Chapter 9

I kick the Range Rover door shut. It’s taken two trips to the car to bring all the shopping bags in, even with one hooked on each finger.

For a brief second, I think my mother’s flown over because her voice is the first thing I hear as I walk into the house. Then I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Lando standing in front of the vast glass windows next to Miles’s tree, holding his phone out.

Don’t be mistaken, I love my mother. But the Duchess of Oxfordshire and Aspen wouldn’t be a great match. She likes her snow in Gstaad or St. Moritz. Though she’d probably find refuge in Chanel.

He turns around as he hears my footsteps and throws me a deep roll of his eyes. He’s clearly been standing there for a while, and from the sounds of it, it’s still going to be a while before he gets a word in.

“James can organize for all of Caroline’s things to be bagged up and sent to the charity shop.”

“Mum—”

“And to think I welcomed her into our family.”

I cover a snort.

Welcoming isn’t the adjective I’d have used to describe her behavior toward Caroline, but then again, it would be easier to welcome a pit viper. Dropping the shopping bags, I perch on the end of the table and listen, because if I’m not mistaken, Lando has finally told our mother exactly why the wedding was called off, and not just because “they got cold feet.” Probably wise having an entire continent between us when he did.

“Mum, stop talking, will you? Let Caroline collect her things and leave. I don’t want you getting involved. You don’t need to get involved.”

“I’m already involved, darling. I’m your mother .”

“I’ll do it,” Clemmie interrupts, her voice loud enough that it echoes. “It won’t take me long, I’ll go to Bluebell Cottage, pack it all up, and text her to collect them.”

Lando’s shoulders drop in relief. “Thanks, Clem.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You can move back into Burlington, darling. Bluebell Cottage is too small for you anyway, I don’t know why you insisted on living there. Burlington is your birthright. We’ll redecorate the cottage, new furniture, and it can be rented out. Just like all the other cottages in Valentine Nook.”

Lando runs his finger over his brow and sighs again, but doesn’t put up an argument, so I jump in.

“Wow, mum, an entire redecoration? Just buy a new mattress, it’ll be easier.”

That raises a smile on Lando, but only a small one, and it’s more because he knows I’m trying to get our mother riled up. Which it does.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alexander,” she snaps. “It’s overdue for an upgrade, anyway.”

“If you’re redecorating, can you do mine, too, then? And Miles’s could do with one, though his probably needs a hazmat team.”

Clemmie chuckles, but the sharp tut comes straight from Mum.

“Has everything calmed down at home now?” I ask, swiftly before she starts talking about paint swatches.

“Yes, it’s fine. Though I do wish you’d told me about her sooner. The press release went out on the day of the wedding, and we have no intention of saying anything more. Everyone will get bored eventually. They’ve left the village for the moment.”

“Thanks, Mum. I’m sorry about it all, truly.” There’s a weariness in Lando’s voice I feel deep in my bones.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, darling. At least it’s given the press something other than Miles to write about for once.” I can almost see her pursing her lips.

Lando rolls his eyes, even though it’s true. Miles is in the papers more often than not, and much to our mother’s chagrin, it has less to do with his skills on the polo field as part of the England team, and more to do with his skills in the bedroom.

“Al…” Clemmie cuts in, and once more our mother is stopped in her tracks. “I want to hear more about this Christmas tree girl.”

This time I groan. Thankfully Lando takes one look at my face and decides now is the time to end the call. “Sorry, both, Al will need to tell you another day. The car’s here to take us to the slopes.”

I turn to look out of the front windows. There’s nothing there. Not to mention we’re not skiing today. We have a gingerbread competition to win, and Miles is playing a snow polo tournament tomorrow, so we’re going down to look at the ponies later.

“Oh, okay, darling. Love you both. Please don’t do anything silly.”

Loosely translated that means to keep a close eye on Miles. Something easier said than done.

“Don’t worry, Miles is still in one piece, and he’s having an early night tonight.” Lando grins wide. “Bye, Clem. Love you.”

I barely get out a “Bye” myself before Lando shuts the phone off and tosses it onto the nearby couch.

“So…you told Mum the full story, then?”

Pushing his hands into his pockets, he rocks back on his heels and nods sadly. “Yeah. Easier than I expected. I didn’t realize quite how much she really hated Caroline.”

I chuckle, not that it’s that funny, because it definitely made things hard for Lando. But no one liked her, some were just better at hiding it than others. Me, for instance, and Hendricks.

“What did she say?”

“Thank god we never gave her any of the family jewels.” Lando mimics our mother’s voice perfectly, before his face drops again. “As far as Mum is concerned, Caroline can keep what she was given and use it as a payoff.”

And by my calculation, that comes to a couple of million.

“All in an honest day’s work.” I laugh. “And you’ll probably get a week’s grace before Mum starts trying to set you up again.”

“Don’t.” He groans, though his jaw is clenched in frustration, because he knows it’s true.

Our mother won’t stop until all her children are married and producing babies. At least when Max came along for Hendricks, it calmed her urge to become a grandmother, but it’s Lando’s job to produce an heir to Burlington, and she doesn’t let him forget it.

