Page 41 of The Kiss of Deception

“Happy to see you are alive still.” I flash him a joyous smile, fake. “If you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”

I interlace my arm in Miles’s, leading us inside without looking back.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” He might’ve jotted a question mark at the end, but it’s a demand in all its audacity.

“He’s not my friend.” My tone mirrors his entitlement. I learned from the best, after all.

And he’s not supposed to be here, a witness to any of this.

As soon as we’re inside, I maneuver us to a concealed corner. Alone, I accuse, “I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”

“Would you prefer that I left?” he offers promptly, like he cares about my needs.

“Yes. No. That’s not—”

I want to keep things separated, compartmentalize each side of me in its neat drawer. I don’t want him to have access to this part of my life.

Most of all, I don’t want him to witness this. This part in which I feel like an utter failure because that’s what I am in my maternal grandfather’s eyes.

If I don’t meet his expectations, I can only be a disappointment. And that’s what I’ve been ever since I chose to be myself instead of the carrier of his legacy.

I denied following his—and mother’s—footsteps, refusing to go to Harvard and study Law. My mom is an only child, so am I—therefore the legacy Your Honor, Judge Hopkins, also former governor of Massachusetts, worked so hard to build would be lost with me. Before cold bitterness creeped up with age and awareness, I might have understood.

But isn’t he supposed to love his granddaughter more than his legacy?

Miles doesn’t belong on this side of me. But he’s already here. And he’s still holding my hand.

“No. Stay.” I pull him into the large living room.

Although I’m firm in my decision, he senses my reticence.

“Your mother called Toby. When he mentioned me, she suggested I should come too. Surprise!” he whispers with a wince.

“It’s fine. It’s good that you’re here.” I sigh. “I suppose it does contribute to our credibility.”

His feet seem to falter one step just as we round the corner and find my mother—or rather, she finds us.

“Hey, Mom. Happy birthday!” I inject cheer in my voice, perhaps too much.

She hugs me with a smile. “Thank you, darling. It’s good to see you at home.”

“Yes.” I nod, for the lack of a better answer. Pushing to the side, I proceed with the introductions. “This is Miles.”

“I know,” she answers me, but the smile is for him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Happy birthday,” he wishes with a box of Swiss chocolate that I hadn’t noticed.

“Call me Miranda,” Mom instructs in her my word is law tone, making him straighten his back comically. She gives the box a slight shake. “Thank you, and thank you for coming. Come, let’s get settled. Dinner is ready.”

“Sure. I’ll just say hi to Rosario.”

“Of course, darling. She’s excited to see you. I’ll take Miles to the table.”

That effectively shortens my visit to the kitchen. Within minutes, I’ve left the housekeeper who raised me and enter the massive dining room where everyone has taken a seat around the red mahogany table.

At the head of the table, my mother folds her hands with a smile. The opposite side glaringly empty.

With a hand on my waist, I stop beside Grandpa Toby, narrowing my eyes at him. I want to ask about his return to our old favorite place, but not here. I settle on something else that’s been nagging me.

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