26. Maeve
MAEVE
Lydia leads me into the kitchen, which feels even more spacious without the chef and his assistants bustling around.
There’s no reason to make dinner when we’re eating at someone else’s house tonight, but I’m sure they’ll be back tomorrow or have prepped food that’s easily reheated for the next couple of days.
“When you said that you were into cooking, I just knew I needed your help,” Lydia tells me happily. “Mom refuses store-bought cookies during the holidays, you know, and we could’ve just had the chef make them, but I think making them yourself is part of what makes the holidays special.”
“I completely agree,” I grin. “It’s about the journey. Making them is half the fun, not just having them.”
“I knew you’d see it that way. So…” Lydia gestures at the expansive kitchen around us. “We should have everything you need. Instruct me. I am your willing apprentice.”
I laugh. Lydia’s just such a delight. It’s lovely to be around someone who’s a bit younger than I am, so free and unburdened, just enjoying life. I haven’t had much time for simple fun, ever.
Although my body is still buzzing from what happened with Gabriel and then with Ford, Lydia’s presence and the prospect of baking with quality ingredients helps me put everything else out of my mind for a little while.
Baking, even more than cooking, has always been meditative for me.
With cooking I improvise a lot, but baking requires me to follow recipes precisely.
Kneading dough helps me feel centered and calm.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and survey the well-stocked pantry. “Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”
I immediately think of three recipes. Sugar cookies we can cut into various shapes and ice to look like snowflakes and Christmas trees, gingerbread cookies, and chocolate raspberry cookies with white chocolate chips, for people who want something more sophisticated and complex in flavor.
Lydia proves to be an eager assistant, happy to help and surprisingly good at taking instruction.
Between the two of us, I know we’ll be able to get these cookies whipped up and baked in a couple of hours, which will give us just enough time to let them cool and decorate the sugar cookies before we wrap them up and take them to dinner.
I can’t keep the smile off my face as I actually get to bake with proper ingredients in this big, beautiful kitchen.
I could cry with how happy it makes me. I know that this won’t last forever.
Even when this whole arrangement finishes and I get paid, I won’t have a gorgeous kitchen like this one for a while. I need to savor this while I can.
“You know,” Lydia says as we mix the cookie dough, “I think it’s cute the way you and Ford can’t seem to get enough of each other. Although it’s kind of strange to see my brother acting like this. Is he… you know…”
“Please don’t ask me for details about your brother’s sex life,” I groan—not that I could, even if I wanted to.
“Oh, god, no, please.” Lydia shakes her head and makes a disgusted face. “I was just going to ask if he’s always this sweet with you. It’s nice to see that he’s so into someone. After everything that happened, we worried he wouldn’t ever find anybody.”
My stomach tightens. I know this whole thing was Ford’s idea, but I truly feel like the worst kind of person for deceiving Lydia and her parents this way. They’re going to be so hurt when Ford and I inevitably ‘break things off.’
I wish I could tell myself that if I’d known about Ford’s tragic past, and about how happy his family would be about him finding someone, I would’ve said no to his proposition.
But to be honest… I need this money badly, and he’s offering me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of.
I hate lying to his family though, and I feel genuinely sick over it.
Lydia must see something on my face, because her expression softens. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. If you’re private about personal stuff, that’s totally your choice. It’s nobody’s business what you do behind closed doors, you know?”
“You’re very sweet,” I tell her honestly, because she truly is. I scramble for something to say that isn’t a complete lie—and I remember the lightbulbs and how furious Ford was that Liam wouldn’t even have noticed my vision issues. “Ford is very… attentive,” I settle on.
Lydia laughs and my face heats up again. “Okay, that is plenty of detail for me.”
“Are you sure?” I tease her, safe in the knowledge that she won’t actually press me for more information. “I can tell you all kinds of things…”
“Oh, gross, no.” Lydia laughs harder. “Absolutely not!”
We get the dry and wet ingredients mixed for the various doughs, then scoop them out to get them baked. “So, you got me alone,” Lydia says. “Feel free to pump me for information any time.”
“Oh, so fair’s fair?”
