Chapter Four

Nina

I pull up to Aunt Lil and Uncle Dan's house, but don't get out of my car right away. It's already been a full day, and the sun is just starting its descent. This morning's shift was full of issues, starting with Susan forgetting to schedule someone for the afternoon. I had spent every free moment of a very busy morning begging any of my coworkers to give up their day off before one of the guys finally caved. Then I'd Ubered over to the mechanic, who tried to convince me it was time to think about another car. This latest fix cost at least double what the car was worth, which wasn't an easy pill to swallow. But how can you put a price on memories? My grandmother's car was so much more than tin and vinyl. It was a childhood of trips to the ice cream shop or slow drives down country roads. It was my grandmother's off-key singing and windows rolled down. It was my youth, and it was her.

I wasn't giving up the car.

But I still held my breath as I traveled up the Grapevine highway, or every time I accidentally drove faster than fifty-five. By the time I pull up in front of my aunt and uncle's house, my muscles ache from clenching them and my eyes burn from exhaustion.

The silver Lexus parked out front lets me know my parents are here. Behind them is a huge Dodge Ram, which I guess is Jordy's, even if it seems completely out of character. The cousin I knew would be in a luxury car like her parents', not some huge pickup truck with three-foot tires. But it's been a few years, so anything is possible.

I muster the courage to leave my car, looking down at what I chose to wear. I don't cater too much to my mother's fashion preferences. My hair, much to her dismay, is always jewel-toned. Since I had time this morning, I dyed the fading blue a vibrant shade of turquoise with purple highlights, and I'm wearing fuchsia eyeshadow to match. My skirt is a little looser than the ones I like to wear, simply so my mom won't notice I've put on a few more pounds. I paired it with a baggy sweater that hangs off one shoulder, plus a few necklaces that hang below my chest. On my feet are stiletto booties that show off my calves, which is a feature I'm proud of. I might have too much cushion around my ass and waist, and not enough muscle tone in my arms, but my legs are shapely, especially when I wear heels.

And this outfit is cute enough that even my mom might like it.

I knock on the door, then wait for someone to answer. I can hear them all laughing inside, already starting the party without me. I wonder if I turn around and leave, would they notice? I have half a mind to do so, when Uncle Dan opens the door. He kisses me on the cheek, then steps aside so I can come in.

"How was the drive?" he asks.

"Not bad," I say. This will be the extent of our conversation today. Sure enough, he nods, then heads back toward the dining room where everyone is, leaving me to follow .

"Hey there, Pumpkin. Glad you could make it," my dad says as I pass through the kitchen. He claps me in a hug, then kisses my forehead.

"Hey, Dad. What's new?"

"Not much on the home front. You should stop by sometime, pay your old folks a visit."

Yeah, not going to happen. I love my dad, but the less time I can spend around my mom, the better.

"Can I make you a cocktail or get you a beer?" my dad asks, pulling a beer out of the fridge for himself.

I open my mouth, but my mom calls out from the dining room.

"Lil got her those skinny margaritas in the outside fridge, Steve. Remember?"

My face reddens, and my dad shoots me an apologetic look, then shrugs his shoulders. "I'll go get it for you," he says, and starts to leave.

"No Dad, I got it," I say. I'd rather have a cocktail—a real one—but Skinny Margaritas will have to do. About five of them, please.

I enter the dining room where my mom is with my aunt and cousin, all seated at the dining table. My mom plucks a cheese cube from the appetizer tray in front of them, then glances at me. Her eyes linger on my hair, then sweep over my body, her smile a mask on her face as she does her usual inventory. She catches my aunt's gaze and an unspoken message passes between them. Later, when everyone is gone, my mom will let me know their assessment on my health, complete with a set of instructions on how to fix what I've wrecked. "I made you a special veggie platter with fat free dip, it's in the kitchen." She smiles at her sister, who nods in approval.

"You won't believe the ingredients in some of those full fat dips," Aunt Lil says, taking a swipe at the full fat dip in front of her with her carrot .

