33. Gracelyn
CHAPTER 33
GRACELYN
T hanksgiving day’s bright and sunny, a picture-perfect crisp autumn day. The air’s brisk with a slight wind, leaves blazing orange and red, and the smell of a wood-burning fire hangs in the air.
“We have cocktails outside around the fire before dinner. Family tradition.” Mack laces his fingers with mine as we walk up to the main house.
I spent the last hour selecting the perfect holiday outfit—black dress number six wins. A cute wrap dress with a ruffle hemline, I accessorize with diamond studs, a delicate pave drop necklace, and booties, topping the entire ensemble with a soft gray cashmere wrap. Mack assures me the outfit’s suitable, but butterflies still zoom around my tummy. They seem to have taken up permanent residence there. I suck in a quick breath, trying to get a hold of my nerves.
Even after two full days here, I’m still not comfortable. Tinsley has a lot to do with that, but it’s difficult to unravel the situation. Emma Kate hasn’t exactly been welcoming, and I doubt I’ve left an amazing impression on either of Mack’s parents.
I have a lot of work to do to win over the McIntire family.
Maybe today will be the day. A cozy holiday celebrating food and family.
“Gracie, Ulysses. Happy Thanksgiving!” Mack’s dad bellows across the lawn as we approach the back of the main house.
Just like Mack said, the family plus Tinsley stand around a crackling fire in the freestanding brick fireplace. A sofa and chairs flank a teak coffee table, set with a fancy spread of hors d’oeuvres. Piles of meat and cheeses, olives, and nuts, tiny finger sandwiches, and caprese skewers fill the table, along with crystal glasses and an open bottle of champagne.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Dad.” Mack hugs his father, then his mother, and I follow suit. I try to act natural, even though the gesture’s stiff, considering we’re practically strangers.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Brother.” Emma Kate squeezes her brother, then gives me a light hug. “Gracelyn.”
I hug her back, patting her awkwardly on the back while sucking in my stomach. No need to give her more ammunition.
Tinsley murmurs her greeting, but doesn’t attempt to hug or touch either of us.
Fine by me.
As far as I’m concerned, she needs to keep her grubby little debutante paws off my man.
One of the staff presses champagne flutes into our hands, and Mack’s dad raises his glass to the sky for a toast.
“To a great holiday season.” He nods at each of us, then downs his bubbles in one long slug. Seconds later, he has a refill.
“Cheers.” Tinsley taps her glass to Emma Kate’s and the two of them exchange a knowing glance. Some secret eye signal I can’t decipher.
Whatever.
I have no desire to be in the mean girls club.
“Thanks so much for hosting, Mr. and Mrs. McIntire.” I smile warmly at Mack’s parents and his mom nods, sipping her champagne.
“Our pleasure. I always love seeing my Ulysses.” She beams at her son, and I take the micro jab in stride.
The breeze picks up, the hem of my dress fluttering around my legs, and chill bumps pepper my bare arms. It’s colder out here than I realized. I move toward the fire, eager for the warmth. Mack’s right behind me, but then his dad waves him over to discuss a college classmate of his.
I don’t want to seem clingy, so I stay rooted in front of the fire sipping my drink. Michael Bublé croons from invisible speakers hidden among the landscaping somewhere and I let the gentle notes wash over me, soothing my frayed nerves. One of the staff rushes out to the garden and Mack’s mother excuses herself to tend to the impending culinary crisis.
Leaving me alone with Tinsley and Emma Kate.
Super.
“So, Gracelyn. What are your plans?” Emma Kate swirls the golden liquid in her flute round and round, staring at me over the rim of the glass.
“For Christmas?” I take a quick sip of the drink, the cold liquid sliding down my dry throat.
“More like long-term. Your plans for my brother.”
I choke and sputter, the last drops of wine burning my esophagus.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t act coy, Grace.” Tinsley narrows her eyes at me. “Are you planning on marrying him?”
My tummy seizes, clenching hard, and I swear my dress shrinks two sizes. Suddenly, I can’t breathe, the supple fabric digging into my waist. Face on fire, I shuffle from foot to foot.
“I mean…I don’t know. Maybe?” I answer honestly.
“Figure he’d be a real catch for someone like you.” Tinsley lowers her voice, making sure only the three of us can hear.
I’ve had just about enough of her negative energy, blistering anger ripping through me. I can’t hold back any longer.
“What do you mean, someone like me exactly?” I spit out the terrible phrase, the same one I’ve heard several times this trip. Vague enough to fly under the radar, a subtle insult.
“You know.” She cocks her head, smoothing her long brown hair over her shoulder.
“No, Tinsley. I honestly don’t.” I work to keep my voice even, but the struggle is real. I’m extremely pissed off now. “Say what’s on your mind and let’s get this out into the open.”
“Wow, okay. You don’t have to be so hostile.” Tinsley holds up an open palm, pretending she’s innocent. A real fucking peacemaker.
Emma Kate steps closer to Tinsley, making it clear that it’s two against one here. Them versus me.
“I’m not being hostile, Tinsley. But I’m tired of the innuendo, the snickering behind my back. If you have a problem with me, go ahead and say it.”
“Fine.” She juts out her chin, her cheekbones high and angular. A perfect face, stunningly beautiful.
Too bad her attitude doesn’t match.
“I think you’re after Mack for his money. I don’t know how you landed him, what kind of magical spell you cast. Nothing about the two of you makes sense. I mean, look at him.” Her eyes dart to the corner of the garden where Mack’s deep in conversation with his father.
And she’s right.
