A knock sounded at the door, startling her enough that she yelped.
“Rory? You okay?”
“Just fine! Be right out!” She knew her voice was overly chipper, but her regulator was all off, and she didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t know if shewantedto fix it, because as scary as it was tackling all these emotions, it was so much better than the status quo she’d kept up for so long.
Without needing to, she flushed the toilet and washed her hands, then opened the door. Mac stood there, her brow furrowed as she assessed Rory. Damn, she’d forgotten to check her face—were her eyes red and blotchy? Was her makeup smeared?
“Momma sent me up when y’all didn’t come down. Did you let Gran know supper was ready?”
“Just made a little detour to powder my nose.” She hooked her arm through Mac’s and tugged her toward Gran’s room. “We can both grab her now.”
“You okay?” Mac asked.
“Fine, just tired.” Rory’s voice was too bright, but she didn’t care. If she didn’t overcompensate like this, she was worried she’d crumble right here on the ornate wool rug in the hallway of her parents’ home. And though she’d fallen far these past several months—and surely wasn’t through tumbling just yet—she refused to break.
Mac hummed and studied her just long enough to make Rory shift uncomfortably. “You’ve been puttin’ in a lot of hours on this thing with Nash, huh?” Mac bumped her hip with Rory’s. “How many clients have y’all worked with now?”
Rory exhaled a deep sigh, grateful for the question. “A few. We’re just startin’ our second major project this week, but I’ve done a couple small projects mostly on my own, too. Turnin’ an office into a nursery, switchin’ an unused dining space into a library…that kind of stuff.”
Mac raised her eyebrow. “Sounds like a big deal to me. Besides that,you’re workin’ at town hall.Andyou’re bein’ a single mom.Andyou’re rehabbin’ your house, too? Shit, it’s no wonder you look tired. Just wait till Will has you goin’ full speed on the wedding.”
And just like that, Mac had managed to move the topic off Rory and on to something else. Without Rory having to say a word, Mac seemed to pick up on the fact that she didn’t want to talk about what was truly bothering her. She’d been learning a lot about Mac recently—most things, admittedly, she should’ve known long ago. Like how she was loyal, almost to a fault. She didn’t let people get away with anything around her. And she didn’t like to be pushed around.
Tonight, she learned Mac also didn’t push others when it wasn’t the right time, even when it was clear she was anxious for them to talk.
Because of that, Rory made it down to supper without being confronted about her jumble of emotions. She sat at the dining table, surrounded by a plethora of food and her family talking about everything and nothing. For once, she didn’t mind it. It allowed her to get lost in the din. She said grace, passed the mashed potatoes and gravy, and ate with a smile on her face, but she was a million miles away, trying to sort through everything that’d been thrown at her today.
“Actually, Daddy, Rory’s unbelievably talented,” Mac said with barely restrained irritation in her tone.
Rory snapped to attention, glancing over at her sister as she and their daddy faced off in what appeared to be a tension-filled discussion. Something she’d missed the beginning of.
Daddy snorted but didn’t even acknowledge Mac’s words with so much as a single syllable, instead slathering butter on his roll.
“Mac’s right,” Will said, glancing over to Rory before fixing their daddy with a hard stare. “Not a day goes by that a customer doesn’t tell Finn how nice The Willow Tree looks. And that was all her doing.”
“And a damn fine job it was,” Gran said with a nod.
“Just some paint, that’s all.” Daddy waved a dismissive hand. “Besides, it was only a little side project while she went through some personal things. She’s doin’ fine now workin’ for me at town hall. She doesn’t need any of that other nonsense. Isn’t that right, Rory?”
She wanted to tell him how wrong he was. Wanted to list all the things she hated about the boring job that didn’t stimulate her mind or her heart or her soul. Wanted to tell him where to shove his assistant role and his view of the career she aspired to.
Except she needed his boring, tedious job whether she liked it or not. Her girls relied on her, and she wouldn’t let them—or herself—down, even if it meant doing something she hated.
Those same girls were looking at her now, their eyes wide as they awaited her response. She might not be ready, willing, or able to tell off her daddy just yet, but she could certainly set him straight on a few things.
“Actually, I’ve started workin’ with Nash on some projects,” Rory said. “His clients were askin’ about me helpin’ him with the designs, so we’ve agreed to a partnership.”
“With Big Nash?” he asked, distaste clear in his tone. “That man ain’t nothin’ but a—”
“I’ll remind you that our granddaughters are at this table, Richard,” Momma said, steel in her voice as she leveled Daddy with a glare.
Rory smoothed the cloth napkin in her lap just for something to do to keep her hands busy. “I’m workin’ with Little Nash, not his daddy.”
“Not sure he’s much better,” Daddy grumbled.
Rory didn’t understand the sudden need she had to defend Nash, but she couldn’t deny how it clutched her by the throat. She knew how people in town talked about him and his father. And she’d believed it at one point, too. But she’d spent enough time with him that he’d shaken the foundation those preconceived notions stood on.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Gran muttered. “Can you go one day without talkin’ outta your ass, son?”