I haven't even put my purse down, and I don't even want anything on that tray. But I settle into dutiful family punching bag mode, offering a polite nod to Aunt Lil, then a quick glance at Jordy. In the half second I take to look at her, I am filled with regret—about my outfit, my life choices, everything. Jordy looks incredible. She always has, but I'd forgotten just how beautiful she was, with her white tooth smile and flawless appearance.

She's wearing a low-cut top in silky black, the kind that my mother would never let me wear, but it looks stunning on my cousin. Her skin is golden tan, as if she just got back from the Bahamas. Also gold are the long necklaces resting between her breasts. Her dark hair is sleek and straight, and her brown eyes shine with long lashes and perfectly applied makeup. She excuses herself, and I see the perfect shape of her pear ass in high waisted white pants, accentuating the impossible length of her legs, finished off with a pair of black strappy sandals and a modest French manicure on her toes.

I caught all that in a half second, and I realize that next to her, I'm a goddamn hobbit.

"Did you see the ring on Jordy's finger?" my mom hisses once Jordy is out of the room, but well within earshot of Aunt Lil. I hadn't, didn't even know she was engaged. It's yet one more thing that Jordy has that I don't. Probably never will.

"I missed it," I admit, absentmindedly picking up a prosciutto-wrapped fig with brie and popping it in my mouth.

"Veggies, Nina," my mother hisses. I bite my tongue as I return to the kitchen to retrieve the veggie tray from the fridge, wishing I could stuff about five more of those figs in my mouth because they tasted so damn good, and they might numb this aching feeling that's settling in my stomach.

"I'm just going grab one of those margaritas," I murmur as I slide the veggie tray on the table by the charcuterie.

"Just one," my mom calls out as I escape into the garage. I'm twenty-seven years old, and she's still managing my food. Well, fuck her.

I open the outdoor fridge, note the skinny margaritas, but also the coffee liqueur Aunt Lil keeps chilled in the door. I pull that out, find a red Solo cup and the vodka in my aunt's and uncle's treasure trove cabinet of alcohol—all the ingredients I need to make a proper Black Russian. Filling the cup with ice, I pour a liberal amount of vodka, then top it with the liqueur. I swirl my cup, then take a sip, groaning as the sugary goodness reaches something deep inside me.

I finish the cup, then make myself a second. By the time I head back in the house with a skinny margarita in hand, my steps are uncertain, and I have a perma smile plastered on my face.

"There you are," my mom says, shooting me an annoyed look. The table is already set for dinner, with steaming plates of sliced sirloin, sautéed green beans, and mashed potatoes, plus a large green salad and a basket of rolls. "We thought you got lost out there."

"I was just…" I realize I'm slurring a little, and clear my throat. "I was noticing the backyard. The garden. It's really something."

I have no idea what the garden looks like, but Aunt Lil is all about appearances, including the exterior of her home. She's probably never gotten her hands in that soil, but her gardeners have likely made it lovely.

Aunt Lil takes the bait, mentioning her prize pumpkins and the gorgeous autumn bouquets she put together that are sure to win Best of Show at this year's Harvest Festival. But I barely hear her as I take in everyone at the table; rather, the one new person at the table sitting right next to Jordy, holding her perfectly manicured hand that's home to the biggest diamond ring I've ever seen in person. A man with familiar broad shoulders, a chiseled jawline, and blue eyes that indeed have flecks of gold in them. A man with the same look of surprise on his face as he takes me in .

Brayden Winters.

The man who saved me, who spent two hours talking with me as we walked home last night, who matched every goddamn item on that list of qualities in my manifestation of the perfect man…

The man who I knew was taken, but still agreed to take a fucking romantic horse ride on the beach with, and the whole time he's been engaged to my cousin.

Well played, Universe.

And goddamn, he looks good—even with that shocked look on his face he's trying to hide. I mean, I was distracted by the way he filled out his sweats the other night, but it's nothing compared to how he looks now in his button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, thick forearms appearing like he's about to get down to business. Maybe that's just the Black Russian talking, but holy fuck, the man looks delicious. Under proper lighting, I can see exactly how devastatingly handsome he is, with his clean-shaven face and gorgeous dark hair, luscious thick eyebrows, dimples I could get lost in, and eyes that remind me of the deepest part of the ocean.

