A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (48)

“So, this is the real reason you came to see me today.”

“It was a convenient excuse for doing what I’ve wanted to do many times.”

“But never did.”

“You’ve never asked me to, Gretchen.”

“I didn’t know a daughter had to beg her mother to come see her.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

And there it was. She was too dramatic. Too hysterical. Too chaotic. Too unreliable. Too much. A low buzz in her ears began to drown out the hum of the café. There was only one reason her mother would take the extraordinary step of physically visiting Gretchen to share this news. Because there was another shoe to drop. “What aren’t you telling me?”

To her mother’s credit, she met Gretchen’s gaze head-on for once. “I thought you should know that Evan is going to take over as CEO.”

A sense of weightlessness turned her stomach upside down. “Why not Uncle Jack?”

“Jack is almost seventy, honey. It doesn’t make sense.”

“But Evan is a narcissist. He won’t make decisions that are best for the company, only for himself. You know that.”

Her mother reached across the table and covered Gretchen’s hand with her own. “I know you two have your differences.”

“Differences? Is that how you see it?” Gretchen pulled her hand away. “It’s a lot more than that, and the fact that you showed up here out of the blue to break it to me that he’s going to be CEO tells me that you know it.”

“You were children, honey. All siblings fight. But you’re both grown now, and look how he offered you a spot on the foundation board.”

“Which he only did so I would talk to Colton.”

“Speaking of Mr. Wheeler.” Her mother’s face brightened at the convenient change of subject. Another painful conversation averted. “How are things going on that front?”

Gretchen tried to hide her disappointment that this was all her mother wanted. Business. It was the only blood that bound her family together. “I gave him an official proposal. He’s considering it.”

“How come you never told me that you had a relationship with him?”

“We don’t,” Gretchen said quickly. “Have a relationship, I mean. We just have some mutual friends.” And a bad habit of kissing like the answer to life’s deepest questions could be found in each other’s arms.

Jesus. Even she was starting to sound like a country singer.

“I’m not as oblivious as you seem to think,” her mother said. “I don’t need to see pictures of you and Colton Wheeler dancing by the river to know there’s something going on. I can see it in your face.”

“I’ve never said you were oblivious, Mom. Just . . . disinterested.”

“Well, I’m not.” She smiled. “Why not bring him out to the Homestead? Show him around the tasting room and the offices. Bring him by the shack. Let him see the family he’d be joining.”

“He wouldn’t be joining a family. He’d be joining a corporation.” Of course, for the Winthrops, those were one and the same. And Colton was too good for both.

“Well, bring him out anyway. We’d all love to meet him.”

“I’ll think about it.”

A lull in the conversation turned what was already an awkward moment into a torturous one. Diane looked one way and Gretchen the other, anything to avoid looking at each other. It had always been like this with her mom. Or, at least, it had been for as long as Gretchen could remember. Usually, she was grateful for her mother’s aversion to all things confrontational. Keeping their conversations superficial ensured that Gretchen wouldn’t have to be reminded how small of a priority she was on her parents’ agendas. But today, frustration screamed too loudly to ignore. Colton’s interrogation last night about her family’s lack of Christmas traditions had exposed a deep well of resentment that she thought had long dried out, but he’d dropped a bucket into it and apparently found one last drop of rancid water.

“Did I ever make you handmade ornaments for Christmas?”

Her mother’s brows tugged together. “What do you mean?”

“Like at school. Paper Christmas trees or my handprint in glitter on a scrap of paper.”

“I’m sure you did when you were little.”

“Did you keep them?”

Her mother’s shrug was noncommittal. “They’re probably in storage somewhere.”

Right. Storage somewhere. “How come we never had a family Christmas tree?”

“What are you talking about? We had a dozen Christmas trees.”

“But not one that was just ours. Private.”

“Honey, where are these questions coming from?”

“Forget it,” Gretchen said. “It’s nothing.”

Alexis returned with their food just in time, because her mother’s face said she was gearing up for another stop being so dramatic speech.

“Everything look okay?” Alexis asked, but the way she said it, with her eyes pinched at the corners and her gaze squarely on Gretchen, said she wasn’t inquiring about the food.

“We’re good,” Gretchen answered.

“Glad to hear it. You’ll let me know if you need anything?” She squeezed Gretchen’s shoulder before she walked away.