15. Maeve
MAEVE
An instinctive panic rises up inside of me as Ford, Hayden, and Gabriel leave the room. They move as one, a seamless unit of power and ambition, leaving a vacuum in their wake. They’re using one of the many other rooms as a sort of office home base while they’re here, apparently.
I know that there’s nothing for me to do, even if I joined them as their assistant.
I’d just be sitting there. But I can’t help but wish that I could do something.
Being left alone with Ford’s family has my stomach in knots.
My three bosses might be complicated and demanding, but they are a known quantity.
They are my anchor in this world of inherited riches and effortless glamour, a world where I decidedly do not fit in.
At least I successfully lied about Ford’s proposal.
I was so busy with all the work in the office leading up to everyone taking time off for the holidays and going on this trip that I didn’t even think to ask him to hammer out a fake story for our relationship.
Ford took care of the ring, he takes care of everything.
I guess I just thought that he’d take care of this, too.
I can’t help but think about what it would’ve been like for Ford to actually propose to me. I think he still would’ve kept it private, even if he went with a romantic gesture like the flowers I made up. He’s a man who likes to keep things close to the chest.
And if the image in my head of Ford down on one knee surrounded by flowers, earnestly asking me to marry him for real, does strange things to my body… well, nobody has to know that. It’s just a silly momentary fantasy. Everybody has those.
The three men leave and I see Liam standing in the doorway. He’s leaning against it, trying to look debonair. It’s so funny, how that used to make my heart flutter, and now I feel nothing. He’s just some guy, standing there, watching me.
I’m actually surprised that he’s doing that. He’s paying more attention to me now than he ever did when we were dating.
Liam looks for a second like he might speak, actually, and I brace for some kind of jab, but then Lydia takes my hand.
“You must be starving,” she says. “Come on, let’s get you a snack so you don’t pass out from hunger before dinner.”
“Well, you know me, I can always eat.” I let her lead me through the various rooms to the massive kitchen.
I can feel my eyes go wide as I enter. Oh, this room is gorgeous. It’s bigger than my entire apartment, with loads of beautiful counter space, a prep station, state-of-the-art appliances, a huge fridge, a walk-in wine closet and a pantry… I almost want to start drooling.
What I wouldn’t give to have a kitchen like this. I would be having people over every night to entertain them and cook meals.
There’s a chef with a couple of assistants cooking, the three of them moving around the space comfortably in concert, a well-oiled machine. “Lydia,” the man admonishes as Lydia tugs me past them to the fridge and pantry. “What do you think you’re doing in here?”
“Spoiling my appetite, like always!” Lydia says playfully.
The chef shakes his head. “She’s been doing this since she was a girl. That and trying to eat the cookie dough and dessert batter!”
“I can still do that, you know.” Lydia opens the fridge. “Life is short and cookie dough is forever.”
“Life can get even shorter if you give yourself salmonella,” the chef points out.
“Worth it,” Lydia insists, still smiling.
It’s comfortable, and I love that they’ve had the same people cooking for them since Lydia and Ford were kids. The fridge is incredibly well stocked, and so is the pantry. Lydia starts digging in to get stuff for us, but I find myself drawn to what the chef and his two assistants are doing.
“Very classical French,” I note, watching him sear the duck.
“Yes.” He sounds surprised that I know the different regional cooking styles. “Mrs. Kingsley likes to be very traditional around the holidays. We’ll be doing French tonight. And she’s already picked out the menus for the big holiday dinners.”
“She must be a demanding employer.”
“She is, but we work well together.” The chef winks at me.
I watch as he butters a pan. “Wouldn’t be French if they didn’t add a lot of butter and cream.”
He laughs. “Indeed.”
“Are you going to use the au jus for anything?”
“I’ll add it to the mashed potatoes. It gives them a wonderful depth of flavor and marries them better with the meat.” He eyes me. “You know a bit about cooking.”
I shrug, my face heating up. “I’m kind of an amateur enthusiast.”
“Well, it’s always good to have someone around who appreciates our hard work.”
“Just what are you implying?” Lydia says, popping her head out of the fridge, her arms full.
“Nothing at all, Miss Lydia.”
Lydia gives him a mock glare and then tilts her head at me. “C’mon, we’ll sit in the breakfast nook. If we sit at the dining room table after Mother’s gotten it all decorated, she’ll have a fit.”
