“But grumpy-sunshine is my favorite,” Rachel moaned dramatically.
“It has to be your favorite, or you never would have married me,” Isaac teased, then squeezed her shoulder. “I’m more into fated mates.”
“You all read romance?” I asked hesitantly.
“You think you’re the only one who knew about Nanna’s stash?” Elijah asked.
“Please,” Rachel pleaded, “put an uncomfortable pregnant lady out of her misery with a grumpy-sunshine love story, would you?”
I warmed to her request. It hurt less to revisit, knowing I was telling it to my family. “It’s not a grumpy-sunshine —“
Rachel smacked Elijah’s shoulder. “Way to get my hopes up.”
“It’s a Grinchy Sunshine,“ I said. “Plus a love pact, homecoming, and twin beds pushed together to make a king.”
“Oh my god, only one bed,” Elijah swooned as Leah climbed on his lap to get closer to the snacks. “Now you have to tell us.”
Chapter 42
Alex
The goddamn phone pierced my skull like a jackhammer. Most of the liquid surrounding my brain was probably alcohol, creating the neural equivalent of a pickle. And pickles were fucking disgusting.
For the first time ever, I was disappointed to see my brother’s name. The previous day came flooding back: the partnership contingent on Nick’s Hollywood connections, drowning my sorrows with Victoria, then indulging in a trip to the late-night taco truck for carnitas burritos and …
Victoria and I did shots of tequila with the line cook, didn’t we?
And I scream-sang ‘Feliz Fucking Navidad’ until the neighbors yelled out their windows to shut up because it sounded like a cat was dying, didn’t I?!
Well, if I had to suffer through this miserable hangover, I might as well drag Nick down with me. My greeting emerged as a guttural croak.
“Oh shit, you look like garbage.” Second time I’d been told that this month.
I grunted, desperately wanting to empty my bladder but unsure my muscles would function. I sat up in bed as the room spun. The contents of my gut sloshed, demanding escape. I raced to the bathroom, giving in to my stomach’s plea. When I’d wiped my face with a wet towel and sat down on the floor, I lifted the phone.
Nick’s expression shifted to genuine concern. “What was that?”
“Uhhhhh … MacAllen, Chilean sea bass, Dom Perignon, crème brûlée, street tacos, and your precious Elysian tequila.”
He winced. “Sounds like one hell of a night.”
“Mallory would use the term hot mess,” I ran a hand down my face before locking eyes with my brother. “They offered me partnership … running their new Entertainment Division.”
“Next time I’m in LA, you can fly down and —”
“That’s the problem,” I interrupted, growing angrier with each word. My voice rasped like sandpaper. “They expect me to use you. They don’t care about the years I’ve dedicated or the quality of my work. They'll exploit you to line their pockets. They don’t give a damn about me, or you, or Victoria.”
After a moment of restraint, Nick asked, “What happened to Victoria?”
“They aren’t promoting her, ever. Say she isn’t partner material,” I made mocking air quotes, “even though she’s their best lawyer. They think that all women backslide when they have a family, even though she’s never taken a sick day, while I disappeared for a month.” My shoulders slumped. “And they expect her to put her career aside for mine.”
Just like I expected of Grace.
The weight of my hangover brought my guard down enough to see the truth. Hamilton and Houghton belittled Victoria’s ambition … and I had done the same to Grace. I had dismissed the life she had built, the jobs she loved, and the family she found. My family.
I’d been miserable before her and was miserable without her.
I would have dragged her down, a weight around her ankle.
The realization sent me back to my knees to empty my stomach.
“Fuuuuuck me,” I groaned, head still dangling over the toilet. The foul stench made me gag, but I deserved to retch. “I tried to buy her happiness, like her life was replaceable.”
“We’re not talking about Victoria, are we?” The bathroom acoustics made Nick’s kind voice echo inside the porcelain. “Do you want to tell me what happened with Grace?”
I started to snap that I’d figure it out, but when I saw Nick’s empathetic gaze, I asked, “How much time do you have?”
Grace
“That’s the last time we talked,” I said, feeling the weight of the whole story — the weight of Alex’s love — crashing into me again.
They'd sat enrapt as I recounted Bruce’s heart attack and Alex dressing up like Santa and the pinkie promise and baking apple pies and cutting down the tree myself — Isaac offered that it could be my job from now on — and Christmas morning with Ruby and seeing Mama and New Year’s Eve.
The retelling had torn me apart, dabbing the tears with tissues that Isaac had distributed. Rachel started crying when I got to the tree farm — she blamed her pregnancy hormones, but Isaac shot a look at Elijah that told me this was normal. My tears didn’t begin until Christmas, and Elijah held strong until the the sidewalk dance on New Year’s Eve. Even Isaac got misty-eyed when I'd searched for them while skiing.
“But what was your counteroffer?” Rachel asked.
