Page 113 of Mark my Words

By the time cake was served and Nana was called away to blow out her candles, Sam had spent half the night chatting with Nana and Pietro, easily keeping the conversation flowing.

“She’s not so bad,” Sam whispered as I leaned against his chest. We’d successfully avoided the rest of my immediate family, my mother steering clear because she and Nana only tolerated the other’s presence in small doses.

“She’s the only normal one in the family,” I whispered back, still in awe of how she’d been casually dismissing the lingerers of my parents’ social circle with grace and her sharp wit. They’d tried to work their way into our little group a few times, but she’d quickly driven them off with a few well-placed, thinly-veiled remarks on their character—or lack thereof.

I envied the subtle way she could put people in their place. My methods were a stark contrast, and I envied that my grandmother had never been called an ice queen. She’d made the most of her life, handling her situation gracefully, and I could only hope for half her character.

“This hasn’t been as horrible as you’d worked it up to be.” Sam’s palm was running down my arm as we avoided the crowd, but my hackles rose as I looked toward the kitchen.

“Well, strap on your cup, Langley, because we’ve got an incoming.”

It appeared that my mother had sobered up enough to confront me now that Nana was distracted, and my leech of a brother was hot on her teetering designer heels.

SAM

NEW YORK

“Oh darling, I’m glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to see your family. It’s been quite some time. I was starting to think you’d forgotten where we lived.”

Kristine’s grip on my hand tightened as a slight woman, a full head shorter than her, despite the towering heels, stopped in front of where we were standing. She must have been the notorious Missy Willard, the woman Kristine rarely mentioned and usually only with disdain.

“Sam,” Gregory greeted, holding his hand out in my direction, his gaze dropping to where his sister’s hand was tucked inside my own. “I was wondering if you were the guest Kristine told Nana she was bringing along tonight. She seemed to think it was a boyfriend, but I knew she’d never bother to bring someone she was interested in romantically to a family gathering. That would entail her realizing she had a heart.”

My hand clenched. Kristine’s quick intake of breath at her brother’s words caused my temper to flare.

“She did bring a boyfriend,” I smiled, dropping my hand and pulling her into my side. It wasn’t technically the truth, but my desire to get that self-satisfied smirk off his smug face was stronger than my need to define my relationship with his sister.

“Oh,” he laughed, tipping his glass to his lips. “Did he step out for a moment?”

“Greg. Quit being a dick,” Kristine sighed, reaching up to finger the button on my suit coat. “Sam is my date for the evening.”

“You don’t need to pretend,” Gregory laughed. “It’s insulting to your beard here to use him as a prop to distract our parents. Even Mother knows not to try to set you up after last time.”

“Well,” Missy smiled, “Trevor asked about you earlier. He’s still single, and I’m sure he’d forgive your behavior from the last time you were in town.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Kristine growled, her hand clenching into a fist. “I am not dating another of your friends’ horrible offspring, no matter their bank account balance. I have no interest in being a desperate trophy wife grasping at straws to keep their husband’s interest to remain flush with cash like someone I know.”

“Honey,” she smiled, her face eerily devoid of emotion. “I know you think this office romance is exciting, but trust me, they never last.”

“Oh,” Kristine scoffed, shooting daggers at the woman across from her. “You mean like the one you had with Mason?”

“My relationship with your father is different,” she started, lowering her voice and leaning toward Kristine. “We came to a mutually beneficial arrangement a long time ago, and maybe it’d be in your best interests to look for something similar. Us Willard women just aren’t built for all that romance nonsense.”

“I’m nothing like you, and you married into the Willard name,” Kristine hissed. “Don’t pretend you know anything about giving a shit about people. Well, not beyond what they can give you. You couldn’t even be bothered to raise your own children. They were just another way for you to secure your future.”

“Krissy, I think you’ve had enough,” Gregory frowned at the glass in her hand. It was full of water. Kristine had warned me earlier about keeping a clear head around her family, but it was apparent that didn’t matter.

“Or maybe I haven’t had enough,” she laughed, tipping back the last of her water and leaning around me to deposit the glass on an empty table. “Sam and I came here tonight to celebrate Nana’s birthday, not deal with you egotistical jerks. You want to know why I don’t come home? Because I haven’t felt welcome here my entire life. Nothing I do is good enough for you. And maybe staying in Boston, where people give a shit about me, is easier than coming here to be criticized or passed around like I’m some broodmare. I have a life, love my job, and don’t come back here because I didn’t choose to be related to you.”

Her mother and Gregory shifted nervously, opening their mouths to talk, but Kristine held her hand up, indicating she wasn’t done. “Sam came here despite my hesitations tonight because he cares about me.” She paused, looking up at me and shaking her head. “And I care for him—a lot—even though I treated him like shit for months because no one in my life has shown me what a healthy relationship looks like.”

“Keep your voice down,” Missy sniffed, glancing around at the people who’d stopped talking around us.

“No.” Kristine grabbed my hand, stepping back toward the entryway. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m not shrinking myself to please you any longer. I came to spend time with Nana, and now that I have, we’re leaving. You terrible people don’t get the privilege of knowing Sam. I’d choose him over you any time because he’s a billion times more interesting than most people in this room. I’d pick him every time.”

Her mother stood there with wide eyes, her mouth slack. Gregory didn’t look much better, but I could tell he was holding back as his hands clenched at his sides.

I felt like yelling Mic Drop over our shoulders as Kristine grabbed my hand and dragged me back toward the private elevator in the ornate foyer.

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