39. Maeve #2
“Okay,” Ford says when they’re finished, and both men set several glasses down in front of me.
I can tell some are from different bottles—slight variations in the amber color give it away.
But most look identical to my untrained eye, and I can’t distinguish which might be more expensive based on color alone. “Try them all.”
I sample each drink in turn. I have to admit that all of them go down much more smoothly than any whiskey I’ve ever had before, although whiskey isn’t typically my drink of choice. I usually stick to cocktails or simple mixed drinks.
“Take your time and really savor it,” Hayden instructs. “Let it coat your tongue, then let it glide down your throat.”
It burns sweetly as it goes down, but in a pleasant way.
To my surprise, I can actually taste differences between the samples—there’s a richer, more complex layer of flavor to some of them, while others have a sharper burn.
It sounds crazy to say, but some of the glasses really do taste more well-rounded and balanced.
When I share this observation out loud, Ford grins with obvious pride. “Exactly right. Which one do you think is the thirty-year?”
I frown down at the glasses, concentrating. I take a couple more small sips to refresh my memory of each one, then confidently tap one glass. “This one.”
“Excellent,” Hayden praises, and I flush with pleasure at his genuinely enthusiastic tone.
“It had the best depth of flavor,” I explain.
“That’s the key to understanding good alcohol,” Gabriel says approvingly. “Whether it’s wine or whiskey or something else entirely. Unless you’re making a mixed drink, when you’re drinking straight alcohol, it’s all about the aging process. The length of time and how it’s handled during that time.”
We finish the whiskey the men poured, sharing the samples since drinking all of it myself would definitely leave me drunk. These drinks aren’t just smoother—they’re also incredibly potent. Another benefit of quality alcohol, I suppose.
That’s the problem with so many things in life. If you want real quality, you need money to pay for it, and I haven’t been able to afford much quality in my life.
“I hope you at least know something about wine,” Gabriel teases as we settle back in the living room with our drinks, “considering how much you enjoy cooking.”
“Oh, I do know a bit about wine. I should really learn more about other types of alcohol, but they don’t typically cover that in cooking education. Wine’s the only one people really discuss in relation to food.”
“Well, feel free to ask Hayden anything you want to know,” Ford says with a gesture toward his friend. “He’s incredibly knowledgeable about spirits.”
“It feels like all three of you know so much about everything,” I observe.
“Hey now, I don’t know much about cooking,” Ford points out fairly.
“And yet you have such strong opinions about food…”
“It’s one thing to know what quality tastes like and what’s good,” he says with a self-deprecating smile. “It’s completely different to actually know how to make it yourself.”
That’s a very fair point, and it gets me thinking. I know a lot about running their business since I’ve been the assistant to these three men who built it from nothing. Or I was, anyway, before I quit. But that doesn’t mean I would actually make a good CEO myself.
I voice this thought and Hayden chuckles.
“Frankly, I think you’d make a better CEO than most people in those positions.
And Ford, as much as I respect you, I think you’d agree that’s true of a lot of executive assistants.
They’re the ones helping the people in charge day in and day out, seeing everything up close and personal.
But they’re never the ones who get promoted to leadership roles. ”
“Is this your way of saying you want to promote me?” I tease with a grin. “Because thanks, but I already quit, remember?”
All three men chuckle, and we finish our drinks before heading to the kitchen to wash the glasses. “Seriously though,” I add as we clean up, “it’s refreshing that you guys notice and appreciate that kind of thing. Most executives don’t.”
“Most executives don’t work their way up from the bottom,” Hayden says, his tone turning slightly bitter as he dries the crystal glasses with care.
“They get their MBA and then either start a company with money from investors—often family members or family friends—or they land prestigious internships during college where they think they’re doing real work and earning their place, but really they’re just being groomed for executive positions.
Then they get hired as department managers straight out of school, and it’s an easy climb from there. ”
“That’s not the path you three took,” I guess.
Ford shakes his head. “Gabriel and I had access to family money, which was helpful for starting the company. But we thought it would be crucial to get real, hands-on experience first.”