That's when I realize I'm staring, and I'm a whole lot drunker than I thought. I stumble a little as I take the only seat available, which happens to be right across from Brayden. Uncle Dan sits to my left, which is a relief, because if I reek of coffee liqueur, he won't say anything.

"Pass the rolls," I murmur to Uncle Dan, hoping to sop up some of this alcohol. Everyone at the table is in double, even as I try my hardest to focus.

"Try salad first," my mother says, mid-story, and I glance quickly at Brayden to see if he notices, then away again. It's one thing for my mom to highlight my weight issues among family, but now that we have someone else here, I'm suddenly aware of every word out of my mother's mouth, how fast my heart is racing, and how much I regret slamming two Black Russians despite knowing I'm a complete lightweight—and I desperately need that bread.

I leap up and snatch the breadbasket, grabbing several rolls and stuffing one in my face. The conversation at the table stops, and I pause my chewing as I remember where I am. Slowly, I replace the basket on the table and perch back in my seat.

My mom gapes at me. "Nina, no one invites the pig to the table."

I flush, knowing everyone heard what she said. "It was a long drive here," I say, waving my hand as if to erase her words, and my behavior.

"I offered you the veg…" my mom starts, but I cut her off.

"Hi, I'm Nina. I don't believe we've met." I stand again, offering a roll-free hand to Brayden across the table. The relief on his face is brief, but unmistakable.

I don't know whether to be amused by this or offended.

"Brayden," he says. He takes my hand, holding my gaze for a beat longer than socially acceptable.

"My fiancé," Jordy adds when he doesn't. I wrinkle my nose and offer her my most patronizing smile. As in, thanks Dr. Obvious . Or maybe, too bad for your fiancé . Let her figure out the meaning.

"Nina, your mom tells me you work for a law office in Sunset Bay," Aunt Lil says as I find my seat again. "She says they're making you partner."

I snort a little too loudly, then try to cover it with a polite cough. Meanwhile, Aunt Lil is eyeing my ocean-hued hair, probably wondering what kind of law firm I'm working for.

This is my mother's game—making her daughter sound more important as a way of one-upping her sister's kid. Jordy probably has some fabulous job somewhere, spurring my mom to make up stories about me.

"Nope, still a barista," I say, suddenly finding great pleasure in the way my mom's shooting daggers into the side of my head. Maybe it's the Black Russian, maybe it's Brayden sitting across from me, getting ready to marry the wicked witch of SoCal, or maybe I'm just tired of never being enough for this goddamn family. But I seem to have lost all the fucks I had to give. Shit is about to get real. "In fact, I just got promoted to lead barista, which gives me the privilege of staying late while the manager's nephew peels paint off the walls with his scream-o death metal. The last time I closed, his band managed to chase every fucking customer out of the shop, so I not only had to stay late but there were literally zero tips left for me."

"Language, darling," my mother says. "I'd feel sorry for you, except for the fact that you don't even need to work. My mother set you up for life when she wrote my sister and me out of the will. You could spend your days, I don't know, finding a nice husband instead of wasting your time making coffee."

"Poppy," my aunt murmurs, but she's also smothering a laugh.

"A husband?" I snort out loud. "Why settle for one man when I can have them all?" My mom's smile drops, and I can see the pleading in her eyes, but I'm suddenly having way too much fun here. I help myself to the food, bypassing the salad and green beans completely as I plop a huge mound of potatoes on my plate, followed by steak. If this is going to be my last dinner in this house, might as well get my fill. "Hell, just last week, I was with Sebastian, this guy who did a funny little thing with his tongue. What was that?"

"Nina!"

"That's right. He could roll his Rs." I attempt to do it now, but my vodka tongue gets in the way, making me sound like a dying frog. "Whatever, it was just a very, very nice skill to have, if you know what I mean."

I wink at Jordy as if she does, in fact, know what I mean. My cousin looks like she hasn't taken a breath since we sat down. Brayden on the other hand, is doing his absolute best to hold in a laugh, using his napkin to cover his mouth as his eyes meet mine .