“Have you heard from Caroline?”

He picks up his phone from where he tossed it, opens it up, and hands it to me. My eyes scan down the screen, widening with every message I read.

There have to be over fifty from Caroline, all with some iteration of I’m sorry, it was a mistake.

Not one has been replied to.

“Shit,” I hiss. “What about Jeremy?”

He nods to his phone, so I scroll through more until I see Jeremy’s name. There’s just one message, sent in the early hours before the wedding.

Jeremy: Sorry, mate, I know I’ve fucked up our friendship. But I’m in love with her.

This time, I let out a low whistle.

“Jesus. I didn’t see that plot twist.”

“Nope.”

“This must have been going on for ages.”

His head bobs, sad and resigned. “Yup.”

“I don’t know if that makes this whole situation better or worse.” I toss the phone back onto the sofa.

“Me either. It’s all I’ve been thinking about. How long had it been going on? Did I see the signs and ignore them? Why didn’t I notice?”

“What’ve you come up with?”

He drags a hand down his face and drops into one of the big chairs with a heavy sigh. “Fucking nothing.”

“Well, you don’t have to do anything about it now. But maybe you should move back into Burlington, you’re going to have to eventually.”

“Yes, I know,” he replies. “I only moved out because Caroline didn’t want to live so close to Mum, even though she’s in a completely different wing of the house.”

I nod. As shit as breaking up before a wedding is, it’s clear to anyone with eyes that Lando’s had a lucky escape.

“You’ll be closer to the day-to-day operations,” I reason, though it’s a weak argument. With a pair of binoculars on a clear day you can see the top of Bluebell Cottage from Burlington.

“By what? A couple of fields?”

“The other bonus is that you never have to hear Miles talking about your CaNdo Attitude.” I laugh, because Miles, being Miles, decided to give Caroline and Lando a celebrity-style moniker. One they both hated, therefore Miles used it whenever he could.

I watch a broad smile spread across my brother’s face; it turns into a grin, which turns into a big belly-rumbling laugh. “There’s the silver lining if I ever saw one. That fucking name.”

“Thought you’d be happy.”

“So happy.” He sits up and peers at the dozen bags I dropped on the floor when I arrived back. “What’s that? Where’ve you been?”

I’m just about to reply when the small side door opens and out walks Maggie. She’s carrying a huge tray laden with coffees, pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. After all the flurry of this morning, I suddenly realize I am absolutely famished.

“Good morning, sirs. I thought you might like your breakfast out here this morning.” She says, placing the tray on the large table as Lando leaps up to help her.

“Thank you, Maggie. Great idea. This is perfect.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles, though it’s not as big of a smile as Miles usually gets, and she leaves without saying another word—but only once she’s had a good look around and not spotted Miles.

“I think she was hoping you were someone else.” I laugh and grab a cup to pour a coffee. “Where are the terrible two, anyway? How was the Caribou Club?”

Lando’s busy spooning heaps of scrambled egg onto his plate and shrugs without looking up. “Didn’t go.”

“You came back on your own?”

He nods and takes the coffee I pass him. “I think I heard them get in around four a.m. and they weren’t alone.”

“What?” I ask, picking up a slice of crispy bacon and crunching down on it.

“The twins…they came back with girls.”

“Ahh. Only a matter of time, I s’pose.”

“Exactly.” He puts down his plate, now loaded with toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes. “So are you going to tell me why you were at…” he peers at the shopping bags, “…Trader Joe’s before eight a.m.?”

“Gingerbread house competition,” I reply, buttering a slice of toast. “Has to be in by Thursday, we’ve got two days.”

“I’m going to need you to expand with a little more information. I wasn’t listening to Miles yesterday when he was banging on about it. If we have to make the gingerbread, I think we need to opt out. It’s not really safe to let any of us loose in the kitchen. Except Hendricks.”

He’s right, Hendricks is the only one of us who can legitimately cook.

“No, we don’t have to make the gingerbread.”

And I proceed to tell him about the competition, along with everything I saw this morning in the bakery, including the Rivern Family’s entry of Aspen Village.

“I’m all on board for winning a competition, but what exactly are we going to be making?” he asks.

I shrug. “Haven’t got that far, we need to brainstorm. It needs to be good, better than Aspen Village, that’s for sure. Rivern brownnosers .”

Lando lifts a thick eyebrow. “And this is all to do with the girl you ditched us for last night? The Christmas tree girl, who also works in a bakery? What’s her name again?”

I glance up to find my oldest brother looking at me with amusement thick set on his face. I could lie and say no, it’s about winning—especially as the only reason we came to Aspen in the first place was to get him away from England and his cheating fiancée. It’s not ideal I’ve met a girl when I should be supporting him.

“Haven. And yes, kind of,” I say eventually.

“What happened last night?”

“Not as much as I wanted to…” I smirk, swiping the last bit of my pancake through the maple syrup on my plate.

“If you make your gingerbread house well enough, you could be in with a chance…”

“I’m in with a chance anyway. I’m meeting her later for drinks. Somewhere dark and cozy…” I grin, and my dick twitches. “Winning at this is an added bonus. Plus, it’s for charity.” I pause for a second as a pang of guilt makes itself known. “D’you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Mind if I…you know…”

“Hook up with a girl?”

