Page 83 of The Naughty or Nice Deal

“They already ate,” Lydia explains when I look around. “They’re holed up in the office working. They said they’d be in there all day.”

“I’ll have to make sure they get lunch then, or they’ll forget to eat,” I say aloud, trying not to let my disappointment show.

Charles makes a disapproving noise. Not at my offer to bring them lunch, I think, but at the men spending their entire vacation day working. I try not to bristle defensively on their behalf. While I hope they’d appreciate my support, getting into an argument with Ford’s father probably wouldn’t be smart.

I serve myself breakfast while Lydia chatters about the party yesterday—all the people she got to catch up with and the gossip she heard. I nod along, only half listening.

Of course the men have to work. They made it clear to the family that this was a working holiday, and I wouldn’t expect anything less from them. They’re all workaholics, and there’s this massive deal on the horizon.

But we only have so much time together. Christmas break isn’t going to last forever. When it ends, we’ll go our separate ways. I’ll leave them behind permanently. I’ll never get another chance like this in my life, and I want to make the most of it.

I’m an adult, though. I can handle the fact that we have adult responsibilities. We’re not teenagers who can only think about our hormones and ignore everything else that matters.

“I was thinking we could just have a movie day?” Lydia asks as we finish eating. “Mom wants us to have family game night later, but until then the day’s ours. I already finished wrapping my presents, so…”

“That sounds really nice,” I tell her. I haven’t had a proper day off in years—not one I could actually enjoy, anyway. Usually I’d be so exhausted I’d just collapse and sleep, which isn’t the same thing at all.

I put on a cute skirt and a cozy sweater before joining Lydia in what she calls the film room. It’s essentially a mini theater with a projection screen covering an entire wall and ridiculously comfortable chairs, couches, and bean bags scattered around.

I examine myself in the mirror briefly before heading downstairs. I look cute and comfortable but put-together, with my hair pulled back loosely and tumbling over my shoulders. I always try to look nice and fashionable.

But now I find myself looking at my reflection differently. I try to see what these three men supposedly see in me. I think about what Hayden said, how all three of them act like I should obviously know how attractive I am.

I still look like the same old Maeve to me. Pretty enough, I suppose, but not drop-dead gorgeous or devastatingly sexy.

Maybe I need to start being kinder to myself. Try to see myself through their eyes. After all, none of them are the type to lie about something like attraction, and they could have any woman they wanted. If they want me, it must be because they genuinely think I’m worth their time.

I head downstairs, still processing this shift in perspective. It’s so strange, having your entire self-image challenged like this. I feel like someone just convinced me that the sky has always been orange. I need time to adjust to this new idea—this version of Maeve Keller as someone beautiful and desirable.

Lydia has everything set up when I arrive, including soft blankets and an array of snacks. It’s so nice to just curl up and relax like we’re kids having a sleepover. I haven’t done this in ages, especially not with a friend. Allison and I mostly just grab drinks when we have time—it’s all our schedules will allow.

“Too bad the others can’t join us,” I say as the movie starts, unable to stop myself.

“I know. I used to let it really bother me. I’m Ford’s sister—we only get so much time together, and even on vacation he’s still working? I used to get so frustrated. I’d interrupt him constantly, come up with excuses to bother him just to get his attention.”

I can picture a much younger Lydia doing exactly that. There’s about ten years between her and Ford, so she would have been this adorable little pest trying to get her big brother’s attention.

“But…” Lydia shrugs. “Now that I’m older, I understand this is what it takes to run such a successful company the way they do. I’m proud of him. And he does make time for family. It’s not like he’s skipping all our activities.”

“Very true.” Obviously I can’t tell her that what I really want is for her brother to be upstairs with me right now doing decidedly non-family-friendly things. She might assume that since Ford is supposedly my fiancé, but I’m not about to say it out loud no matter how many jokes Lydia makes.

“I think in a way, work is his version of adult fun,” Lydia laughs. “Because at the end of the day, he’s doing it with his two best friends. Scheming together the way they used to when they were younger. Except instead of pranks and mischief, it’s acquiring companies and closing major deals.”

I nod along, keeping my eyes fixed on the screen. She’s right—they are best friends, and they genuinely enjoy their work. Ford, Hayden, and Gabriel aren’t workaholics out of obligation or duty. They have fun with what they do.

And they’re best friends who do everything together.

Sure, theoretically that might include sharing a woman, but what if it means something different? What if sharing me could be the thing that drives a wedge between them?

The question haunts me throughout both movies we watch. I try to stay focused on the screen, but it keeps creeping back into my thoughts, especially during any romantic scenes.

My vague plan of teasing the men when I bring them lunch—flirting, maybe even persuading them to put work aside for a quick stress-relief break—evaporates.

I still make them lunch, but I convince Lydia to deliver it, telling her that Ford will be happy to see her during a quick break from work.

We make our own lunch and return to watching movies, including some Disney films I haven’t seen in forever. It’s nice to watch something and pretend I had a proper childhood—parents who managed money responsibly and showered me with attention and love. We watch Cinderella, and I do my best to hide the lump in my throat from Lydia.

My parents were never abusive like the stepmother, thank god, but it does feel like I’ve been working my ass off for very little reward all this time. And now I’m at the ball, just like Cinderella. She only went to have a good time—everyone forgets that. She had no idea the man she danced with was a prince. She just wanted one fun night out.