Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Bailey
T hanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Well, maybe other than Christmas and a close second to Halloween. There’s something special about the familiar scents of pumpkin, cinnamon and spice, the laughter that echoes through town, and everything else which accompanies the autumn season that makes this time one of my favorite things in the entire world. Though, maybe it’s because North Carolina during November is indescribably beautiful.
Various shades of orange, red and yellow leaves fall to the ground like a puzzle, piecing together the warmth and familiarity of the season and the joy it brings me. They coat the cobblestone roads, vast green lands and every inch of farmland in a beautiful blanket of warmth through the cold that will soon approach. The food is incredible, but that might just be me because my nana and mama are amazing cooks—it’s as if their cooking was heavenly.
“Bailey, can you get your sister in here to come and at least help with the salad?” my mama asks, over the loud ruckus in her kitchen.
It’s Thanksgiving morning, and Nana Dorothy, mama and I are busy at work preparing all the ingredients necessary for the delicious food we’ll be serving tonight. The menu, as it does year after year, consists of the traditional classics with a southern twist. The main course is a Cajun rub turkey with a sweet and spicy white sausage gravy, a maple bourbon and cherry smoked ham, and for Holly, Camden’s wife, a vegetarian option of mushroom Wellington. But it’s the side dishes that are my all-time favorite. Classics comfort like roasted garlic mashed potatoes, four cheese mac n cheese, bacon and maple glazed brussels sprouts, green bean casserole, cornbread stuffing and sweet potato pie.
Brynn and I usually take care of the desserts, which this year will include the signature cupcakes I created for the festival tomorrow. However, my sister has decided she won’t be assisting in any of the food preparation since after last weekend, she is an engaged woman. Apparently, the giant rock on her finger cannot be near any uncooked poultry.
Meanwhile, I’m wrist deep in the bird, stuffing it with a medley of vegetables and herbs. I’m a complete mess of nerves and my brother is to blame. After all, it was Jase's idea to invite the Bishops over for Thanksgiving dinner.
In the wake of Franklin Bishop's death last week, Jase spoke to our mother about the Bishops' need for family, particularly at this time of year. My mother, the saintly woman that she is, agreed and that folks, is why Monty, Monroe and Nash, alongside Theo and Beau, who came to town for the occasion, were joining us for dinner.
I know tonight is going to be a disaster, but it doesn't mean I’m any less excited to be spending my favorite holiday with the man that I love. Even if no one knows it. I remove my hand from the turkey and go to the sink to wash my hands. “Mama, you know she said there was no way she was risking losing her ring tonight.”
“That girl,” Nana says as she pats the turkey dry and takes the compound butter from the counter, lathering every inch of the bird before covering it in a Cajun dry rub. “How is she planning on being a wife if she’s refusing to be in the kitchen?”
“That’s what private chefs are for Nana,” Brynn says excitedly as she saunters into the room and places a kiss on my nana’s cheek. “They didn’t have those in your day.”
Nana scoffs, swatting away at my little sister with a hand covered in seasoned butter. “You kids these days have no sense of reason. It’s what’s wrong with the world. No manners or responsibilities. You just wander through town like hooligans dating and spending hours on those devil devices you carry around in your hand.”
And that’s my cue to end that conversation. I absolutely adore my nana. She’s been my champion throughout the troubles I’ve had with my parents. She may not agree with the choices I’ve made, but she’s also never judged me about them, at least not to my face. Maybe it’s because she knew my mother’s wild side, before she was a married woman. Magnolia Buchanan was no saint, but Nana’s equally conservative views are one reason I limit my time spent around her.
“Nana, I’m an engaged woman, and our Bailey here is bound to surprise us any day now with her latest conquest.” I could murder Brynn for her out-of-pocket comment, and if the look on my face could kill, it would.
“Bailey, is there something you’d like to share?” This comes from my mama, who wears a suspicious expression. The last time she saw me with a man was when I rode in on the back of Nash’s motorcycle. The way her jaw clenches as she bites her tongue and holds back what she’d really like to say. I think this is the exact moment she regrets inviting the Bishops over for dinner.