"Antonina Dorotea Chance, that is enough." My mother stands. Her tone brings me back to reality, and I immediately sit back in my chair. "You may be a whore on your own time, but in this house, you will act in a civilized manner."

Whore . The word cuts through me. She knows what happened back then. She knows that's what they called me. And the way she's looking at me now, it's obvious she not only believes I'm a whore, but also finds satisfaction at my obvious recoil.

"Excuse me?" Brayden looks at my mother like he can't believe what she said.

"I apologize," my mother says, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Nina isn't at many family dinners, so she doesn't often know how to act civilly."

"There's definitely a lack of civility here, but I don't think it's Nina."

"Brayden, please," Jordy murmurs.

"I mean no disrespect," he continues, ignoring Jordy's pleas. "But in my experience, mothers do not call their daughters what you just called yours."

I look at my plate, suddenly wishing I could fall through the floor. I can barely stand up for myself in this house, and it's my family. But Brayden is an outsider–a guest—and when I look up again, he's also the only one who's looking at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks. For a moment, I forget everyone around us as our eyes stay connected. Forget that there's any barriers between this electric connection between us. Be with me , I think, and I feel my eyes sting with tears.

"Nina?"

His voice brings me back to reality. Back to the family table where I'm all alone, and he's sitting next to my cousin, his ring on her finger. And yet, he's still making me feel safe, even around my own goddamn family.

"Let's change the subject," Aunt Lil says, sunshine dripping from her voice. "I happen to know of two people getting married soon, and we have plans to make."

"Mother, we've talked about this," Jordy groans, though she places her hand in Brayden's, that giant ring glinting from the chandelier light. I can't take my eyes off it.

"I'm not talking about you two, though I do wish you'd settle on a date so we could start making all the arrangements. I'm talking about Poppy and Steve's nephew Ethan, and his beautiful bride, Claire."

"Oh, that gorgeous girl." My mother sighs, sitting back in her chair. "She's going to be a knockout in that dress. I mean, you can't even tell she's had a child with how slim she is."

Apparently that's what matters most.

"Did you hear it's on a boat?" Aunt Lil gushes. "They're doing one of those evening cruises for their wedding so they can get married at sea."

My mom and aunt continued dreaming up perfect wedding scenarios, from the colors they should choose to the menu. Meanwhile, I make good work of my plate. I've finally stopped seeing double, but I'm ravenous, which always happens when I drink. Or when I'm uncomfortable. Or when I'm absolutely rocked by devastation. Right now, I'm all three, but I'm trying to put on the performance of a lifetime that I'm fine.

No one is paying enough attention to me to care one way or the other, so I grab seconds and go to town.

In between bites, I steal glances at Brayden and Jordy, trying to figure out how the two of them ended up together. At this moment, Brayden is making small talk with my dad as my mom and aunt yammer on. Meanwhile, Jordy seems more interested in pushing food from one side of her plate to the other without actually eating. She seems just as uncomfortable as I am, and for a moment, I forget that we hate each other. The honest truth is, I miss what we used to have.

She catches me staring at her, and I sense her softening, like she's mulling something over. Maybe she also regrets our rift and misses the bond we used to share. I don't want to make the first move, just in case I'm wrong, but I'm dying to test the waters. Maybe offer a small smile. Or tell her she looks nice. She does look nice. Perfect, in fact. I start to open my mouth to tell her.

"You have something on your face," she says loudly, and the conversation stops around us.

"Excuse me?" I feel my cheeks heating up, and my hand flies to my face where I feel dried mashed potatoes near my mouth—and not just a little bit. The whole table is looking at me, even Brayden, and I feel like I'm going to die.

"Honestly, Nina," my mother sighs.

I grab a napkin and wet it in my glass, then work at finding anything else that has made a home on my face.

"Is it gone?" I whisper to Jordy. She shrugs, barely looking at me as she pretends to be more interested in the table linen. My eyes find Brayden's, and he gives a slight nod, followed by an uptick of the corner of his mouth.

Is he laughing at me? Does he think I'm as big of a joke as the rest of this family. I honestly can't get out of here fast enough.

