Chapter 19
Magnolia
“Who are you?” A man with a wannabe mustache stops in front of us as we walk in. He’s frowning.
“Kevin, this is my fiancée,” Nash says.
Kevin glares at me but doesn’t say anything. He turns back to Nash. “You better be getting a prenup.”
Nash snorts and squeezes my hand. “Come on, let’s find a seat.”
There are at least twenty people in the room. And there’s a dining room table that’s actually long enough to seat everyone. I’ve never seen a table so big.
Nash stops walking and leans down to whisper in my ear, “It’s a little ridiculous, isn’t it?”
His breath tickles my ear, and a tingle runs down my spine. “I think my apartment could fit in in here. But this room feels colder, if that’s possible.”
“It’s the overall chill of everyone’s attitude. Their fortune slipped away the minute that Grandpa recovered.”
I take the time to look at everyone in the room. No one is smiling. Conversation is a quiet hum. For it being a room full of people, it’s painfully quiet.
The only spot of color is a girl around early college age, or maybe late high school, wearing a quilt style sweater with reds, oranges, and greens in a scattered pattern. She’s sitting in a plush chair in the corner, reading a book.
“Who’s that?” I ask him.
Nash follows my eyes. “That’s Harper. She’s a cousin.”
“Do we like her?”
“Yes, she’s the most likable of the bunch and does her best to stay out of the family drama.” Nash starts walking to the end of the table closest to Harper. There are platters of food filling the table that smell divine.
“Who cooked dinner?”
“Grandpa had Sid cater it,” he replies.
“And no one’s eating? It smells delicious.”
“They’re too busy gossiping,” Nash muttered.
That’s the exact moment I realize all the eyes in the room are trained on me. I guess that makes me the fresh meat in the room.
“Harper,” Nash says as he pulls a chair out for me, and I sit down.
Harper looks up from her book. “Oh good. Somebody normal.” She closes her book and comes to sit in a dining chair next to me.
Nash sinks into the chair on my other side. “How have things been?”
Harper shrugs. “I’m sure you can imagine. No one knows what to do with themselves. No one wants to be here.”
“Then why are we?” I ask.
Harper looks at me sharply. “I wish I had an answer. It’s supposed to be a celebration that Grandpa is doing better, but nobody looks very happy, do they?”
“A bunch of vultures,” Nash mutters, rather loudly in my opinion.
Harper hums her agreement. The rest of the family makes their way to the table. Nash whispers names and connections in my ear. There’s no way I’ll keep them all straight, but the moral of the story is it’s a mix of aunts, great aunts, cousins, and uncles.
No one says anything besides Nash and Harper. I spot a girl farther down the table who’s making a funny face at Harper. “She looks like you.”
“That’s my older sister, Jackie, and right next to her is James.” Harper smiles at me. “How did Nash convince you to come tonight? Didn’t he warn you how awkward family dinners are?”
“He warned me, but maybe not enough,” I reply with a laugh.
Nash gives me a little glare, and I grin back at him.
But Harper is right—this dinner is one of the most awkward events of my life.
Nash even holds my hand under the table as reassurance.
There isn’t a regular flow of conversation like most social gatherings.
No, not here. It’s a volley of shots fired intent on maximum damage inflicted.
I’m convinced that no one in this room likes each other—even the ones that are married to each other.
“Are they always like this?” I whisper as he leans close. He smells good, and I can’t help but take a second sniff.
“Yes. No one knows how to be normal in this family,” he whispers back.
As dinner wraps up, everyone moves to the living room.
The conversation at least seems to liven up, and Nash is doing his best to talk with multiple cousins.
Harper is the only one who bothers trying to talk with me.
We end up standing next to the hearth as Kevin and Great Aunt Catherine begin arguing about the best schools.
Harper rolls her eyes and whispers to me, “This is the part where I disappear. It’s my gap year, and they’re convinced I’m going to go to a college of their choice. I’d rather hitchhike across the country than do that.”
She leaves the room, and I find that I don’t care to listen to the family discuss which Ivy League college would be best for Harper.
I duck out of the side door Harper just exited through.
Nash is deep in conversation with James, so I don’t think he’ll miss me. I hurry up the main stairs and find my way to Alexander’s room.
I knock on the heavy oak door.
The nurse opens it and greets me with a smile.
“Hi,” I whisper. “I don’t want to wake him up, but I was hoping I could say hi if he’s feeling up to it.” As far as I know, he still hasn’t made it downstairs, so I’m not quite sure why he wanted to have the family dinner if he couldn’t be there too.
“Who’s there?” Alexander’s voice rings throughout the room, and Mary casts her eyes heavenward, as though praying for patience.
“It’s Magnolia,” Mary tells him.
“Send her in,” he barks back.
Mary steps aside, and I walk into the room.
“Hello,” I greet him softly.
Despite his booming voice and snapping orders, he looks his age lying on that bed. How are we supposed to tell him the truth? It’s not fair of Nash to want this right now.
“You’re not downstairs drinking my vintage wine with the rest of my family,” he accuses in an amused tone.
I shrug. “I’m not really a wine person. I guess I have no taste.”
He points to the stuffed chair, close to the bed. I sink down into it.
“No taste? Don’t disappoint me now.”
“It’s my best-kept secret. You’re not allowed to tell,” I tease.
A smile flits across his face. “Do you not drink?”
“You’d be so lucky. I do enjoy an occasional glass of whiskey.”
His eyes brighten at that. He leans toward me. “I’m not supposed to be drinking in my condition, but I have some excellent whiskey. If you sneak it past Mary, we could test it.”
His conspiratorial whisper has me fighting off a smile.
