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“Girlfriend,” Spencer clarifies.
Brady’s more interested in me. He studies me, then glances at Layla, then back at me. He’s too smart for his own good. Or at least, my good.
Brady raises his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Spencer barely spares Brady a glance. “Owen, I wasn’t sure you’d show up. Last time we spoke, you said you’d see me at my funeral.”
I was twenty-four, bitter, and a bit on the melodramatic side. “I’m here because my mom asked me to come. Not for any other reason.”
Tori pouts. “You didn’t come to see me? I’m your best friend.”
A grin spreads across my face without permission. I promised Mom and Brady I would make this a great Christmas, but I didn’t expect to find much joy here. I didn’t take into consideration Tori.
When I cut Mom’s family out of my life, Tori wouldn’t let me go. She called me daily until I finally picked up the phone. She would have attended Dad’s funeral, but it was the end of her first year of law school, and she couldn’t get away.
These days, we video chat at least once a week, and I fly out to New York every few months to see her and Sadie. I haven’t been out since October, and it’s good to see her.
“You could always come visit me,” I say. “My house may be small, but I still have a guest bedroom you and Sadie can stay in.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Me in Idaho? Isn’t there cow poop everywhere? I won’t ruin my shoes, not even for my favorite cousin.”
“Hey!” Spencer says. “I gave you that Cartier diamond necklace for your birthday.”
I laugh, something I did not expect to do this week, but otherwise ignore Spencer. “I live in Utah, not Idaho. We’re known for national parks and skiing.” She acts like anything west of Florida is podunkville. “However, my mom lives in Nevada, and they’re known for gold mines and casinos if you’d rather visit me there.”
Her eyes widen with interest. “Tell me more.”
My attention annoyingly goes back to Layla. She’s half-hiding behind Spencer’s shoulder again. They never answered my question about how they met.
“Layla, how do you know Spencer?”
“They met at a New Year’s Eve party a year ago,” Tori says in a sing-song voice. She widens her eyes like she knows this is a lie, but we’re all going along with it because it would be bad manners to call the two of them out as frauds. “Spencer knew from their first kiss that he couldn’t live without her.”
I want to gag. And punch that smirk off of Spencer’s face.
“You know she’s a teacher, right?” I say.
Layla blanches. “What has that got to do with anything?”
Everything as far as this family is concerned, but the dig I intended for Spencer hit Layla, and I open my mouth to apologize. I don’t get the chance.
“This is a lovely sight.”
Everyone turns as one to the door where Grandmother stands. She’s … smaller than the last time I saw her eight years ago. Mom mentioned she’d been sick the last month, but I assumed that meant a cold. Grandmother looks like she’s been battling death. Her dark red blazer fits poorly over her narrow shoulders. There are hollows in her cheeks, and her eyes appear sunken. I fear she might topple over at any second.
“Marianne.” She takes a step in my mom’s direction, and Mom throws herself into Grandmother’s arms, but gently.
They both cry, and then Ellory joins their hug, and she pulls in Dorian. It’s the most emotional I’ve ever seen any of them. Especially Grandmother.
With that one hug, it seems everything is forgiven. I clench my hands into fists. This is what Mom wants, to be back with her family, but I can’t forget how everyoneignored her and Dad for decades. Yes, it was because of Grandfather, but everyone in this room followed along like baby ducklings so they weren’t disinherited as well. If he hadn’t died eight months ago, Mom wouldn’t have been invited to celebrate Christmas with the family, and we all know it.
Grandmother pulls back and comes to me. She lays her hand against my cheek. Her touch is soft, but her fingers are cold. She has too much skin for her bones. No matter how weak she appears, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Her smile no longer hides behind a placid expression. I’m familiar with her speaking quietly, so it seems her voice booms around the room as she speaks now.
“Owen, you are looking well. I’m so glad you came. And this must be Brady. Your mom has told me all about you. She says you love to read fantasy and even started writing your own book. We’re going to have a novelist in the family in a few years. Is that right?”
Brady looks stricken. No one knows about his dream of being an author. Surprisingly, no one laughs. Tori doesn’t even roll her eyes, and eye rolling is her reaction to ninety percent of what she’s told.
“I look forward to reading your first book,” Grandmother continues when Brady gives no response.
