Page 76 of Beautiful Disaster

“We’ll be polite, Jinx. Don’t worry,” Aleks says, grabbing some potatoes and scrubbing them.

I’m totally worried because they’re very protective, even if I don’t want or need them to be. I love them for it, but I don’t want anyone or anything to mess up what I have with Mason.

“You must really like him to be this stressed. I’m happy for you.”

Aleks isn’t wrong. I do really like him. More than I thought I would. I just want his Thanksgiving to be perfect. “Give me something to do,” I tell them. “I just need to be busy or something.”

Julien sautés the onions and celery, sprinkling in more dried sage and salt. “Relax. We won’t embarrass you, and the dinner will be great, or at least decent. We learned a lot from last year.”

A snort escapes me. “God, what a mess that was. The turkey was drier than the Sahara, and we burned three pies.”

“The mashed potatoes were good, though,” Aleks chimes in, chuckling.

“We’ll do it right this time.” Julien slides cucumbers and tomatoes my way. “Slice those up for the salad.”

As I wrap up chopping a cucumber, Foxy and Tink come walking in. “What can we do?” Foxy says.

“Are the horses fed?”

“Yep,” Tink says, plopping onto a stool next to me at the kitchen island.

“Chickens?”

“Yep.”

Julien nods his head toward the fridge. “Cool, then I could use some help with green beans. Wash your hands thoroughly, then wash the beans and snap the tops off.”

Bubble Gum, a gray-and-orange calico Manx, which looks more pink than orange, jumps on the counter, looking for treats. “Oh, no, you don’t, Bubbles,” I scold.

Before I can grab her, Aleks lifts her into his arms and nuzzles her fluffy neck before setting her down. “Go play with your friends,” he says. Since she doesn’t get any treats, she gives us a baleful glare before she walks away, her stubby tail in the air.

Good thing most of the cats live in the stables with the horses. It’s chaos with all the animals living here.

I go back to chopping, and soon we’re a well-oiled unit, moving about the kitchen getting everything done. We work well as a team. After two and a half years, we learned to live with each other and work together, to be self-sufficient, and not to rely on anyone other than the experts who take care of the animals. Hell, even Julien has taken up learning how to make repairs and build things around the ranch.

I love being independent. Having control over your own life is fucking freeing. None of us will ever truly forget the abuse and pain, but we learned to find our happiness in this small part of the world.

We’re always worried about Julien the most because he’d been so sure he wanted to die. Making a plan for over a year to do just that was a serious commitment. But in my eyes, he’s thriving and happy.

Julien removes the vegetables from the stove and pours the mixture into a bowl filled with dried breadcrumbs. “Oh, and I sent your payments to your bank yesterday morning. Double-check to make sure you got them,” he tells us.

“You don’t have to keep paying us.” I have more money than I know what to do with. He gave me ten million just for being fucking Aleks’ friend and going on the trip with them from LA. I hadn’t said no at the time, thinking I was going to move on from here, but I love it and them. “At least for me, I have so much money.”

Foxy and Tink nod in agreement. They also got a lot of money when they arrived here, in case they wanted to start lives of their own, but they also chose to stay.

Julien just shrugs. “You’ve earned it. You all work hard around here, and you should be paid. This is your home, too. We all contribute to the business.”

“Thanks,” I mumble. God, why do I have to be so weird about being grateful?

Once I’ve finished the cucumbers, I start on the tomatoes. “So, I was thinking…” I start.

“Don’t let that hurt your brain,” snorts Aleks.

I stick out my tongue at him, making everyone laugh. “Anyway… I was wondering if I could bring Mason to the wedding. I mean, I haven’t asked him yet. He may dump my ass before then. No one sticks around. But, I dunno, I just thought I’d ask first. Maybe he’ll still be here in January. I mean, he’s Italian. He might like it. Well, he could’ve been already. He hasn’t said, not that I asked. I should probably do that. Or maybe he won’t want to be there. I just thought it’d be kind of cool if he could come.”

Fuck, what the hell was that word vomit?

Everyone’s staring at me like I’ve sprouted another head. I look down and focus on the tomatoes.