“Listen, Grandpa, I value my life. Mary is scary.”
“Why do you think I’m sacrificing you?”
“How about this? When you’re back on your feet, I’ll bring some of my whiskey—which I guarantee is better than yours—and we’ll drink it together.”
His eyes narrow for one second before he starts to climb out of bed.
“What are you doing?” I whisper frantically.
“Getting healthy enough for a glass of whiskey.”
“You’re supposed to be resting, not drinking whiskey.” I cut my hand through the air. “Are you trying to get me into trouble?”
I point at Mary, who’s in the far corner of the room, reading her book. Luckily, the bedroom is the size of my apartment, so she can’t hear us when we whisper.
With a reluctant sigh, he leans back against the pillows. “Besides your dislike of wine, why else are you up here?”
“I came to make sure you were still healthy and kicking.”
“Oh, are some of the leeches downstairs wanting to dance on my grave?”
I’m taken aback that he knows everyone’s intentions, but my surprise is only momentary. Alexander is not ignorant, and even in the moment when we thought he would pass away, he seemed as sharp as ever. I doubt much sneaks by him.
“Let’s just say, there was a debate between marble and polished wood for the casket.”
He rests his hands on his stomach. “You realize that if I die, Nash gets the majority.”
I snort. “If you think that’s what he wants, you don’t know your grandson very well.”
He harrumphs. “And you think you do, Miss Magnolia, heh? Why don’t you tell me what he wants, then?”
I fold my arms across my chest and do my best to match his scowl. “After you made it through the night on that day I met you, he showed up at my apartment at an ungodly hour and spun me around so fast that I ended up with a case of vertigo. He was over the moon that you’d pulled through.”
He clears his throat and ignores my statement. “Do you know what? I think you’re good for my grandson. He smiles more with you than I’ve ever seen. But how do I know you’re not with him because you think he’ll inherit everything from me?”
Besides the fact that I’m not actually marrying him? “If I were after his five-dollar inheritance, I’d tell him. I like to be upfront about things.”
Alexander laughs.
“Listen, when we get married, we’ll sign a prenup.” Alexander deserves to have peace of mind—even if we’re not actually getting married.
He nods slowly, but I continue before he can speak. “If you think I’m risking my whiskey collection for love”—I click my tongue—“that’s just naive.”
Alexander bursts out in a loud laugh that brings Mary to her feet.
“I like you, Magnolia. You and I will get along just fine. And like I said, you’ll be good for Nash as well.”
“What will be good for me?” Nash’s rumble fills the room.
I jump at the sound and turn to stare as Nash walks in the room. He has an amused smile on his face, and his eyes are dancing. I quickly turn away because it would be awkward to be caught gawking.
“Maybe a swift kick in the pants,” I mutter quietly in response to his question.
I feel a warm hand on the back of my neck, sending a spark shooting through my body.
“What was that, sweetie pie?”
I turn to look at him. His hand shifts but stays on me, sliding to rest on my shoulder.
With him so close, I have an overwhelming urge to lean into his touch. But it’s all for show. It’s not real, I have to remind myself. “I was just complaining to your grandfather about all your bad habits.”
“Have you told him how much you enjoy running?” Nash asks with a grin.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Watch it.”
The twinkle in his eye must be catching, because when I turn around, Alexander is wearing it too.
“I’m glad to see you’re not a doormat. Or a suck-up.” Alexander says as he smiles warmly, and all I can think is that I’m lying to this poor sweet man.
“She’s definitely not that.” Nash chuckles.
“We need a party. An engagement party,” Alexander announces abruptly.
“That won’t be—” Nash starts to say, but I cut him off.
“First things first. We’re not doing anything until you’re physically able to join the shouting match downstairs,” I butt in.
“What if I’m never ready for that?”
“Then I’d say you have a strong sense of self-preservation,” Nash mumbles under his breath.
I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing. Nash’s fingers flex against my shoulder, as though he can feel my response.
“Fine. We’ll have an engagement party,” I say to appease them both. “And we’ll sign a prenup too.”
“Prenup?” Nash asks sharply.
I pat his hand, knowing that Alexander is watching our every move. “Don’t worry, honey. I know you love me for more than just my secret whiskey recipes.”
He looks adorably confused, and I realize he doesn’t know about my obsession with a good whiskey. We’ve been so busy talking about his family that I didn’t say anything about what I’m going to do for a career.
“We do have to be practical about this…” he teases softly.
“Back in my day, you loved someone, or you didn’t. Marrying them wasn’t with divorce in mind. I never signed a prenup with your grandmother!” Alexander says.
“And how did that turn out?” I ask.
Alexander grins. “She ran the show, of course.” His face grows serious, and he points a finger at Nash. “Remember what happened when I tried to force that prenup on your father? It was a horrible judgment error. It was very hypocritical of me.”
My head is on a swivel as I try to catch both of their facial expressions.
I turn and stare at my fiancé. I’m surprised to find him already studying me. His eyes are locked onto mine, and something there gives me butterflies. This is not good. Someone’s micro expressions shouldn’t have the power to make your heart skip a beat.
“When you know, you know,” Nash says quietly. My heart skips a beat at those simple words.
A loud yawn catches my attention, and I tear my gaze from Nash’s. Alexander is leaning his head back and closing his eyes. I’m glad we didn’t tell him the truth tonight. He’s in no way strong enough to handle it. I tilt my head toward the door, hoping to get the hint across to Nash.
He smirks.
“Are you ready to go home?” He holds out a hand to me.
I place my hand in his, cursing myself for how natural it feels.
I’m in deep trouble.