I don’t need to explain household arrangements to a guest.”
Alexander’s expression became almost calm.
“I’m not asking you to explain them to a guest.”
His hand found mine again.
“I’m asking because she’s going to be my wife.”
Vanessa sat down abruptly.
Logan whispered something under his breath.
My father heard only one part of the sentence that mattered to him.
Wife.
His eyes moved between us, and I watched the calculation begin.
It hurt more than I expected.
Not the shock.
The speed.
For years, I’d wanted my father to look at me as though I mattered.
Now he finally did, and I could see exactly why.
Alexander Hayes.
The contract.
My father’s business.
Within seconds, I had become valuable.
Richard forced a smile.
“Well.
This is wonderful news.
Incredible news.
Emma, why didn’t you tell us?”
I almost laughed.
Ten minutes earlier, I had been washing his roasting pan.
Now I was incredible news.
“I was going to,” I said.
My father spread his arms toward the dining room.
“Then come sit.
Both of you.
We’ll open another bottle.
Diane, get Emma a place setting.”
My mother didn’t move.
Alexander looked at me.
He didn’t ask my father where we should sit.
He asked me.
“Do you want to stay?”
Every face turned toward me.
That question changed the room.
For the first time all evening, the decision belonged to me.
My mother’s expression sharpened.
“Of course she’s staying.
This is Thanksgiving.”
I looked at the table.
Vanessa’s half-eaten pie sat beside a crystal glass.
Logan’s bourbon was open.
My father’s plate was full.
Candles burned low over a dinner I had spent hours preparing.
Then I looked at the kitchen.
A small plate sat near the stove with two cold pieces of turkey I’d put aside for myself and never touched.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Richard’s smile flickered.
“Emma, don’t be childish.
Come sit down.”
Alexander’s eyes moved to him.