“Sure, if you want to call it that. But maybe I’m just excited to share embarrassing stories from Ford’s misspent youth.” Lydia winks at me.
“I can’t imagine Ford ‘misspending’ anything,” I admit with a chuckle.
“Oh, he was always very focused on what he wanted to do when he grew up and who he wanted to become. I admired him so much for that clarity. But don’t worry, I still have plenty of embarrassing stories.”
Lydia launches into them as I help press out the shapes for the sugar cookies and get them onto baking sheets. My fingers are shaking with laughter. What surprises me as she talks is that I didn’t realize Ford met Gabriel and Hayden when they were so young.
“They were only teenagers when they met?” I ask. “I didn’t know that.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t,” Lydia admits.
We load the cookies into the oven.
“All three of them are incredibly private,” I admit. “It feels like pulling teeth sometimes to get personal information out of them.”
“Oh, man, I can imagine. But that’s why I view Hayden and Gabriel like older brothers to me, too. They’ve always been around, and with the age difference, it really does feel like they’ve been in my life since the beginning.”
“I love that,” I tell her honestly. I’ve wondered sometimes if having an older sibling would have made my life turn out differently—to have someone else who could have my back and support me. To have three men who are so reliable and protective, there for you… that would have been incredible.
Not that I want Hayden, Ford, and Gabriel to be like brothers to me. Far from it.
Honestly, hearing how close they all were, and how they could be so relaxed in casual settings, not just as business partners, has me wondering… they seemed to team up so often on pranks and adventures…
What other things could they team up on…
Stop it, I tell myself sternly, slapping that thought away. It’s ridiculous and will never happen. There’s no point thinking about it. All it would do is embarrass and distract me, and the last thing I need right now is even more confusion.
“I didn’t realize that the three of them were so interconnected,” I note. “I mean—I knew that they were business partners, but it’s another thing entirely to hear about them just goofing off and being teenagers together.”
“I know, they’re so private and they try so hard to be intimidating.
” Lydia laughs with the confidence of a younger sibling who feels entirely safe around her older brothers, knowing that the rest of the world might find them scary, but not her.
“I know Dad didn’t like Hayden and Gabriel being around so much. ”
“Oh?” I had picked up on the fact that Mr. Kingsley doesn’t seem to be proud of Ford the way his wife is. He’s been very quiet, and has barely said two words to me.
But now that I think about it, he’s barely spoken to Hayden or Gabriel, either.
Lydia nods. “He thinks that they were a bad influence on Ford, and convinced him to take the path that he has. But between you and me—I really admire Ford for striking out on his own like he did. I want to do the same thing.” She grimaces. “Although I’m not sure mine will make as much money.”
“What do you want to do?” The cookies are in the oven, so we start cleaning up.
“I’m in school for fine art,” Lydia admits.
“I’m also getting a marketing degree, but that’s just to help Dad feel better about it.
I, um, told him that I’m taking graphic design, not fine art, so he thinks that I’ll go into advertising design or something.
It’s not his favorite but at least it’s steady work, and you can open up an advertising firm when you get good enough. ”
“But that’s not what you want,” I guess.
“Nope. I want to make art for a living. There are so many amazing mediums out there. Silk flowers, three-dimensional pieces you can peer into, cut glass, large installations… I’ve been experimenting with performance art on campus and it’s been incredible.”
“I love that,” I tell her. “I’m not artistic at all, but I think that’s really fantastic. You should pursue it.”
“I’m lucky I have the trust fund. It’s paying for my school, and if I don’t overspend, I can live off it for a while,” Lydia says. “Dad can’t touch it. I would love to use it to fund my own projects. But I know he won’t approve.”
“I’m just glad money isn’t a concern for you.”
“I know, I’m really lucky that way. I’ve been considering talking to our financial manager to see if I can use some of it to establish an artist collective and help fund other artists and projects who might not be able to afford it otherwise.”
“That’s an amazing idea!”
I love how full of energy and possibility Lydia is, how the world is wide-open before her, her future bright and exciting. I remember when my future had felt like that. Once this whole thing is over and I get Ford’s payment, maybe I can feel that way again.
“How do you plan to handle your dad?” I ask cautiously.