Page 4 of Theirs for the Holidays

I jump, cringing internally before shooting Lennox an apologetic smile and hurrying into the living room.

My mother keeps her living room entertainment-ready at all times, and to my surprise, the couch and loveseat are both full of people. I blink, and then realize it’s because Sawyer and Rhett are there too. All three of Andrew’s brothers are in town.

That’s a first in a long while.

None of them have lived in Sweetwater Lake for at least five years. Lennox never moved back after his honorable discharge from the army, and Sawyer left shortly after that. Rhett was the last to leave, moving away not long after Andrew and I started dating. But now they’re all here, looking like they’ve been living completely different lives.

Where Lennox is all straight backed and neat, Rhett is much more rugged. Even now he looks a bit like a mountain man with his thick brown hair and beard. He’s more muscular than any of his brothers, which is apparent from the way he’s sitting with his arms folded, his biceps straining the limits of the nice flannel shirt he’s wearing. He’s sitting on the couch with Sawyer, although there’s a good distance between them.

Sawyer is the second oldest of the four of them, just a year and a half younger than Lennox. He’s the tallest, and his gaze is stormy and intense. There’s a faint scar along his jawline, but that just draws attention to how nice of a jaw it is. He has the same dark hair as his brothers, and he rivals Rhett for being muscular, although his muscles are more chiseled than Rhett’s. They both look out of place sitting on my mother’s expensive leather couch.

Not that Mom seems to notice. She’s in her element, holding court over the room talking about the wedding. Andrew and Isabelle had only been together a little over a year when he proposed ten months ago, and their upcoming nuptials have been my mother’s favorite topic of conversation ever since then.

“And of course we need to see about the flowers,” she’s saying, as if Rhett and Sawyer care at all. “It’s a winter wedding,so some things are traditional, but we can be a little different if we want to.” She laughs, like she’s just told some great joke.

Lennox comes into the room after me, and I see him glance at his brothers. The other two barely look at him, and that combined with the very deliberate space left on the couch between Rhett and Sawyer speaks to the cold vibe that’s going on with the three of them. It’s palpable, even without any words spoken.

I know there was some kind of falling out with Andrew’s older brothers after they started a security company together, but I don’t know what it was. The last time I saw the three of them was when they were back in Sweetwater Lake for their mother’s funeral three years ago. After that, something happened between them. Whatever it was, it was clearly bad enough that they don’t get along anymore.

I have to wonder if this is the first time they’ve been in the same room since then.

For all my mother was complaining about me not being in the living room with everyone else, she barely acknowledges me when I’m there. She just keeps talking about the catering for the wedding and the way the arch Isabelle and Andrew will be standing under should be decorated with fairy lights so that it looks more magical.

“It would be nice to be a fairy princess for my wedding,” Isabelle says, smiling brightly. “I think I deserve it, right?” She laughs, and Andrew wraps an arm around her.

“Of course,” Mom says, smiling back. “I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than my daughter. We’ll talk to the wedding planner and see what we can make happen. I know it’s getting close to the date, but a few last minute changes won’t hurt anything.” And then she’s off again, talking about all the other things they could add.

I just keep my head down and wait for her to finish.

When she does, it’s to beam at the room at large and clap her hands. “Alright, well, now that we’re all here, dinner will be ready soon. Shall we head into the dining room?” She’s only ever in this good a mood when she’s getting to play hostess to a captive audience.

Rhett and Sawyer push themselves up from the couch, giving each other and Lennox a wide berth. The rest of us follow into the dining room to be seated.

My mom insisted on one of those long wooden tables with the elegantly carved wooden chairs when she and my dad were redoing their house years ago. The table is beautiful, all mahogany wood that always smells faintly of citrussy wood polish even under the crisp white tablecloth it sits under. The chairs match, with elegant velvet cushions, which Mom always switches out in different colors depending on the season.

A chandelier hangs over the table, the lights twinkling through the crystal drops that hang from it, refracting little rainbows across the room.

As beautiful as it is, all I can really think of when I see this room is the awkward dinners I’ve had to sit through, feeling like I shouldn’t eat too much and should make myself invisible.

I can already tell this is going to be one of those dinners.

I end up between Rhett and Sawyer, who take their seats first, leaving a space between them very noticeably. Their dad is squeezed in on Sawyer’s other side. Lennox is on the other side of the table, putting Andrew in the middle between him and Isabelle. And as usual, my parents sit at the heads of the table.

Mom is still chattering, going back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, bringing out plates of food that smell distractingly good. There’s roast chicken with lemon and rosemary, and a big platter of buttery potatoes. Rolls and green beans and a dish of glazed carrots. It’s funny because Mom only cooks like this for guests.

She catches me looking at the food and gives me a look, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from rolling my eyes. It’s like she thinks I’m going to launch myself across the table to get to the potatoes before they’re even served.

There’s just nothing else to focus on that’s not steeped in awkwardness. What am I supposed to do, stare at Andrew and Isabelle who are whispering into each other’s ears across the table?

I glance over at my dad, sitting quietly at his end of the table. He seems content to watch everyone else, and I smile at him when he glances my way. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, Vi,” he says, smiling back. “How’s the bakery? Everything good?”

I nod. “Yeah, everything’s really good. Busy because of the season, but you know?—”

“Dennis,” Mom cuts in, cutting me off. “Help me bring the drinks out, please.”

The please is ornamental, of course.