The man is freaking gorgeous, in his tailored button down and navy blazer, the luxe fabric stretching over his broad shoulders. The soft waves of his hair feather in the breeze, stubble shading his square jaw. He could pass for a GQ model posing at an outdoor photo shoot. My pussy flutters as he shoves his strong hands into his pockets. Hands that play my body like a finely tuned instrument, pulling out all the right notes. Those full lips that kiss my insecurities away, leaving behind sweet, sweet pleasure.
How the hell did I manage to land Mack?
I’m not rich or beautiful, polished or pedigreed. I didn’t attend a prep school with uniforms and a sprawling wide-open campus. I don’t have a fancy car or boat and I sure as hell don’t belong to any membership-only clubs, unless you count the local beauty supply store.
All I have to offer Mack is my heart. Why would he settle for that?
Not when he could have all this.
An expansive estate with a thin, beautiful wife, a few cute babies sometime down the line. Running around on the lawn, laughing, his parents bursting with pride. And his wife and Emma Kate could be besties, spending spa days together and going on couple vacations.
That’s never going to be me.
I take a deep, shuddery breath and pull myself together. Tinsley may be right about some things, but I have to set the record straight. I’m not a gold digger.
“I’m not after Mack for his money. I didn’t even know he had money until we came here.”
“Uh-huh, right.” Tinsley rolls her eyes, pursing her full lips together.
“I swear. He never breathed a word about it.”
“You expect me to believe you didn’t know my brother has a trust fund?” Emma Kate chimes in, hand on hip.
“Believe whatever you want.” I spit out the words, crossing my arms over my chest. “But I had no idea. Not sure if either of you’ve ever visited your brother in Thunder Creek in all the years he’s lived there. But if you had, you’d know I’m telling the truth. Mack lives next door to my mom. It’s a nice house, but it’s nothing like this. He drives an old aqua pickup truck—he prefers you call it vintage—the same one his grandfather left him. He runs a successful carpentry business out of his garage. This—” I gesture at the lawn, the striking outdoor fireplace, the massive main house. “All of this is not the Mack I know.”
Emma Kate and Tinsley both stare at me dumbfounded, mouths slightly open like two stunned goldfish.
“Now if you’ll excuse me.” I set my champagne glass down on the table and walk toward the house. I need to duck into a bathroom and compose myself before facing Mack’s parents at the dinner table.
Stepping into the safe haven of the main house, I run straight into his mother.
“Hello there, Grace. Everything okay?” Her eyes flick over me, sizing me up and surely noticing my blotchy neck. Confrontation always mottles my skin, giving me away.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
Mrs. McIntire wraps her arm around my shoulders. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been meaning to get you alone.”
Oh shit. Now what?
I gulp, but force a smile onto my face. “Oh?”
“Come.” She leads me down the hallway, past room after room. I swear I could spend a month here and still get lost in this maze of untouched spaces.
Finally, she ushers me into a quiet, jewel-toned room, with forest green wallpaper and twin matching brocade sofas. Oak shelves line the walls, filled with books I’m certain no one currently alive and in residence has ever read. At the far end of the room, illuminated with soft gallery lighting, is a full wall of trophies, ribbons, and photographs.
An homage to Ulysses Fauntleroy McIntire III.
“Oh wow.” I survey the bronze trophies, each engraved with Mack’s name.
All-state champion.
Defensive Player of the Year.
MVP.
College all-star
A photo of a young high school Mack in a suit and tie on college signing day, giddy as he commits to Georgia. Mack in his college jersey, holding a football and grinning at the camera. Mack and his team after winning the rivalry game against Florida, trophy raised high above his head.
“Ulysses was always a very talented athlete. We thought for sure he’d turn professional after college.” Mrs. McIntire sighs, her hair swishing across her shoulders. “When that didn’t happen, his father and I still held high hopes for our son.”
A tiny furrow forms between her otherwise smooth brow. “He was a decent student. He only needed three years of school to practice law with his father. We had absolute faith in him.”
I nod, my throat dry and scratchy. Why is she telling me all this?
“We thought for sure we’d be grandparents soon, too. He and Tinsley dated through college and we had the wedding practically planned.”
Heat flames my face, the wind sucked from my lungs. It’s like his mother just sucker punched me without lifting a diamond-encrusted finger.
“The day they broke up was devastating. Absolutely devastating.”
The tell-tale sting pricks at my nose and the back of my throat. I’m frozen to the spot, don’t dare make eye contact with her.
“We all loved Tinsley. Plus, we knew she came from good people and her heart was in the right place. She has her own family money, she doesn’t need ours.” Mrs. McIntire spins to face me, her blue eyes cold. “Ulysses can be—how should I say this—” She taps the pads of her fingers together, searching for the words. “Rather obtuse about people and their motives. Not that I’m saying yours are bad…”
Uh-huh.
I swallow hard, running my thumb over the smooth stack of bangles on my wrist.
“Ulysses is my only son. He inherits much of this kingdom. We hate to see him squander his many blessings.” She presses her lips together in a tight pinch, frowning.
So now he’s squandering his blessings on me?
I’ve had more than I can bear.
Taking a shuddery breath, I nod. “Yes, ma’am, I understand. Your son is an amazing man.” My voice wobbles and tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to let this woman see me break.
“I love him very much. For who he is, not what he has. For the record, I had no idea about any of this. He never breathed a word about his family fortune.”
Or his family, but I figure now’s not the time to mention that.
“Thank you for sharing this with me.” I gesture at the Ulysses shrine. “He’s incredible.”
I back away from the wall and his mother, slowly at first. As I get closer to the door, I pick up speed. Then I turn and hurry away as quickly as I can, putting distance between me and Mack’s family.
This is never going to work.
I don’t fit in here. Don’t want to fit in here.
This may be Mack’s world, but it will never be mine.
Jogging down the hall, I burst out into the garden and run down the path to the guest house.
I need to go home.