“Let them.” The voice is Blair’s as he appears in the doorway. He grins at me, winks once, and drops the towel around his waist before stepping in on my other side.
It is unquestionably the hottest shower that I’ve ever had, and certainly the longest.
No one says anything when we come down for dinner, but I catch Astor looking purposefully down at his plate the entire time and refuses to answer any questions with anything other than a one-word response.
Rather than a traditional dining table, the Rashnikovs have a massive round table set in the middle of the kitchen. Even though the kitchen is all stainless steel, crystal chandeliers, and high-grade marble—it adds a homey, family touch. I see why they host this dinner every year for Blair’s friends. This huge house would be empty between just the three of them.
While Heath and Darla are chatting a little about the big dinner to come tomorrow, which they’ve hired caterers for instead of slaving over it themselves, I lean over to Wills and tap him on the shoulder.
“Why don’t you celebrate with your family?” I know he has a large one, and though I’ve only been in homes once or twice that even acknowledged the holiday, I imagine it’s the sort of thing you’re supposed to do with big families.
“Actually,” he says, “We used to all do them together. Our families are really close. This year we decided to keep it small.”
Something about how he says it, the way his eyes dart briefly over to Astor, tells me this was his idea.
“It’s not because of me, is it?”
Wills has gone back to shoving prime rib in his face. In fact, now I think of it, I’m rarely around Wills at a time when he isn’t shoving something in his face.
“No, I don’t think so,” he says. “I think it has more to do with her.”
He points his fork at Victoria across the table.
“What?” she snaps, jabbing her own fork into her meat so she can push it around her plate some more. The opposite of Wills, I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen her eat anything.
“Nothing.” Wills grins at her with food in his teeth, and she looks away, disgusted.
Heath takes the opportunity to turn the conversation toward me. “Teddy, we’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Blair talks about you often.”
So I’ve been told.
“I’m really glad to be here. Thank you so much for having me,” I tell him with an earnest smile.
He leans forward on one elbow and looks at me slightly puzzled, and I see Darla rest a hand on his arm, as if trying to subtly stop him. “I am curious about one thing however … which one of these boys are you actually dating?”
Blair and Wills both speak up immediately.
“She’s dating me,” both say simultaneously, and then they laugh a little shyly.
Blair stretches an arm over my stiff shoulders and clarifies it for his parents. “We’re both dating her. Together.”
Astor clenches his jaw and sets his glass of water down on the table heavily, and we look at him in surprise, but he doesn’t look back at us.
“I wondered,” Darla says, shooting me a coy smile.
“You must be quite the catch.” Heath shakes his head, but he’s also grinning. “I think we taught
those boys to share a little too well.”
I feel a warm glow inside me, and I just smile and glance at my boys. I adore them, and I know how lucky I am to have them both. It might not be traditional … but neither am I.
The conversation takes many more turns after that, but Astor and Victoria grow increasingly distant. After dinner we all settle in to watch a movie, but when Victoria tries to sit with Astor, he curls himself into an armchair and plants a big bucket of popcorn in his lap so that there’s no place for her.
I’ve never been much of a movie-watcher, so at some point I fall asleep. I wake up confused and have no idea what’s going on with the movie … so I decide to excuse myself to bed a little early. I don’t think anyone can blame me for being exhausted. I hiked up that hill to sled down it more times than anyone else, and I drank more than my fair share of the hot chocolate … amongst other things.
Someone’s laid out a lacy sheer nightgown on the bed when I get back, and I slip into it. I don’t let myself look at the label, or else all I’m going to be thinking about is how it’s wasted on my sorry ass. It’s definitely Blair’s pick, without question. It’s all sweetheart neckline and lace; romantic and bohemian, but still chic. If it were up to Wills, I’d probably sleep in a track suit. Astor—something sleek and sexy.
Astor.