Page 94 of The Holiday Makeover

Chapter Thirty-One

Tate

Istood in my parents’ living room, watching the camera crew set up lights and equipment, wondering what the hell I was doing there.

I looked around the room that hadn’t changed much since my childhood. The same stone fireplace sat front and center with the same oversized mantel my mom redecorated whenever she got a whim. There was a new leather sofa that was almost identical to the one my dad used to sit on while watching game tape and telling me where I’d missed an opening.

But under the glare of the production lights, none of it felt like home.

Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time the place had felt like home.

In some ways, it had always felt more like a set than a home.

The hot lights, the cords taped to the hardwood, and the camera pointed toward the Christmas tree my mom had decorated with thousands of dollars’ worth of ornaments—only made that feeling worse.

It didn’t help that Quinton’s voice floated through the room, calm and overly polished, like he belonged there more than I did.

As I looked around, all I could think about was what it had cost me.

More like who it had cost me.

Rory.

That damn ring. It was a mistake from the very beginning.

Not that wanting to marry Rory was. That was the smartest idea I’d ever had. But buying her a flashy ring she would never have felt comfortable wearing—that was where I went wrong.

I should have hidden it better that morning, after I’d sat on the edge of the bed for an hour, staring at it and wondering what I was doing with my life.

I was tired of chasing. And what was I even chasing? Success? Approval? Happiness? If it was happiness, I was doing a poor job of it.

I was anything but happy.

I’d had happiness.

And I had just left her crying.

Again.

My parents entered the room together. But they might as well have been standing on opposite sides of the house.

The tension between them was thick enough to feel. Normally, Mom would have come in all smiles, smoothing her clothes, making sure the cameras caught her best side. But today, she looked resigned. Like she was only there because she’d promised to be.

Then her gaze landed on me. Concern etched itself across her face, and I tugged at my collar.

It was like she knew. Like she could see I’d just made a fatal mistake. Or maybe that the original mistake had finally come to its natural conclusion.

The one where I didn’t turn around two years ago. When I didn’t give Rory the ring. When I chose this.

For what?

So I could sit on the couch in my parents’ living room and let my dad tell a camera crew all the ways I had disappointed him? All the ways I still did?

Had I really left Rory for that?

I thought about the questions Quinton had sent me to prep for the interview.

What does it feel like to be back in Aspen Lake?