"So, who will be your plus one?" my aunt asks.

I realize she's talking to me, and once again I find myself at the center of attention. "My what?"

"Your date, sweetie." She glances at my mom and then back to me, as if I can't see their secret messages to each other. Look at Nina, being stupid once again. "To the wedding?" she prompts. "Are you taking Sebastian? "

"Who?" I'm seriously not winning any genius points here. I realize she's talking about my made-up boyfriend. "Oh, him. No, he was just a fun thing to do for the weekend."

Jordy chokes on some water, and I sip mine to hide my smile.

My aunt, however, ignores what I said. "You know we'd love to meet anyone you're seeing. Maybe one day you'll be planning your own wedding, just like Jordy and Brayden."

I mean, it sounded like they were doing everything but planning their wedding, but all right. When I look in their direction again, their faces aren't giving anything away.

"Well, the poly throuple I recently joined frowns on institutionalized unions," I say. "Wait, what does that make us now? A quadruouple?"

"Nina, come on."

I ignore my mom and continue. "I mean, Jeff and Sandy might be into it, but David seems to believe it might wreck the balance."

"What's a throuple?" Aunt Lil whispers to Uncle Dan.

"Mom, she's fucking with you." Jordy shoots her mom a look, then glares at me. "She's fucking with all of us. This has been one big giant waste of time, and you all are just playing into her games. Can we either get on with it, or just end the night?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that huge ass house you live in all by yourself. Nanna Dot left you everything and not one cent for the rest of the family, and you sit there on your throne acting like you're better than all of us."

I laugh, tossing my napkin on the table. "That's why I was invited? Just one more night to rub it in my face that Nanna Dot couldn't stand any of you, so she left it to the only person who actually spent time with her?"

"Leeched off her, you mean."

"Jordy." Brayden covers her hand with his, but she yanks it away.

"It's true," Jordy continues. "She saw an opportunity and went for it." She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. "I got to hand it to you, Nina, you have the patience of a saint. You're definitely smarter than we all gave you credit for. We all thought you moved in with Nanna Dot because you couldn't stand living under your parents' rules. But really you were just worming your way into being Nanna's favorite and turning her against all of us."

I can feel the white-hot rage coursing through my veins as I listen to the horrible words coming out of my cousin's mouth. It doesn't matter what I do, they will always believe I swindled Nanna Dot out of her money, as if her life wasn't as important as the inheritance.

I look at my mom, enraged by the stoic expression on her face. As if she doesn't disagree. As if she thinks I had ulterior motives for moving there.

"You know why I moved in with Nanna Dot," I spit at her, standing and scooting my chair back. "You know ."

At least she has the decency to lose her indignant expression. My mom's face falls, and for a moment I see regret. I see the mom I confided in, who held me as I fell apart. Before she forced me to keep this quiet so no one else knew, my mom was who I needed her to be.

And it had been her idea for me to live with Nanna Dot. Not mine.

"Jordy, you're out of line," my mother says, turning her gaze to my cousin.

"Don't talk to my daughter that way." Aunt Lil starts to push her chair back, but my mom stops her with a look. Something in it makes her simmer back down.

"This whole conversation has gotten away from us."

"What conversation?" My jaw can't drop any lower. "This has been a pick on Nina night right from the start. If you all are so mad at me for what Nanna Dot chose to do, why did you even invite me here? Why do you talk to me at all? I don't need any of you, and you obviously don't need me. So if we're done here, I have a long drive to get home."

"We'll take you," Brayden says, placing his napkin on the table and standing up.

"Like hell we will." Jordy stands too, hands on her hips. But Brayden's eyes are on my empty skinny margarita bottle.

"Oh, because I can't handle my alcohol? Because I'm the one causing issues here?" But even as I say it, I know I'm still tipsy. The food helped to dry me out, and my anger helped hide it. But I'd be an idiot to get behind the wheel.

Rule number one when backed into a corner: always have a way out. I fucked that up the moment I decided to drink.

"I've had enough." Then I get up and leave the table, stopping only to grab my purse before I go out the door.