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“Great party, as usual,” Kennedy said, waving her hand in the air.
“You know your uncle. Any excuse for a party.”
Uncle Kevin raised his drink in our direction then stepped over to my side. “How’s it going at the office?”
“Good,” I said, and he pursed his lips, studying in that way he had. As if checking to see I was healthy and whole. After I had passed the bar, I’d started at the Philly office, where he was managing partner, but I felt like he was constantly looking over my shoulder, treating me like a porcelain doll. I needed to get away, so I transferred to West Chester.
“Did you talk to your aunt?” he asked, pointing to where his wife, my aunt Bea, stood with my cousins, chatting and laughing about something, and I nodded.
“Yeah. She invited me for Christmas at your house.”
“You’re going to join us, right?”
With my sister and grandmother talking quietly, I shook my head. “Since Kennedy’s back, we’ll probably hang out.”
“You sure?”
I nodded again.
“If you change your mind, it’s an open invitation.”
“Thank you,” I said, and he turned away with a squeeze to my shoulder as Kennedy and Nan were in the middle of a conversation about getting her a Netflix account.
“It’s so easy to use,” Kennedy said. “There’s this historical romance I think you’d really like about a woman who travels back in time in Scotland, and, oh my god, Nan, you should see this guy.”
Nan smiled and took Kennedy’s hand in her own. “That does sound nice, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”
“Well, you could always just use Taylor’s account,” my sister suggested, and I thumped her on the arm. Although, I shrugged at my grandmother.
“You can if you want.”
“You two are so sweet,” she said, “but, as I said, that isn’t something I need.”
“No oneneedseight seasons ofGreat British Bake Off,” Kennedy said with a laugh. “It’s self-care.”
“Speaking of self-care,” Nan said with a pointed eyebrow raise in my direction. “Dean Hargrove.”
“Those two things have nothing to do with each other,” I squeaked, feeling my face flush as my sister’s interested gaze toggled between me and our grandmother.
“I know you think he’s your enemy. But he isn’t. He’s your coworker and quite a brilliant lawyer.”
“He’s an ass,” I said, and when she lifted her brow dubiously, I went on, “He’s conceited, he’s rude, he’s—”
“I’ve never experienced him to be either of those things,” Nan interjected primly.
“Because he’s too busy trying to crawl up your—”
“Taylor.” Nan stopped me with a warning in her eyes.
“Your back pocket,” I said, backtracking while Kennedy snickered.
Nan shrugged. “He’s always been very sweet to me, and there’s nothing wrong with having a drive to succeed. You’re the same way.”
“Yeah.” I extended my hand to the whole of the party. “Of course I am. I come from a family of lawyers.”
“So then, what’s the problem between you two?”
I didn’t have an answer besides that we had never gotten along. We’d met at Temple Law School, where we had been in the same mandatory yet moot 1L course. Unfortunately, we were paired up to create a PowerPoint presentation on different provisions of a regulation. The first strike was when he showed up late after we agreed on a time to meet. Strike two was when he told me to “relax.” Strike three was mansplaining the assignment to me.
