Page 95 of Feast

“I've had a pretty rough week, actually,” he said, his gaze flicking back to Maddie’s.

“Aw,” Halley said with exaggerated pity, and Maddie had to bite back a laugh. “What happened?”

His mustache twitched harder, but when his gaze went back to Maddie’s, what she saw there made her breath catch in her throat. “It’s a long story, but the gist is, I fucked up.”

“Spencer! Language,” Heather admonished from the stove.

“Sorry, Mom,” he said, his gaze never leaving Maddie’s.

“Stephen!” Heather called. “Come help me with this bird.”

“Coming,” came the call from the living room, and when Spence stepped aside to let Stephen through the doorway, Maddie turned away to pull plates out of the cupboard.

“Maddie!” her father boomed, and she turned, plates in hand, to see him beaming at her, his bald head gleaming in the overhead lights. “How’s my girl?”

“I’m good, Dad,” she said, leaning into his bear hug. He smelled like Old Spice and fabric softener, a combination she always associated with comfort. “How’s married life treating you?”

“Can’t complain,” he said, turning to give his bride a sassy wink. Her answering giggle made Maddie smile. Then he turned back to her. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, and edging around him, began to set the table.

“You’re working too much,” he countered, watching her with a frown.

“I’m not,” she promised. “There’s just a lot to catch up on. It’ll slow down soon.”

He crossed his arms, resting them on the shelf of his belly. “You need to make sure you’ve got a good work/life balance, kiddo, or you’ll burn out.”

“I know, Dad,” she said, and rather than walk past Spence to the other side of the table, reached over to place the last two plates.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he persisted, taking the chicken platter from Heather and setting it on the table.

Maddie crossed to the sink and turned on the water, her back to Spence. “No. I was, but it didn’t work out.”

“Hey Dad, did I tell you?” Halley piped up, stepping forward to take a bowl of green beans to the table. “I got a job.”

“That’s wonderful,” Heather enthused, pouring gravy into a bowl. “Where is it? What is it?”

“It’s a personal assistant job,” Halley said, filling the kitchen with chatter about her new job, her mysterious millionaire boss, and the fancy Heritage Hill house where she’d interviewed until they were all seated around the table, Halley next to Maddie and Spence on her other side.

“I don’t know if I like this,” Stephen muttered, his homely face scrunched up in a scowl. “You working in some rich guy’s house.”

“The job came through an agency, Dad,” Halley reminded him, reaching for the bowl of mashed potatoes. “All the clients go through a strict vetting process with background checks, the whole works. It’s perfectly safe.”

Unconvinced, Stephen shook his head. “Still.”

“I think it sounds exciting,” Heather put in and gave Stephen a not-so-subtle nudge with her elbow. “Much more interesting than working in a real estate office. Would you carve the chicken, please, darling?”

Still frowning, Stephen reached for the carving knife.

As he began slicing it up, Heather sent Halley a subtle wink, then aimed a smile at Spence. “Spencer, how’s work going?”

“Good,” he said. “Busy.”

“Not too busy for you to have a social life, I hope,” Heather said brightly. “I want grandbabies while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”

Beside Maddie, Halley choked on her mashed potatoes.

“Goodness, are you all right?” Heather asked.

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