“We knew exactly what we wanted to build from the time we were fourteen,” Gabriel adds. “So we started working our asses off to learn every aspect of business.”
“How did your father react to that decision?” I ask Ford, unable to suppress my curiosity.
“Not well,” Ford says with a rueful smile. “Hayden and Gabriel were thrilled to have an excuse to get away from their home situations, and honestly, no one really cared what they did.”
Gabriel mutters something sharp in French under his breath.
“But my father never wanted me striking out on my own like that,” Ford continues. “He still doesn’t approve, really.”
“Ford never let family pressure stop him though,” Hayden says with obvious pride, like a protective brother. “He was just as determined as Gabriel and I were. That’s how we knew we could trust him.”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask as we head back to the living room where the Christmas tree glows softly.
“Ford has a good family that genuinely loves him,” Gabriel says quietly. “Even though they’re not perfect—nobody’s family is. But they’re nothing like…” He trails off, then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No, it does matter,” I insist, curling up on one end of the couch. “I want to understand.”
All three men exchange meaningful looks. “I grew up in foster care,” Hayden finally says, speaking slowly. “Gabriel’s family is… a real piece of work. All of them. That’s why we started spending all our time at Ford’s house.”
“I didn’t want them to have to go back to dealing with all that.” Ford’s tone is protective, and it makes my heart squeeze with affection.
“The fit my family threw when they went back to France and I refused to go with them…” Gabriel grins and shakes his head at the memory. “But I was stronger than they were by then.”
“Gabriel’s family split their time between the United States and France,” Ford explains.
“We didn’t know what financial resources we might have access to,” Hayden continues. “We were young, we were determined, and we were hungry for success. And we wanted to understand every single aspect of running a company.”
“We weren’t sure if my dad might cut me off from my trust fund,” Ford adds.
“So you worked your way through every level,” I say, impressed.
No wonder they take care of their employees so well. They actually understand what it’s like to be in those positions.
“You’re no slouch either,” Ford points out.
“Not everyone could handle being the executive assistant to one demanding CEO,” Gabriel agrees. “Let alone three of us.”
“Most CEOs don’t work the way you three do,” I point out. “You work almost like a single unit, and I don’t think most executives share power the way you do.”
“We’re family first.” Hayden lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “That’s why it works.”
I look around at all three of them, taking in their obvious bond. He’s right. They are family, in every way that matters.
And I… god, I really want to be part of a family like theirs .
I shove that thought down before it can take root. I’m not going to ruin this incredible thing I have by hoping for more than what they’re offering. Not when I’m already getting so much more than I ever expected. I refuse to be selfish about this.
I look over at the Christmas tree, trying to distract myself from those dangerous thoughts—but of course that’s exactly the wrong choice.
Because instead, I’m just reminded of how all the colors blur together for me, making the decorations look drab instead of festive.
It’s bright, certainly, and I love the way the lights twinkle like stars.
But I know it’s not the beautiful, vibrant display that others see.
“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asks gently, always so perceptive.
“Nothing at all.” I put on a quick smile, but it feels forced and I can tell they notice. “I was just looking at the tree.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Gabriel agrees, but his amber eyes study me shrewdly. “We did an excellent job decorating it.”
I nod quickly. “Yes, it’s lovely.”
“Don’t lie to us,” Ford says, his tone playfully stern but with an underlying note of genuine concern.
I shrug, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “It is lovely, I’m not lying about that.
It’s just—you know, with my colorblindness.
Sometimes I feel a little left out of things like this.
I feel kind of silly admitting it, since I know it’s not really a big deal, but it’s still something that makes me feel…
different. Like another thing that keeps me on the sidelines of life. ”
“Another thing?” Hayden frowns with obvious concern. “What other things?”
“Well.” My face heats with embarrassment. “My weight, for one thing.”
Hayden shakes his head, his expression fierce. “Your colorblindness, your weight, all of it—everything you think puts you on the sidelines—it’s part of what makes you who you are. And who you are is amazing. Every single part of you.”