Page 118 of Valentine Nook
“Hey, I would never do that,” Miles grumbles, only for the corner of his lip to twitch, “but if she can resist my charms, then at least we know she’s serious about the duke.”
Lando drops his head with a shake. “You’re such a dick.”
I don’t need to look down to know he’s laced our fingers together. When our eyes meet, and he mouths, “Thank you,” my chest feels like it’s cracking open.
For two minutes, no one speaks. The only sounds are the knocking of silverware against china as vegetables are scooped onto plates, people deciding between chicken or beef, and Max hungrily chomping away. I have yet to put anything on myplate, but I’m getting a perverse pleasure in watching everyone eat.
Finally, Clemmie swallows her mouthful and sits back. “I think this is the best roast I’ve ever had.”
“Are you allowed to say that if you’ve cooked it?” I ask.
“Yes, I think so.” She picks up her wine and turns to her nephew. “Maxy, what do you think?”
“I love it.” He’s taking another scoopful of potatoes, which has Hendricks shaking his head in dismay and moving the rest from his reach.
“Hey, Maxy, yours is the only vote I’m looking for.” I laugh.
“It’s the only one that ever counts,” Lando adds, turning to me with a wink.
Miles pats his stomach. “How have I only just discovered I have a neighbor who cooks like this, and she’s leaving?”
I pick up my wine, ignoring the lead weight I feel inside me. “It was Clemmie really, but I made the pie for later.”
“Where are you going?” Max asks.
I smile at him, taking comfort in Lando’s hand resting on my thigh. “Back to America, where my home is.”
Although now I’m not quite sure that’s true.
His little face scrunches up, and he leans forward. “But how will you kiss Uncle Lando in America?”
Lando splutters next to me, and I pray my cheeks are already rosy enough from cooking for anyone to see me blushing. Everyone else is openly laughing.
“A question we all want to know the answer to, Maxy.” Alex snickers.
“Al . . .”
“It’s valid. How will we all cope without our resident thespian now that we know she can cook too?” Miles adds, ignoring Lando’s warning tone. “I vote she stays.”
“Milo, you’re dramatic enough for everyone,” Lando snaps. “If it were between you and Holiday for an award, you’d win.”
I snort out a giggle because it’s true. I might be the professional actress, but Miles is the drama queen.
“You think?” Miles clasps his hands to his chest and gives me an idea.
“Wait,” I order, rushing out of my seat and up the stairs two at a time to my bedroom. “One sec.”
At the back of the closet is the box Ashley sent, which I never unpacked. Ripping off the tape, I ease out the biggest of the leather presentation cases and run back downstairs.
I hold it out to Miles while everyone else looks on curiously.
“Here. For tonight only, this can be yours.”
He cautiously removes it from my hands, placing it on the table in front of him. Pushing the clasp, Miles lifts the lid and peers inside. His eyes flick to mine, one thick dark brow raised.
Gripping his fist around the statue, he eases it out. “I’d like to thank the Academy?—”
Clemmie gasps, her hands shooting forward. “Holy shit, your Oscar. Miles, gimme.”
