Page 166 of Filthy Rich Santas

“What?” I ask as he grins at me silently.

He shrugs, still smiling. “You look good, sis. That west coast air must really agree with you.”

“What?” I repeat, caught completely off guard.

He waves a hand toward me, as if he’s taking in my whole appearance. “You look, I dunno, kind of radiant. Just more relaxed and happy than I’ve seen you in a while. Back me up here guys. Living out in L.A. is good for her, isn’t it?”

I feel a flush creep over my cheeks as Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett all murmur agreement. The weight of their stares makes it clear that they know just as well as I do that it’s not the California sun responsible for all that.

“Thanks,” I murmur, even though I know he’d be having an entirely different reaction if he actually knew what—or rather, who—was responsible for my newfound radiance.

“Oh, I don’t know, Caleb,” my mother puts in, her eyes narrowing a little as she gives me a critical look. “I think Lana looks a bit tired. Are you remembering your sunscreen out there, dear?” She tuts, shaking her head. “It’s not just more freckles you need to worry about. I’m already seeing some fine lines around your eyes. It’s never too early to consider Botox. Thirty will be here before you know it.”

I blink, glancing at Vivian in some misbegotten quest for solidarity, given that she’s the one actually over thirty. I’m only twenty-six, for fuck’s sake. But my sister’s skin is flawless, of course, and she’s busy quietly admonishing Oliver for his manners, not paying attention to the way Mom is nitpicking my appearance.

Caleb’s attention has also moved on, back to something about hockey, and I force a smile, used to these little jabs by now. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mom.”

Thankfully, dinner is just about done, and as we clear the table and start on cleanup, I feel the weight of the day settling on my shoulders.

Vivian gathers up a sleepy Oliver, making her exit with promises to see us all tomorrow for the party preparations. The rest of us migrate to the living room, settling in for some post-dinner conversation, but I can’t quite shake the feeling of emotional heaviness, and find myself not participating so much as just existing on the periphery.

I’m hyper-aware of Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett’s presence. They’re so close, lounging on the couch and laughing with Caleb about old times, but feel impossibly far away. They aren’t ignoring me. If anything, it almost feels like they’re providing a buffer to my fatigue by keeping up the lively conversation. Still, I’d give anything for a moment alone with them even if I’m not sure what I’d say if I got it.

We already had our moment of closure earlier.

It doesn’t matter anyway, since I don’t get the chance, but later, lying in bed in the sterile-feeling guest room, I miss the comforting feel of three warm bodies around me.

I roll onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest. It’s a poor substitute for what I really want, but I suppose I’ll get used to it.

I’ll have to.

38

LANA

The next morning,insistent rapping on my door drags me from a fitful sleep. “Lana, time to get up!” Mom’s voice chirps through the wood, far too chipper for… I squint at the bedside clock and groan as I realize it’s barely seven o’clock.

“Coming,” I call back, my voice still rough with sleep. As I drag myself out of bed, a familiar heaviness settles into my bones. The fatigue is hitting me hard today, but I can’t tell Mom that. Not without bringing up my lupus diagnosis.

I can’t keep it from my parents forever, but I know it will be just one more disappointment to them once I tell them the truth. One more way I’ve failed to be the child they truly wanted. And I just can’t deal with that right now.

Instead, I paste on a smile, get myself ready for the day, then head downstairs, ready to be conscripted into party prep.

“There you are,” Mom says as I enter the kitchen. “I was beginning to think you’d sleep the day away. Now, we need to get started on the hors d’oeuvres. The caterers are handling most of it, of course, but you know I like to add a personal touch.”

“Uh huh,” I answer, just to reassure her that I’m listening. I know she doesn’t actually want or need my input.

Something she proves as we get to it, chattering away in a familiar litany of my siblings’ accomplishments. Today’s version includes an update on Vivian’s latest charity project, praise for Caleb’s recent game-winning goal, and more talk of Kyle working toward becoming a partner at his law firm, complete with a few subtle digs about my own failure to get a promotion yet.

I half tune it out, making small sounds of feigned interest just to satisfy her as I let my thoughts wander, fighting off the exhaustion I’m still feeling.

“Did you hear me, Lana?”

“Sorry, what?” I ask at her sharp tone, dropping a serving spoon with a clatter when she startles me out of my thoughts.

She sighs, giving it a pointed look until I pick it back up. “I said, it’s a shame you couldn’t have arrived earlier. There’s still so much to do before the party.”

I give her a tight smile. “Well, I’m here now. What else can I help with?”

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