She flashed a sad smile at me. “I wish you two could just talk it out.”
Frowning, I said, “What for? I didn’t do anything wrong—except merely exist.” My experience as Maddox Cross, bastard son of Michigan State Representative Ryan Cross, had been one full of ups and downs, great expectations and unspoken demands. Broderick had resented me from the moment I’d entered their lives. That hadn’t changed despite my attempts to build a relationship through the years.
“I know that he asked Dad about you. He was concerned.”
That was laughable. I’d been to Michigan many times, but he was always conveniently out of town on business. He didn’t even show up for me during the hardest time of my life. “That’s hard to believe. But enough about him, how are you?”
She squeezed my hand. “I should be asking you that question.”
I closed my eyes. I’d spent the better part of the year running from the truth, and while I expected the subject to come up, I just didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m good,” I lied. “Hungry.”
Ryker folded his arms over his chest. “There are trays of food in the back. I can grab you something to—”
“You better not touch those damn trays,” Taylar ordered. “I didn’t spend hundreds of dollars to have a single chicken wing or a piece of fruit missing.”
I held up my hands. “Okay, okay. I still have half of my Jimmy Johns sandwich in my bag.”
I stood, stretching for a minute before I walked over to my bag. The front door swung open, and my father stepped into the bar. He greeted me with a smile before he approached me. We didn’t exchange words, he simply embraced me. And I let him.
A moment later, he pulled back, squeezing my shoulder. “Son, it’s good to see you.”
Swallowing past a hard lump in my throat, I nodded. “You too.”
“I’m happy you’re staying more than a few days this time,” Dad said. “Olivia and I thought it would be a treat to go skiing up north the first week of January.”
I eyed him skeptically. “Skiing?” I met the amused gazes of my siblings, then faced my father again. “Are you serious?”
Dad cracked up. “Nah, I’m just kidding.”
Several years ago, my father wouldn’t have joked around like this with me. My teenage years were marked with huge disagreements, due to my belief that he was an elitist snob who looked down on the working class from his ostentatious mansion. And, yes, I’d said that to him. On the other hand, Dad had often accused me of being too “woke” for my own good with no real idea of what it was like to truly struggle. He believed advanced degrees were essential for wealth. I chose not to attend a traditional four-year university. I resented his conservative mindset and, more times than not, we ended up on opposing sides of any argument.
The strain on our relationship had taken its toll on everyone—until we’d agreed to disagree and love each other regardless of our ideologies. And despite the distance between us and our philosophical differences, my father and I had worked hard to maintain a close relationship.
“We’re just happy you’re here,” Dad added, flashing a sad smile. “I know it’s been hard on you, losing your mother.”
My chest tightened as a familiar pang of sadness threatened to ruin my evening. I took a reflexive step back, dropping my gaze as tears filled my eyes. It wasn’t my first Christmas without my mother, but it was the first time I could feel it. She’d passed away last year, a couple of days before the holiday. I’d been so immersed in receiving guests, comforting my stepfather, and ensuring her wishes were followed that I hadn’t been able to fully give in to my own grief—until I did. It wasn’t pretty, and I didn’t want to go back to that dark place.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I asked Ryker for a bottle of water. I didn’t speak again until he brought it back. “Thanks,” I murmured.
I focused on the water, unable to look at my family, who were no doubt concerned for me. I couldn’t face their sad eyes or hear any more condolences. When I’d agreed to spend the holidays here in Michigan, I wanted something other than despair. I wanted to laugh, to drink, to enjoy life again.
“Son?” My father patted my back. “I—”
I cleared my throat. “It’s fine, Dad.” Finally, I met his waiting gaze. “Mom lived a beautiful life. She was happy and loved until the very end. That’s really all I wanted for her.” It was my go-to answer whenever someone brought up the most important woman in my life. Over the past several months, I’d learned the hard way that most people didn’t want to know my daily struggle or care to hear my overwhelming doubts about navigating the world without my mother. They just wanted to check off a box, make themselves feel better for checking in on me. I’d unpacked all of that in therapy, though. It had taken months, but I was finally at a place where I wasn’t so angry all the damn time. I was ready to live the life she’d always wanted for me.
“I love you, brother,” Tay said, her voice thick with unshed tears.
“Love you too.” I forced a smile her way. Glancing at my father, I asked, “I hope Olivia is making salmon croquettes for breakfast Christmas morning.”
Dad chuckled. “She’s making all of your favorites. Hopefully, you’ll relent and spend the night with us on Christmas Eve.”
“Maybe,” I said. “We’ll see.”
As cliché as it sounded, I’d sort of had the best of both worlds. Devoted parents, and two very presentbonusparents. While my mother and father were never an official couple, they’d always respected one another—and me. They’d never forced me to choose between them, even when my mother married again and wanted to move to South Carolina. Dad had never questioned my desire to go with my mother, and he’d never made me feel bad about my decision. He’d simply ensured I visited as often as I wanted.
We spent a few minutes catching up while I finished my water and my sandwich. It felt good to be there, to be surrounded by my family. Dad had planned to surprise Olivia with a trip to Dubai before his campaign for the U.S. House of Representatives kicked off. I listened as Ryker shared his next steps for the business. And I learned Taylar had finally quit her corporate job to pursue her love of event planning full-time. Tonight’s event was her inaugural event. The concept was genius, designed to match women and men with their true loves, and hopefully, snag their business for the future wedding.
“You’re right on time,” Taylar mused. “I can use some extra hands setting up the rest of the décor.”
