Page 41 of Valentine Nook (The Valentine Nook Chronicles #1)
For two minutes, no one speaks. The only sounds are the knocking of silverware against china as vegetables are scooped onto plates, people deciding between chicken or beef, and Max hungrily chomping away.
I have yet to put anything on my plate, but I’m getting a perverse pleasure in watching everyone eat.
Finally, Clemmie swallows her mouthful and sits back. “I think this is the best roast I’ve ever had.”
“Are you allowed to say that if you’ve cooked it?” I ask.
“Yes, I think so.” She picks up her wine and turns to her nephew. “Maxy, what do you think?”
“I love it.” He’s taking another scoopful of potatoes, which has Hendricks shaking his head in dismay and moving the rest from his reach.
“Hey, Maxy, yours is the only vote I’m looking for.” I laugh.
“It’s the only one that ever counts,” Lando adds, turning to me with a wink.
Miles pats his stomach. “How have I only just discovered I have a neighbor who cooks like this, and she’s leaving?”
I pick up my wine, ignoring the lead weight I feel inside me. “It was Clemmie really, but I made the pie for later.”
“Where are you going?” Max asks.
I smile at him, taking comfort in Lando’s hand resting on my thigh. “Back to America, where my home is.”
Although now I’m not quite sure that’s true.
His little face scrunches up, and he leans forward. “But how will you kiss Uncle Lando in America?”
Lando splutters next to me, and I pray my cheeks are already rosy enough from cooking for anyone to see me blushing. Everyone else is openly laughing.
“A question we all want to know the answer to, Maxy.” Alex snickers.
“Al . . .”
“It’s valid. How will we all cope without our resident thespian now that we know she can cook too?” Miles adds, ignoring Lando’s warning tone. “I vote she stays.”
“Milo, you’re dramatic enough for everyone,” Lando snaps. “If it were between you and Holiday for an award, you’d win. ”
I snort out a giggle because it’s true. I might be the professional actress, but Miles is the drama queen.
“You think?” Miles clasps his hands to his chest and gives me an idea.
“Wait,” I order, rushing out of my seat and up the stairs two at a time to my bedroom. “One sec.”
At the back of the closet is the box Ashley sent, which I never unpacked. Ripping off the tape, I ease out the biggest of the leather presentation cases and run back downstairs.
I hold it out to Miles while everyone else looks on curiously.
“Here. For tonight only, this can be yours.”
He cautiously removes it from my hands, placing it on the table in front of him. Pushing the clasp, Miles lifts the lid and peers inside. His eyes flick to mine, one thick dark brow raised.
Gripping his fist around the statue, he eases it out. “I’d like to thank the Academy?—”
Clemmie gasps, her hands shooting forward. “Holy shit, your Oscar. Miles, gimme.”
He snatches it out of her reach. “Nope. It’s mine. Holiday gave it to me. You all heard her.”
“Milo, come on. Let me have a turn.”
“I have a BAFTA and a Golden Globe upstairs too, if either of those work.”
Clemmie’s eyes widen. “Ooh, Golden Globe.”
Laughing, I run back upstairs and retrieve the rest, then place them on the table. I watch everyone fight over who gets what first, and it’s so much fun. A familiarity about it reminds me of my own family—the bickering, the warmth, the love.
Not that Lando could move to America anyway because he has Burlington to run, but I can’t imagine him ever leaving his family.
Even the idea of us meeting somewhere in the middle for a month at a time seems far-fetched as I sit here and zone out.
I’m once again thinking about the list of options I mentally pulled together before Lando woke up this morning and strike half of them off.
“You’re so talented, Holiday. You really deserved these,” Clemmie says, holding the BAFTA mask up to her face.
“Thank you.” I smile at her, but it’s fake. I want to cry.
“I agree. New York was a masterpiece.” Lando takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “And you were pivotal.”
My head spins around. “You watched it?”