“Brynn has no idea what she’s talking about, per usual.” I ignore their mundane conversations about the upcoming church service, the festival, and every other bit of condescending gossip they pass along like mockingbirds chirping in the middle of springtime. Here in the south, bless their heart, is the equivalent of they should be ashamed of themselves.
As I busy myself with gathering the ingredients for my desserts, I think back on the week that’s gone by since Nash confronted Billie and me about Monroe’s pregnancy. After much deliberation, mainly him in disbelief about how his sweet baby sister could have had sex and ended up pregnant—highly hypocritical, if you ask me—Billie left the two of us to talk and hash things out. It was our first official fight as whatever kind of couple we were and I soon realized he wasn’t really upset about me keeping her pregnancy from him. Instead, he feared for his sister and what was to come from having a baby as a single mother.
As Monroe’s best friend, I had the same worries. Though, I assured him it was her decision to make and that she would never be alone in any of it. Monroe had us, all of us, including him, although he loved to remind us all of how he wasn't sure what his future in Crossroads would look like. I tried my best to ignore it, assuring him we would take our relationship day by day.
This conversation, of course, came after the endless sex and mind-blowing orgasms he gave me once Billie left. We couldn’t continue to let the outside noise take over what we felt for each other. It had been something special before, but now, as the years went by and we grew up, it all felt so much more intense and real. We needed time to heal or to allow us to mature into two people who’d found their way back to each other, regardless of what separated us to begin with. Though he didn't outright say it, and I lost the nerve to, I know Nash cares about me. I’m almost certain I still love him, but we said we'd agreed not to add too much pressure on ourselves and see how things play out.
Nash spent the week finalizing everything with the ranch and dealing with the services for Franklin—not that any of them were planning on attending. Billie and I spent our free time with Monroe helping her through her grief and talking about how this is going to affect her relationship with her brother. Monty had been cold and distant with her, more because he felt responsible for what occurred and not because he was truly upset with her. She also had spoken little to Nash, but I assured her he was beating himself more about how strained their relationship had been because of him than anything.
At last, after much deliberation on my part, I confided in her about my relationship with Nash and how we’d decided to take things slowly and see what they become. Overall, Monroe was happy for me, though she let me know she also worried about how I would be if Nash decided he wasn’t staying. I told her I could keep holding myself back from taking the chance to be with him for fear that might happen. I’d gotten over it once before, I’d do it again.
All I could hope for was that, tonight, we’d make it out alive.
T he Bishop men are currently gathered in my living room having a drink with my father and my brothers while us gals, Billie included of course, help my mama and nana set up the dining room and plate all the delicious food we’ve slaved all morning on. I can't focus on anything other than the whispers I hear from the living room as I watch my father glare at Nash from his spot against the bar.
“Bailey? Did you hear me?” my mama asks, drawing my attention away from the gorgeous man dressed head to toe in black—a black dress shirt, dark wranglers, and his usual military boots.
His beard is neatly trimmed, slightly shorter than he’s had it recently, while his hair combed neatly in place, makes me want to run my fingers through it and leave it disheveled. I'm stunned by how handsome he is, yet I can't help smiling at his attempt to impress my parents. Not that it would matter but, I appreciate the sentiment.
I shake off my distraction and turn my attention back to the woman in front of me currently scowling at me like it’s her god given right. “Sorry mama, I’m just a little tired. What did you ask?”
Handing me a stack of cloth napkins, folded to look like swans I’m to place on top of every table setting, she shakes her head. “I swear, Bailey. You’ve had your head in the clouds all morning. What is going on with you lately? You’ve been acting so out of character?”
“Nothing, mama. I’ve just been busy at work and preparing for tomorrow's festival. We’ll be running two booths, and a lot of time and effort goes into that.”
She scoffs at the mention of my choice of a career. “If you’d have just listened more to your father and me, you wouldn’t be stressed over all this nonsense. You’d be peacefully focused on your work with the church or with the local charities we help with, happily engaged and soon to be starting your own family like Brynn is.”
Of course, that’s the dream. Beside me, Monroe lets out a muffled curse, agreeing with my sentiment given her situation. We’ve all agreed to respect Monroe’s wishes to keep things quiet about her pregnancy for as long as we’re able to. It’s honestly no one’s business but her own and it may have taken quite a bit of convincing, but her brother’s finally conceded.
