30. Maeve
MAEVE
We all take a few cars over and pull up in front of another house that looks just as grand as Ford’s childhood home. It’s a bit more imposing, though, and I’m not sure I like all the design choices—everything feels a little too showy, a little too eager to impress.
When I mention this to Ford, he chuckles. “Mom will love that you think that—be sure to tell her. Just not at the party, or she’ll announce it to the entire family.”
“She really does have some kind of rivalry going on?”
“Mom’s got ongoing feuds with half the town. It keeps her entertained. It’s all lighthearted, though.”
We park and get out, and Ford’s hand lands on the small of my back, guiding me up the front steps and inside with possessive confidence.
There’s a uniformed servant who takes our winter coats to hang in what I assume is a coat closet, and someone else checks our names against a guest list at the door.
Servers weave through the rooms with silver trays covered in elegant hors d’oeuvres, and there’s live piano music drifting from somewhere deeper in the house.
Wow. This is already the fanciest party I’ve ever attended, and I’ve only gotten my first glimpse.
“Ah, Elaine! Charles!” A woman I don’t recognize with a slight British accent sweeps up to greet Ford’s parents. She and Elaine make a big show of kissing each other on both cheeks and catching up with theatrical enthusiasm.
“Sharon Clairmont,” Ford murmurs in my ear. “Her husband Harry is around here somewhere, probably hiding from all this.”
“Of course darling Geraldine couldn’t make it. She’s so dreadfully busy with that massive deal in Tokyo,” Sharon is saying with affected sympathy.
“How wonderful for her! You must be so proud,” Elaine replies smoothly. “But of course, no matter how busy Ford gets, he always makes time to come home—he has a huge deal in the works right now, but he’s conducting it from here so we can still have proper family time.”
I glance at Ford, who rolls his eyes with practiced resignation. I can see the game of social one-upmanship being played here, and I’m not sure if I want to escape it or if I find it amusing.
“Oh, and who is this lovely creature?” Sharon says after she greets Hayden and Gabriel with familiar warmth. I think it’s sweet that the two men are around enough that everyone knows and associates them with Ford’s family.
Sharon smiles at me expectantly, and I hold out my hand to shake. “I’m Maeve, it’s lovely to meet you. Thank you so much for the invitation.”
“Oh, Maeve! Yes, I remember now—Elaine mentioned you—Liam’s girlfriend, right?”
Before the embarrassment can even begin to set in, Ford’s arm slides around my waist possessively. “Actually, I think some wires got crossed there. Maeve is my fiancée.”
“Oh, silly me! You know how impossible it is to keep track of everyone’s romantic entanglements. Maeve, how wonderful that you could come, and congratulations to you both.”
Sharon takes the correction in stride, and I’m grateful she thinks she simply misunderstood. Hopefully this means there won’t be any awkward questions about my previous relationship with Liam. The last thing I want is to embarrass Ford or his family.
Elaine and Sharon return to their competitive chatting until Charles has to diplomatically pull his wife away before they can start openly feuding about who has the better rose garden, while Ford guides me with Hayden and Gabriel deeper into the party.
“Let’s get some food,” Gabriel suggests.
“Let’s get some alcohol,” Hayden mutters under his breath.
“There are so many people I want you to meet,” Lydia says excitedly, taking my hand. “Come on!”
She tugs me away from the men and into the thick of the party, where she introduces me to what feels like half of Colorado’s social elite. I’m not sure how long it takes—maybe half an hour—but I’m starving by the time I see a server with a tray, so I politely excuse myself to grab some food.
The hors d’oeuvres are incredible, but I find myself mentally taking notes on what could be changed or improved—occupational hazard of loving to cook.
I find a quiet corner near the impressively decorated Christmas tree so I can eat without being rude and scan the room to see if I can spot the men again.
“You really do look incredible tonight.”
I look over to see Liam approaching. “Thank you. I’m so glad Ford likes it.”
I expect him to scowl and walk away after that pointed reminder, but he doesn’t. Instead, he moves closer. “It’s been good having you around again.”
Liam never could take a hint when we were dating, either. “Well, I’m glad it’s not awkward, then. I wouldn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable.”
He chuckles like I’ve said something charmingly naive. “Oh, it’s awkward all right. It always is when you realize how much you’ve missed someone.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” I think I know exactly what he’s getting at, but I’m going to make him say it out loud if he’s really going down this path.
Liam gives me a look that he probably thinks is fondly indulgent and devastatingly attractive.
He used to give me that exact look all the time, and it always made me feel so small, like I was a silly little girl who didn’t understand the world.