The breakfast nook is a cheerful little area, with white-painted seating benches that have thick, comfy gingham cushions. The table itself is round and also painted white, and has plenty of room for Lydia to put down our goodies.
I try not to moan in appreciation as I bite down into high-quality crackers and cheese and cured meats.
There are strips of Iberico ham imported from Spain, and they melt in my mouth.
I have to keep myself from stuffing my face with it like a chipmunk.
I haven’t been able to afford such fine food in ages.
I do the best I can with my baking for the office during the holidays, although I’m still buying generic grocery store butter and basic all-purpose flour, those sorts of things, but for myself for the rest of the time I’m just spending as little money as I possibly can. Which means a lot of ramen.
This—this is fantastic. “Your chef knows how to shop.”
“I think he’s eavesdropping,” Lydia says, giggling. “I’m sure the whole kitchen team appreciates having someone who really knows her stuff and can truly appreciate what they buy and cook.”
“Well, I’m glad.” I’d hate for people to think I was weird, instead. Sometimes people do get like that about my love of food, especially since I’m not some petite stick figure. “And thank you, by the way, for being so kind and opening your home up to me. I’m sure this was all a shock.”
“It was a bit of a surprise. I mean, you were engaged to my other brother, and now you’re engaged to this one.” Lydia leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “I think Mom is freaking out a bit, honestly.”
Shit.
“But it was always obvious to us you were never a gold digger. I know that’s something our parents have always worried about.
All the parents around us worried, you know, growing up.
They were rich and knew their kids would be rich and so there’s that fear, I think, that they’ll be blinded by someone pretty like you who only cares about the money and not about them. ”
I’m surprised at Lydia calling me pretty, but I suppose she’s just being nice. I am engaged to her brother, after all, so presumably her brother thinks I’m good-looking.
“I understand that. I think every parent wants to make sure that their kids marry someone who’s good for them.”
“And I think I speak for all of us when I say how relieved I am that Ford’s finally found someone,” Lydia replies. “Let’s be honest, here, Liam can find anyone, he’s charming that way—well, you know how he is—but Ford, I think we were all starting to despair.”
“Ford can get anyone he wants, too,” I say, feeling a bit defensive of him.
It’s not like Liam is this big catch and Ford is some boring, awkward loner.
He’s handsome, successful, and commanding.
He may not be charming in the same way Gabriel is, but I’ve seen a ton of women swoon over him, and I don’t blame them.
His cool confidence is just as attractive in its own way as Gabriel’s easy flirtation.
“Oh, no, I don’t mean that. I meant after Brooke.”
Something twists in my chest uncomfortably. “Right,” I say slowly. “After Brooke.”
Who is Brooke? Is she someone who broke Ford’s heart?
It’s hard to imagine Ford getting his heart broken by anyone. More the other way around, I would think. But I can’t act like I don’t know what’s going on. I’m Ford’s fiancée, I’d have to already know about things like past girlfriends.
“How was he on the plane flight?” Lydia asks. “I know he says he’s fine, but I also know it reminds him of her.”
“He let me hold his hand,” I say, diplomatically. “I didn’t think he would, you know how stubborn he is.”
“Yes, he can’t let anyone ever see he’s not in control. That’s really good that he let you do that. I’m sure it’s hard, being there for someone who doesn’t want people to be there for them, but if he got all the way to proposing to you, it’s because he really trusts you.”
That is one consolation, that Ford does trust me, even if it’s not in the way that Lydia thinks.
He trusts me to help run his life, to know his calendar, to see his business contracts.
And he’s trusting me with this secret, this plan, to help him secure a massive business deal. I don’t take that lightly.
“Thank you,” I say. “I really hope he does. I hope I’m worthy of that trust.”
“We just worried after her… before the plane crash, I’ll be honest with you, none of us thought Brooke was the love of Ford’s life.
I mean, I liked her. You couldn’t help but like Brooke.
But I guess I never saw that spark between them.
Nothing that would make me think they’d last forever.
” Lydia shakes her head. “But he hasn’t been with anyone since her death, so maybe I was wrong and she meant more to him than I thought.
They were both so young, you know? Anyway…
” She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly.
“I think it’s so, so great that he’s found you. ”