Besides, my mother is the last person who should judge her, though it doesn't mean that will stop her.
“Why don’t you go and let your father and the rest of the men know that dinner is ready and to make their way to the dining room?”
With a deep inhale and an ounce of courage, I look toward where the men currently hide out in the living room, drinks in their hand as they partake in hushed conversations. Camden and Tommy stand alongside my father and Mr. Cole, Billie’s dad, while Jase joins the Bishops’, all gathered to one side, speaking only amongst each other.
It’s odd to see them all in one place after all these years, but they’ve somehow made peace with the fact they all have busy lives that have kept them away for various reasons.
“Has Theo Bishop always looked that delicious?” Brynn asks, scooting up beside me as she twirls a strand of her light brown hair in between her fingers. Mind you, her fiancé is standing a mere ten feet away from him.
“I think it might just be the blue wranglers tight around his ass and the cowboy hat that make me want to toss him on the dining table to feast on.”
“Billie Cole,” Monroe shouts, slapping our friend on the arm. “Mind your manners. That's my brother.”
Billie shrugs her shoulders, waving Monroe off like it means nothing. “Like I said before, and I'll say it again, it’s unfair that all the gorgeous men in this town are related to y’all. Besides, I’m not the one sharing more than just a bed with one of them. Oh, but hearing Theo’s voice sing his new song, Carolina , does something to me.”
Brynn slaps me on the arm. “I knew it!” she shrieks, forcing all the eyes in the room to shoot our way. She takes that as a sign to lower her voice, leaning forward and whispering for only the four of us to hear. “You’re sleeping with Nash, aren't you?”
“Keep your voice down, Brynn. I swear to God I could murder you girls right now.” They all giggle like schoolgirls, gossiping about the boy I like as they stare at the four gorgeous men who don’t have a clue what we’re currently discussing.
Ignoring them, I head toward where my father is, meeting his gaze as I stand before him. “Dinner’s ready,” I announce before shifting my eyes over to Nash, who watches me quizzically beneath thick dark lashes, the glass of bourbon teasing his lips.
In a matter of minutes, we all gather around the large, mahogany wooden dining table my brother Camden built, which extends out from the original set for eight, to accommodate the seventeen people gathered around. My father takes his spot at the head of the table, my mama to his right followed by my Nana, Camden, Holly, Tommy, Brynn, Jase and I. To my father’s left sits Mr. Cole, Mrs. Cole, Monty, Beau, Theo, Billie, Monroe, and Nash.
The southern comfort atmosphere of my parent’s home isn’t like something you’d expect out of the large plantation style property. There’s a warmth and familiarity in my mama’s style of decor that gives the space character without being overly antiquated. It’s the reason this place has always felt like home, even if I rarely step foot here anymore.
“Before we begin,” my mama says as everyone takes their seats. “Let us say grace.” One by one, each guest bows their head as my mama speaks. “Thanks be to God, for bringing us all together on this marvelous holiday where we give thanks to the Lord and celebrate all he has blessed us with. For the delicious bountiful gifts of food on our tables, family in our home and to our guests who have blessed us with their presence here today. Through Christ our Lord…”
“Amen.”
“Well, now,” Nana says, reaching for the bowl of cornbread stuffing, “Let us eat.”
My eyes meet Nash’s as he sits across from me at the end of the table. “Fuck me,” he mouths and I all but burst out in a fit of giggles. With a hand over my mouth, I try my best to compose myself, gaining a side eye from nearly everyone in attendance.
Except for Billie, who eyes me with a knowing smile.
My heart races as I watch Nash take his bottom lip in between his teeth. Billie notices and slides a glass of wine my way. I take it, bringing it to my lips for a quick sip before setting it back down. Though, as Nash smiles up at me, his eyes brimming with curiosity and mischief, I know it’s going to take a hell of a lot more wine to keep me.
For the next hour, we all fit into comfortable conversations, devouring every single bit of food set before us.
“So, Monty,” my father says, cutting off the loud conversations occurring throughout the room. “Now that Franklin has left us, what are your plans for your family ranch? It’s a very sought after property. Good land, a prominent location, not to mention I hear the renovations you’ve completed have surely made the place unrecognizable.”
