Chapter 49
“The Way I Loved You” - Taylor Swift
Maeve
“You’re not nervous, are you?” Preston asks as we walk up the stone path to the entrance of Kenswick House. He has my hand tucked in the crook of his arm and gives it a reassuring pat.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, a little.”
Pulling me to a stop on the sidewalk, he looks down at me with that boyish smile. “You have nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine.” He bends over and drops a kiss on my lips. “I’m great with parents.”
Cocking a brow, I say, “Is that supposed to be comforting? Exactly how many parents have you met?”
His laugh is tinged with embarrassment. “Not that many, but you’re missing the point.”
“And what is the point?”
Preston and I have been together for a year and a half, but it is only now that I’m introducing him to my family.
With Bash finally out of the hospital, it feels like the right time.
And while I’m excited at the prospect of ending my mother’s harassment about me still being single, I’m terrified it will only transition into bullying to get married.
From there, it will be a constant barrage of requests for grandchildren.
I’m not ready for any of that. I’m not sure I’m even ready for this.
“The point is,” Preston says, tugging me close, “that you love me, so they’ll have to, too.”
I take a deep breath and decide to refrain from informing him that my parents haven’t received that memo.
Me loving something seems to have the opposite effect on them.
Not only that, but there’s a prickling sensation at the back of my mind, nagging me.
Is what I feel for Preston love? It’s certainly not the same thing that made my chest ache and tied my stomach in knots when I was with Pierce.
It’s not the butterflies and fireworks they talk about in books and movies.
But while I may not experience the giddiness of love with Preston, it may surprise you to learn that love is a verb, not just a noun. I’m choosing to love him. We’re a great match.
Reaching up, I adjust his collar and tie, then smooth my hands over the front panels of his linen jacket. “Of course they’ll love you,” I say, more for my own sake than his.
While I’m sure my mother will initially be overjoyed to see me with a man—any man—I have a feeling her relief will be short-lived when she realizes who Preston is.
He’s not poor by any means, but his family is firmly upper middle class.
With his political career, he’s made some excellent connections, though.
And besides, with the two of us working together, he’s likely to become prime minister before he’s even forty.
As we climb the steps, both of my parents open the door—something my father never does. It’s possible Bash’s accident changed something in him, but it’s more likely that he’s as curious to see who I’m bringing to dinner as my mother is.
In the most blatantly obvious way possible—seriously, a fire truck would have been more subtle—they scan Preston from head to toe. As a glimmer of recognition lights my mother’s eyes, my stomach sinks. This can’t be good. If she knows him, it can only be because of—
“Aren’t you Janie Ansley’s husband?” she says, loud enough for the neighbors half a mile away to hear.
Preston turns the color of a tomato, and I squeeze his arm. I guess hoping for her forgetfulness to strike tonight was too much of a stretch.
“Ignore her,” I say under my breath. To my mother, I say, “Can we not do this out here?” When she doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at Preston, I add, “Please?”
She brushes her gaze across me as she turns for the house without another word.
“I thought you were bringing Pierce,” my father says, still frowning at Preston. He’s probably scanning his mental Rolodex for the last name Ansley. There’s no way he met Preston at his own house party. The man doesn’t speak to people “beneath” him unless he’s placing a drink order.
Beside me, Preston stiffens. “Pierce?” He casts me a sidelong look.
“It’s a long story,” I mutter, and pull him into the house. “Good to see you too, Dad.”
My father steps aside so we can enter but doesn’t offer his hand to my boyfriend. Nothing too surprising there, though, since he judges every new connection based on what it can do for him, and he’s likely already decided that he doesn’t stand to benefit a thing from the man standing next to me.
As soon as we’re inside, my mother’s hand is on my arm. “We need to talk,” she says.
I give Preston an apologetic look as she pulls me into the dining room, leaving him behind with my father, who will, at the very least, have the good manners to offer him a drink.
“What, Mother?” I say, shaking her hand off as soon as we’re in private. “You’re being incredibly rude.”
She gapes at me like I’ve said something shocking. “I’m being rude? What about you?”
I smash my brows together. “I’ve literally just arrived.”
“You told me you were bringing a guest.”
Blinking as I wait for the punchline, I realize there isn’t one. “Yeah.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I did. My boyfriend.”
Pinching her lips into a flat line, she huffs through her nose. “Last time you brought someone to family dinner, it was Pierce.”
I can’t help the eye roll—it’s too overwhelming. “That was months ago,” I hiss as a server enters with a sushi tower. There are already two of them placed in the center of the table, each holding six layers of rolls. “God, how many people are coming tonight?”
Without bothering to glance at the spread, my mother says, “It’s your brother’s favorite. And don’t think you can distract me from the real reason I pulled you in here.”
Bash may love sushi, but she could have put a box of cereal at his spot and he would have annihilated it.
This is complete overkill, a move she probably played because she thought it would impress my date.
If Pierce were here, he certainly wouldn’t let her efforts go unappreciated, but Preston won’t even know that he’s meant to be impressed.
“And what’s the real reason, Mother? I thought it was to berate my choice of date.”
A flush climbs her neck and settles in her cheeks. “He’s married, Maeve.” Keeping her voice low so the servers don’t overhear, she casts a quick glance around the room before continuing. “Your reputation will never recover from this.”
I allow a laugh I don’t feel to escape my chest. “Does it matter if I love him or he treats me well? Do you even care if I’m happy?”
“Are you?” she asks, a look of sincerity crossing her face—the first one I’ve seen in ages. “Happy?”