He grins from ear to ear. He’s as proud of himself as I was when we finished cooking lunch. “I’ve watched everything you’ve done. Took me a month, but I watched them all.”
My mouth drops. I’m speechless. I have no words. They’re all gone. He’s never once mentioned it. Not even a hint.
“My favorite is the one where you’re dating that guy from Boston, but you love rival baseball teams.” Clemmie giggles. “Best romcom ever.”
“Nope.” Lando shakes his head. “Hated that one. I like New York.”
“Only because there’s no kissing in it,” Miles shoots out, before adding, “It wasn’t my favorite.”
“What’s your next project?” Alex asks, filling everyone’s glasses.
No one notices how much he’s pouring because all eyes are on me for my answer. Even Clemmie’s, and she already knows everything.
“Um . . . well, I recently signed a beauty campaign that begins in the new year. I don’t know where the first shoot is yet, though. But acting-wise, there are no movies right now. I want to try my hand at theater, so my agent is looking for something suitable.”
I hope she is. She messaged me to say something potential had come to her and she’d let me know once she had more information, but that was over a week ago.
Under the table, Lando squeezes my hand .
“Well, count us in for the first night.” Alex smiles, though he’s looking at Lando.
“And in other news,” Miles says with a grin so wide his dimples disappear into crevices, “did you hear Al’s been on a shopping spree? He’s bought Haven’s place.”
From Clemmie’s gasp, I can tell this is new news to her. It’s new news to me too, but I’m not quite as invested in the story. Everyone’s heads turn to Alex, whose smile has turned to a glare directed at Lando.
“I didn’t say a word,” he protests with his hands held high. “I swear.”
Alex runs his fingers along the edge of his wineglass and lets out a resigned sigh. “Whatever, I don't care.”
“I support it. That place will make a great yard. Get some winter polo in over there.”
“We're not turning it into a yard. And I didn't buy it for the company. I bought it privately, for me. Or will have once the paperwork goes through.”
Hendricks lets out a low whistle down at the other end of the table. “Have you heard from Haven? Does she know you’re buying it?”
Alex shakes his head. “Nope. And can we please change the subject?”
“Sure thing.” Miles turns his attention to his nephew. “Maxy, what do you want to talk about?”
Max taps his little chubby finger against his chin while he thinks. “Um, Hamish chewed Granny’s shoe, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”
For a second, it’s silent enough that you can only hear the raindrops.
Then Alex bursts out laughing, followed by Max, and like dominoes, everyone goes until we’re all laughing.
And that’s how the rest of the afternoon continues, through more bottles of wine, apple pie, and all three tubs of ice cream until the sun goes to bed and the rain stops .
I have a feeling we could have gone for longer if it hadn’t been Max’s bedtime. Because they all came together in one car, they have to leave together too. By the time we say goodbye, I know it’s not just Lando I’m going to miss dearly when I leave this place.
Lando closes the front door and wraps his arms around my waist. “Bravo, Hollywood. I can’t believe you survived that and came out unscathed. In fact, I think my siblings would happily trade me for you.”
“I don’t know about that.” I chuckle. “I think they like you a lot.”
“I think I like you a lot. Even more than I did this morning.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nods, and I’m immediately taken back to what we started but never finished.
The moment I peer up at him, I’m done thinking about how sad I feel or what I’m leaving behind. For now, I need to live in the present and keep my promise of picking up where we left off.
“Hey, I love your sweater,” I say, tracing a pattern on the front of his chest.
He glances down at the black ribbed cashmere. “ This ? Um, thanks.”
Sinking my teeth into my lip, I hit him with my best fluttering lashes and drop my tone. “Yeah, and I’ll love it even more on my floor later.”
A flash of Lando’s baby blues is followed by a panty-melting smirk. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”
“How pre?—”
My question turns to a squeal as Lando throws me over his shoulder and makes for the stairs.
“I’m about to show you, and this time, no one’s interrupting us.”