The room grows thick with tension as Monty clears his throat. I can almost feel the anger radiating off Nash as he glares at my father while his brothers do their best to hide their discomfort. Meanwhile, I sit gawking toward him with utter mortification at his tactless inquiry.
“Bismarck, sweetheart. You can’t just talk about the man that way, regardless of if he's no longer with us. Monty dear, what my husband means is are you going to sell the ranch or keep it in the family? You know, since your brothers don’t live in town and you and Monroe have your own place.”
“With all due respect, Mayor King,” Nash begins, but he’s cut off by Monty.
“We haven’t quite spoken with this still being very recent. But the plan is to sell. It was our initial plan before Franklin’s death, to make the necessary renovation to put the house on the market. Now that he’s no longer with us, our plans haven’t quite changed.”
“None of us have any sentimental ties to the place.” This comes from Theo, who, regardless of his celebrity persona, is rather quiet and has kept to himself most of the night.
“Well, I’m sure you're well aware that Franklin ran up some debts in recent years, particularly. He owes a lot of money to some not so nice individuals. I think it’s in your best interest to forgo the property before someone tries to come and collect what they’re owed.”
“No one will be collecting anything from us,” Nash blurts out, his tone clear and steady. “Franklin’s debts are buried six feet under alongside the bastard.” There’s an audible gasp, this one coming from my mama, whose hand rests against her chest in disbelief.
“Nash,” Monty warns, but there’s really nothing that can stop him.
“You may think that, son, but the bank has a right to collect?—”
Nash doesn’t allow my father to continue. “They can try, but they have no right because there is nothing left that belongs to him.”
“What are you talking about?” Beau asks, equally confused as everyone else in the room.
A knowing smile creeps onto Nash’s lips and I feel almost proud of how calm and composed he remains. “As of two weeks ago, The Bishop Ranch belongs to Montgomery Bishop.”
“That can’t be,” my father says, shock clear in his rueful expression.
Nash smirks, aware of my father’s surprise. “I have the deed in my pocket. I can show it to you if you’d like, sir. But as of two weeks ago, Franklin signed ownership over to his eldest son.”
“Nash, what the fuck did you do?” Monty asks, a mix of pride and anger in his question. Angry that his brother has yet again done something reckless without confining in him, and proud that he’s standing up to the man at the head of the table who’s done nothing but stir up trouble for these men their entire lives.
“When I went to visit our father, I took him the paperwork necessary. Told him for once in his life to do something for his family. He signed it over, plain and simple. It’s completely legit, had it notarized and everything, in case you were wondering, Mayor King.”
“Does this mean you and your brothers plan to stay in town?” Mama asks, “I’ve heard a lot about you only temporarily staying while you helped with the renovations.”
Nash nods, his southern manners not allowing him to be rude to my mama. “I can’t speak for them, mam, but that was my plan.”
“Was?”
I'm in awe of him and his remarkable self-control. This man is everything I want and I cannot wait to tell him, better yet, to show him exactly what standing up to my father does to me.
His smile reaches his eyes as his eyes remain locked on mine, despite my mama being the one to ask. “I’ll admit that was my original plan, but I have some unfinished business to attend to.” The intensity of his gaze makes my entire body come alive with an electrifying need to kiss him. To feel the spark set off through me as our lips touch and his hands graze my skin the way he knows how, eliciting a raging wave of arousal.
I have to avert my gaze in order to conceal the blush rising on my neck, a blush clearly caused by his teasing look and taunting smile.
I chance a glance at my father and watch as his eyes flicker back and forth between Nash and I. A knowing look crosses his face and he smirks like he’s figured it all out. I know my father, and his inquisition, won’t end here, but I’m done listening to my family's blatant attempt to humiliate the Bishops. There may have been bad blood between our father’s but I will not let it affect my relationship with any of them.
Monroe is and will always be my best friend. Monty has been nothing but kind to me over the years and I’ll admit I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. As for Theo and Beau, who I don’t really know much about, they don’t deserve to be hated for merely existing.
Though, it’s Nash who is and will remain a part of my life. We’ve endured our own hardships and allowed miscommunications and the decisions of others to affect our relationship for too long. I won’t make the same mistake again. Not when I see his family as my own.
With a sweet smile, I stand from my seat. “Anyone ready for some dessert?”