Lifting my chin, I don’t drop her gaze. “Blissfully.”
Before she can say anything to that, my father’s voice booms from the doorway. “Let’s eat.”
I turn to look for Preston, and he walks in behind my dad, carrying a tumbler of whiskey and looking relatively unharmed. As I flick a bit of lint from his shoulder, I ask, “Was he nice to you?”
He shrugs and lets that youthful smile cross his face. “I don’t think he’ll be calling me for a round of golf or skeets any time soon, but we got on.”
I search his eyes for any sign that he’s lying to me but don’t find one. Leading him to the table, I realize that Vivienne slipped into the room while we were talking and is already seated. Bash’s spot next to her is empty, but that’s nothing new.
Preston pulls out my chair, then takes the one next to me. I shoot him a look that I hope conveys everything I’m feeling—apprehension, anxiety, nausea—and he returns it with a smile before turning to my father at the head of the table and asking about the stock market.
It’s a wise tactic, even if the execution was a little sloppy, but he’ll figure it out eventually.
At least that’s the reassurance I’m clinging to tonight.
Lifting my wine glass to my lips, I take a sip, meeting my sister’s gaze across the table.
She mirrors the gesture, her eyes giving nothing away, but I’ve known her long enough to be able to read all of her thoughts anyway.
Viv and I have never been close, but since Bash’s accident, we’ve been pulled together by some invisible string. The slight quirk of her lips tells me she’s amused by this situation, but the steadiness of her gaze means she’s also curious about Preston and me.
The dining room doors open, and Sebastian sails into the room wearing a smile the size of a watermelon slice.
The three-inch scar running through his eyebrow is the only reminder of his accident.
He doesn’t have any memories of that night, and I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.
I still don’t have all of the details myself, but I do know that, given how much our father got involved afterward, they’re hiding something.
“Mother.” Sebastian stops to drop a kiss on her head the way he always does, but she stays rigid in her chair, her lips somehow even more pinched as she receives a peck from her favorite child.
“Father.” Bash gives him a mock salute before flopping into his chair next to Vivienne.
“Sisters,” he says, looking between Viv and me before his eyes land on Preston. “And who is this?”
I fill my lungs with air, because it buys me several seconds to keep my exasperation from boiling over. If I have to hear one more disparaging remark about my choice of date, I’m not sticking around.
“This is Preston Ansley,” I say. “My boyfriend.”
Bash whistles and picks up his wine. “A boyfriend. Congrats, Maeve. Didn’t realize you were into the age-gap thing.” He jerks in his seat from what I can only guess was a kick from Vivienne.
My father clears his throat. “Let’s eat.”
I stare daggers at my brother from across the table, but he only smiles back, already planning a million ways to ruin my evening. The devious look in his eyes makes his intentions all too clear.
Bash plucks a piece of sushi from the tower in front of him and pops it into his mouth. He gives Mum a thumbs-up, then turns back to Preston and me. Directing my gaze heavenward, I say a prayer for the restraint necessary to keep from adding a few more scars to his face.
“So, Preston,” Bash says, lifting another roll with his chopsticks. “Do you have any kids? Grandkids?”
I choke on my wine and set my goblet back down before I spill it.
Preston gives me a small pat on the back before turning to Bash with a chuckle. “No, no kids.”
I glare at my brother, but he pretends to be oblivious. I’m beginning to wish he’d stayed in that coma after all.
He woke up twelve days after the accident. I’ll never forget receiving that call. I had just gotten out of the shower, and when Viv told me he was awake, I sank to the floor of the bathroom and sobbed. I’d been terrified he’d never come out of it.
After my tears subsided, I reached for my phone again, a single thought on my mind.
I needed to tell Pierce. He would want to know.
But as my thumb pressed the call symbol next to his name, it all came crashing back—the way I’d left him, finding out he forfeited the challenge, him ignoring all of my calls and texts, realizing he might never speak to me again.
I ended the call before it connected and dressed in a daze.
Only once I was on my way to the hospital did I let Preston and Walker know.
Preston offered to come with me, but I knew that would only lead to questions from my family—questions I was in no position to answer at the moment.
Walker assured me she’d let everyone else know, and from the way she said it, I knew she was including Pierce.
My friends haven’t met Preston yet, at least not as my boyfriend.
They’ve known that we’re seeing each other for the better part of our relationship, and they’ve made their disapproval clear.
But when I remember how we all moved past the drama in Heath and Walker’s relationship, and accepted Slate and Saylor into our group, it gives me hope that they’ll eventually come around.
I can’t handle the thought of any other outcome. I’ve already lost Pierce; I can’t lose them, too.
Glancing sideways, I assess how Preston is faring beneath my brother’s interrogation. He seems to be holding his ground, but I notice that he’s only taken a few bites so far. I wonder if he’s feeling as nauseous as I am.
I reach over and place my hand on his leg, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He smiles at me and rests his own hand on top of mine.
We may not be perfect, but we’re good together. That much is obvious to anyone with eyes in their head, whether my family wants to admit it or not. I may crave their approval, but I don’t need it. I don’t even need my friends’ approval, even though it means the world to me.
I may still struggle with control, but one thing I’ve learned this year is that you can’t control other people’s opinion of you. You can do everything in your power to ensure they think well of you, but at the end of the day, it’s still up to them to make their own judgment.
If my family doesn’t approve of Preston and me together, who cares? I’m a grown-ass woman who can make her own decisions. And as I turn my hand palm up on Preston’s leg, I decide to give up on trying to control what they think about me. All that matters is the two of us.