“Yes. If you’d rather I stayed here with you?—”

He’s about to reply, but there’s a clatter on the stairs behind us and we both turn to see Miles with his arm around a blonde girl. On closer inspection, it’s not an affectionate arm around her, it’s more in the style of trying to hurry her along. It would account for Miles’s eye roll and why he’s carrying her shoes plus a tiny gold bag, and why he doesn’t notice Lando and me before she does.

“Ooh, is that coffee?”

I’m about to offer her some just to annoy Miles, but he distracts her with a kiss that lasts far too long for this time of the morning and opens the front door. A gust of freezing air whirls in. Lando’s eyebrows shoot up because, aside from an enormous fur bomber jacket and what looks like the shortest skirt known to man, she’s not wearing anything else.

“Bye, sweetheart. Last night was fun…shame I have to go back to England.”

“But I’m coming to watch you play tomorrow, don’t forget,” the blonde squeaks, trying to keep warm.

She’s now peering around Miles, even though he’s doing his best to block her view by hopping up and down as he pulls on a pair of snow boots. It’s quite the entertainment, especially when Miles shoots us a scowl and slams the door behind them.

“At least he’s walking her to the gate,” mutters Lando, as I chuckle. “Not sure that’s happened before.”

“Perhaps he’s matured. It’s been a while since we were privy to the Miles Burlington morning parade.” I pick up my coffee and sit back. “Mum really should get started on settling him down, it’s going to take a decade as it is.”

Lando’s still laughing when Miles returns from seeing the blonde into what I hope was an Uber.

“What’s so funny?” he asks and cups his hands together to breathe warmth into them.

“Just talking about Mum working on finding you a wife.”

Miles stops midstride and visibly shudders. “Hard pass.”

“Did you not want to introduce us to your new friend?”

“Not especially,” he responds, snatching up a piece of bacon before dropping into the chair at the end of the table. “Where’s the coffee?”

“In front of you.”

Miles’s gaze drops to the pot and he reaches for a cup. “So it is.”

Lando and I quietly sip our coffee, while Miles slowly peers around at the offering on the table, and his eyes light up.

“Wait. Are those fresh cinnamon buns? From the bakery?” A shit-eating grin spreads across his face and he pins me with a look that should come with devil horns. “Alex ander …”

“Yes.”

“You dirty dog.”

“Says the guy who just shoved a girl out the front door into the cold without even offering her a to-go cup of coffee.”

“They know the deal with me. You, however…” He wags his finger at me.

“Doesn’t sound like she knows the deal…two days in a row,” teases Lando. “Or are you slacking? How are you going to get out of her coming to the polo?”

“There’s going to be a thousand people there. She won’t be allowed with the players,” he replies simply, because he’s well practiced in avoiding women.

“Is Henners awake yet?” I ask, pushing my coffee cup over to him to top up.

“Yeah, he’s talking to Max.”

Hendricks’s life revolves around his son, Maxwell.

Max might not have been planned, but since the day he came into all our lives, he’s never known anything other than unconditional love. It’s unfortunate that Max’s mother isn’t the mother he deserves and was more interested in Hendricks’s money than having a child, but now Hendricks has full custody it’s brought a stability that Max didn’t have before, and they’re rarely apart. I know it’s been hard for him to be away from his son this week, but I also know that he would do anything to support Lando. He’s still going to be first on the plane home though.

I yawn and check my watch. Hendricks is going to be a while.

“We don’t have to be down at the polo club until two. I’m going in the hot tub, and then we’ve got time for a ski. Haven’t taken my board out yet,” says Miles, reading my expression incorrectly. I’d kind of like all four of us here when I explain about the gingerbread.

“Nope. Not this morning. I have other plans for you.”

His skeptical gaze slices between Lando and me. “What plans?”

“Al’s decided we’re going to win the gingerbread competition.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup,” I reply, and gathering up as many bags as I can carry, I deposit them at the clear end of the table.

“What’s all this?”

“Decorating stuff.”

“For the gingerbread house,” adds Lando. “Haven?—”

Miles winces and looks up at me with eyes full of pity. “Al, this is a lot of effort just to get laid. If you need me to give you tips…”

Lando barks out a laugh.

My jaw clenches. “Fuck’s sake.”

I lay everything out on the table, all neatly compartmentalized in sections, and turn back to my brothers.

The younger one peers at me over the top of his coffee cup. “All right, Alexander, I’m in. I’m very much enjoying this less Grinchy version of you we’ve seen the past few days. So if I have to decorate a Christmas cookie or whatever to keep you smiling and get some, then I’ll do it.”

“ Thanks .” I roll my eyes.

Once more, Miles is annoyingly correct. Now I think about it, I haven’t hated this December quite as much as usual. I’ve been less edgy, more tolerant of Miles, and yesterday, Lando commented on how my melancholy wasn’t quite so pronounced this year.

Maybe coming to Aspen at Christmas wasn’t such a terrible idea.