The fact that he doesn’t mean to be hurtful softens the blow slightly—he’s not smart enough, or self-aware enough, I’ve realized, to know how condescending he sounds—but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when we were together.
“I made a mistake,” Liam tells me, softening his voice like he’s delivering romantic dialogue. “Letting you go was the worst decision I ever made.”
That’s exactly what I was afraid he’d say. I straighten my spine and lift my chin. “You didn’t let me go, Liam. I left you, remember? After you cheated on me. If you didn’t want me to leave, then you shouldn’t have treated me like garbage. I left then, and I’m leaving now.”
I walk away with my heart racing at my own boldness. I find a server and hand over my drink and empty plate, then quickly scan the room for someone—anyone—to talk to. I’m happy to make conversation with a potted plant as long as it’s not Liam. I refuse to let him corner me again.
My stomach is twisted in knots. How on earth could he think that approach would work?
How could he say something like that? Even if I had the complete lack of self-respect to be flattered, I’m supposedly with his brother.
It’s disgraceful. I wish I had an excuse to punch him in the face, although I suspect that would only make everything worse.
There are a few people Lydia introduced me to standing by the piano where the hired musician is playing something classical, and I seize the opportunity. I slip over to them and start listening to their conversation, then jump in with a comment when it feels appropriate.
Luckily they’re discussing art, and while I don’t know much about it, I can at least share my appreciation and ask intelligent questions.
One of the guys—I think his name is Robert—seems happy to answer my questions and show off his knowledge. I glance around periodically, but thankfully, Liam is nowhere to be seen.
“There’s actually a really impressive art collection here in the house,” Robert says, puffing up with self-importance. “I could show you around if you’d like. Give you the proper tour.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely.” I’ve got nothing better to do, and it’ll get me even further away from Liam.
Robert leads me from the main room down a hallway to a quieter wing of the house. “Are you sure we’re allowed to be back here?” I ask, suddenly uncertain. I don’t want to get in trouble for wandering where we shouldn’t be.
“Oh, it’s perfectly fine. Sharon and Harry won’t mind at all—they’re my cousins, and they’re always thrilled to show off their collection. I’m just doing it for them.” His smile takes on a different quality. “Besides, who wouldn’t jump at the chance to be alone with you?”
I frown at him and pointedly flash my engagement ring. It’s funny—I’m actually used to wearing it now, the weight and feel of it on my finger.
I don’t want to embarrass Robert, but I know Lydia introduced me as her brother’s fiancée. Hopefully the obvious display of my ring will remind him of that and prevent him from saying something else inappropriate.
“What’s this one?” I ask, gesturing at a painting of a pompous-looking man on horseback.
“Oh, you don’t recognize it?” Robert asks with poorly concealed superiority, then launches into what sounds like a rehearsed lecture.
I have to work not to roll my eyes. The man is more than a bit pretentious.
“Of course, he was actually terrified of horses,” Robert continues with obvious relish.
“Horses can sense fear, you know—they know they can’t trust a nervous rider, so they’ll try to throw you off.
This horse bucked him right into the mud during the sitting.
The painting had to be finished with him straddling a sofa, and the artist combined the two images. ”
I can’t help but laugh. The idea of this arrogant-looking man in all his finery being unceremoniously dumped in the mud by a stubborn horse is genuinely funny.
Robert grins and reaches toward my face. “Oh, you’ve got a stray lock of hair…”
I automatically flinch back, already forming words to tell him to keep his hands to himself, when Robert’s wrist is suddenly caught in a grip that makes him yelp.
“Richard.” Hayden’s voice is icy. “I might have known.”
Oh, his name is Richard. Oops .
“How about you keep your grubby little hands to yourself?” he growls, his grip tightening until Richard winces. “Especially when it comes to other people’s fiancées.”
Richard is clearly in pain from the way Hayden is twisting his wrist. “It’s not—I was just?—”
“Touch her again, and I’ll break every finger on both hands,” Hayden snaps. He shoves Richard back hard enough to send him stumbling, then turns and scoops me up, tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Hayden!” I squeak in shock. He’s literally carrying me away like some kind of caveman. I smack him lightly on the back a few times. “Are you insane? People are staring! Put me down!”
“You think I give a damn about any of these people?” He scoffs, his arms tightening possessively around my legs.
“Well, you’d better care what I think! Put me down right now!”
“Relax, Keller.” Hayden strides quickly down a hallway, then turns into what appears to be a small study and sets me on my feet, closing the door behind us. “There. Are you happy?”
I blink at him in stunned silence for a heartbeat, then shake my head, my lips pressing into a hard line as I glare at him with all the fury I can muster.
“Oh, you’re about to find out just how un happy I am.”