Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(85)

“How are things going with your grandparents?” he asked.

She didn’t want to talk about the bad part of last night. Better to go with something more general. “I feel like I’ve been playing dress-up. I keep waiting for someone to come up, point at me, and scream ‘imposter.’”

“You are the Sinclairs’ granddaughter. You’re not an imposter.”

“Literally, that’s true. But I’m not the granddaughter everyone else expects me to be. I’m not Blue through and through.”

“So you’re not true blue?” He laughed.

She shook her head. “That was bad. But yes, I’m not a true Blue. At the Christmas Eve ball, I kept sneaking off to the bathroom so I didn’t have to sit at the table by myself while everyone else socialized with people they’ve known all their lives. It sucked.”

“What sucks is that your grandparents didn’t see that coming and arrange for someone to keep you company.” He reached over and grabbed her hand. “I would’ve volunteered.”

That meant a lot. “Thank you. If it wasn’t Christmas Eve, I would’ve called and asked you to come save me.”

“You can call me at any time, Christmas Eve or not. I’ll always be there for you.”

He spoke so passionately, she believed him. Would her grandparents let her bring Valmont as her date somewhere? If she asked they’d probably claim it wasn’t appropriate, which meant next time she wouldn’t ask. She’d just show up with him and hope her grandparents played nice.

“How was your Christmas Eve?” She didn’t want today to be all about her. The world didn’t revolve around her. It would be nice to get lost in someone else’s life for a while.

“My grandmother is still the reigning champion of ping-pong. I swear the woman puts drugs in the lasagna to slow the rest of us down. Either that or she takes something to speed herself up.” He grinned. “She might give you a hard time.”

“What? Why?”

“She wanted you to stop by on Christmas Eve. I told her you weren’t available, but she doesn’t like taking no for an answer.”

Light filtered through the trees as they came to a less dense area of the forest. The scent of evergreens filled the air. She took a deep breath. “It smells like Christmas.”

They chatted easily on the rest of the drive to Dragon’s Bluff. Feeling comfortable around Valmont, after feeling so out of place for days, was a relief.

When they pulled onto the main road, Bryn admired all the Christmas decorations, until she realized each store had the same wreath in the exact same place. “What’s with the Stepford decorations?”

“What do you mean?”

“Every store already has the same-colored awning and the same style of lettering, and now they have the same wreath in the exact spots on each door.”

“The official line is that uniformity creates harmony. The truth is your Directorate is anal about everything being perfect and exactly the way it has been for the last one hundred and fifty years.” He pulled into the lot behind Fonzoli’s. The scent of garlic and Italian herbs mingled with the sweet scent of vanilla.

“Is your grandmother baking cookies?”

Valmont opened his door and then came around to open hers. “My grandmother is baking every cookie known to man. When I left she was working on Italian wedding cake cookies.”

“Are those the little round balls covered in powdered sugar?”

“Yes. She rolls some of them in cocoa just to add variety.”

Yum. “I think your grandmother and I will get along just fine.”

“She’ll love you, because unlike some of the other females who come for Christmas, you have a healthy appetite.”

Right on cue, her stomach growled. “Take me to the food. I’m ready to bond with your grandmother.”

Valmont kept his arm around her shoulders as they bypassed the back entrance to the kitchen to a part of the building she’d never visited. There was a covered front porch sporting a Christmas tree with twinkling lights.

“Is this your grandparents’ house?”

He nodded. “Members of the Fonzoli family have lived here for generations.” They went up the front steps and he held the door open for her. She entered into a living room where no one paid the slightest attention to her. Two younger boys played a video game on the TV. A girl sat on the navy-blue couch with a cat on her lap as she read a book.

They continued into the house. Halfway down the hall, a man who looked like an older version of Valmont greeted her with a grin. “You must be Bryn.”

“I am.”

“Bryn, this is my dad.”

“Nice to meet you.” Bryn took the hand he offered and shook it.

“Nice to meet you, too.” He leaned toward Valmont. “I need to go pick up your mom’s gift. If she asks where I am, tell her I went to bring in some firewood.”

“Okay.” Valmont shook his head as his dad walked away. “Before I left to come pick you up, my mom sneaked out to grab my father’s gift.”

“That’s cute.” Seeing married people who actually liked each other was a rarity.

Valmont placed his hand on her lower back and propelled her forward through another door into the dining room. A large oak plank table with every type of chair pulled up to it practically groaned with food. Lasagna, garlic bread, turkey, sweet potatoes, green beans, and a half dozen other dishes sat in the middle of the table. It looked so homey, just the type of atmosphere she longed for but no longer had.