Page 68 of Her Holiday Arrangement
Riley propped herself up on one elbow, watching her with an unreadable expression. “We’ll face them together,” she said softly. Riley’s answering smile was small but real, and it gave Elizabeth the courage to stand. For the first time in days, Elizabeth felt like they were walking in step, not just performing for the same audience but holding onto something of their own.
They hurriedly got dressed for the day. Elizabeth opened the bedroom door, and together they stepped into the hall.
Halfway to the dining room, Elizabeth thought maybe, just maybe, they would survive the rest of the holiday intact.
Elizabeth’s mother was waiting at the foot of the staircase as though she’d been rehearsing. Pearls gleamed at her throat, and her smile was polished to a shine so bright it made Elizabeth uneasy. Riley’s hand brushed hers once before slipping neatly away, and Elizabeth wished, just for a second, that she’d held on.
“Elizabeth,” Annette began, her voice rich with triumph. “Riley. Good morning.”
“Mother.” Elizabeth’s tone came out cool, the practiced neutrality she always reserved for family breakfasts. “Is something wrong?”
“Quite the opposite,” Annette said, as if Elizabeth had just set up the perfect cue. “I’ve spoken with Sophia. Can you imagine? She was in Paris but now she’s back here on the East Coast, and when I invited her to our little family gathering she was absolutelydelightedto join. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Elizabeth froze. The world seemed to tilt, the carpet pulling slightly sideways under her feet.
Riley didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to, Elizabeth could feel her stiffen, feel the faint ripple of hurt and disbelief radiating from her like heat off a flame.
“Mother,” Elizabeth said, forcing her jaw to unclench. “You invited my ex to Christmas?”
Annette’s smile didn’t falter, not even for a second. “Darling, you know how fond we all are of Sophia. She was practically family. Besides, she said she had no other plans, and I thought, why not? A familiar face, someone who understands our traditions. It will be… comforting.”
Comforting.
Elizabeth wanted to laugh, sharp and bitter. Comforting for whom? Certainly not for her, and definitely not for Riley, who had been standing at Elizabeth’s side every day, who had seen Sophia walk out of Elizabeth’s apartment without so much as a backward glance.
Riley’s expression was controlled, but Elizabeth caught the flicker of her throat as she swallowed, the way her hands curled too tightly against her sides. Elizabeth wanted to reach for her, to pull her close and say something, anything, that would undo the blow her mother had just delivered. But Annette’s gaze was on them both, watching, calculating, and Elizabeth’s instinct was to armor up.
“That was presumptuous,” Elizabeth said carefully. “Next time, perhaps ask me before inviting people into my home.”
Annette’s brows arched. “Your home? Darling, this is the Hale estate. It belongs to the family.” Her tone was gentle, but the barb landed.
Elizabeth felt Riley’s eyes on her then, waiting to see if she would push back, if she would stand up for them. But she didn’t. Not yet. Not with her mother’s perfectly sharpened smile daring her to make a scene.
Instead, Elizabeth inclined her head. “We’ll see her, then.”
Annette beamed, satisfied, and swept off toward the dining room, pearls catching the light like victory banners.
Elizabeth let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Riley said nothing as they entered the dining room, but Elizabeth felt the distance yawning between them again. It was only minutes ago, in the safety of their room, that they’d kissed like it mattered. Now, in the bright echo of her mother’s triumph, it felt fragile all over again.
Sophia arrived just as breakfast was being served.
Elizabeth heard her before she saw her, the low, melodious laugh that had once felt like music, now sour on the air. And then there she was, sweeping into the dining room in a tailored coat that managed to look effortless and impossibly expensive all at once. Sophia had always had that talent: slipping into a room and making everyone else feel like they were just slightly underdressed, slightly off-balance.
“Elizabeth,” she said warmly, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek before Elizabeth could move. “It’s been far too long.”
Elizabeth endured it, the brush of perfume that smelled faintly of jasmine and memory. “Sophia.”
“And Riley.” Sophia’s gaze flicked over her with polite acknowledgment, the faintest edge of familiarity in her smile. “Still keeping her organized, I see.”
Riley’s answering smile was thin. “Someone has to.”
The table chuckled. Sophia slid into the empty seat beside Elizabeth, far too close, as though Riley weren’t seated on her other side.
Elizabeth tried to breathe evenly. It was only breakfast. She could endure breakfast.
The conversation flowed easily around Sophia, of course it did. She slipped back into her role like a hand into a glove, laughing at her father’s stories, complimenting her mother’s menu, dropping references to friends abroad who would be recognizable to every person at the table.
