapter 18
Harper
It had been way too long since there’d been a Christmas where I wasn’t the one in the kitchen cooking for charter guests or high-profile clients instead of family and loved ones. Even longer since I’d had a holiday that I actually got to spend with those loved ones.
I liked it.
A lot.
With dinner over and the dishes cleaned up, the chaos of the feeding frenzy had shifted to a new type of craziness. This time centered around the Lyons’s traditional Christmas game of Pictionary. In the living room, Preston and Reid were arguing over a drawing that could have either been a horse or a fireman, and Quinn loudly challenged her dad’s addition skills when it came to the score while everyone else sat back, laughed, and shook their heads.
