My face pinches as I try to withhold my own smile. "No."
She laughs again, slicing through all the tension. I can feel my shoulders drop, and Grace seems more relaxed.
Maybe this can work.
Not that I think this will turn into something real. I have no desire to stay married. But for a year, I can be friendly with Grace and make this time manageable. Maybe even enjoyable.
"My dad inherited the farm from his father, and my older brother will inherit from him. Owen's been preparing for that his whole life," Grace adds once her laughter slows.
I can't deny the resemblance to my own family company, only instead of it being a known fact that I'll inherit our legacy, I'm having to fight for it.
"How many siblings do you have?" I ask.
"Two brothers," she tells me between bites. "Owen and Luke. What about you?"
I don't like being on the other end of questioning. I have half a mind to tell her this conversation is for me to get to know her, but I realize that's wrong before the words even leave my mouth. She also needs to know me. She can't play her role if she doesn't.
"It's complicated with my family." I push down my discomfort and swallow a few gulps of water. "We're not veryclose."
Not close is an understatement. While it's important to my mother that we display the perfect picture of a loving and wholesome family, we're anything but. My parents couldn't even raise us; we had nanny after nanny stepping in to fill the role.
"I have two brothers and a sister," I tell her.
Grace nods and sips her ginger ale. "Are you the oldest?"
"No." I shake my head. Sometimes it feels like I'm the oldest. The one with all the weight on my shoulders, but I'm the second child. Once, in what feels like another lifetime, my older brother and I were friends. Back before my father made it his mission in life to pit us against each other and ruin whatever respect we had as brothers. My younger siblings never had a chance. By the time they were born, Gabe and I had already decided that no one else could be trusted.
But I don't tell Grace any of that. "I have an older brother, Gabe. He's overseas, building clean water systems in third world countries."
Hazel eyes widen in surprise, and then she quickly recovers. "Wow."
That's a normal response to hearing about the charitable work my brother does. The newspapers and gossip magazines dub him the Saint of the Caine Family. The good son who's living out the values his parents cherish. Only, what they get wrong is that his good deeds are spit in the face of my parents. They wanted him here, living in the city and battling against me for the CEO title. Instead, six years ago, he dropped everything he had worked for and left. Only he could infuriate our parents by actually living out the values they print on their annual reports.
With the oldest son out of the picture, the two middle kids finally had their moment to shine.
"What about your sister?" she asks, cutting another piece of chicken and bringing it to her lips.
"Dove works at Sanctum. She's Chief Strategy Officer."
"I don't even know what a Chief Strategy Officer does," Grace mumbles.
"Strategizes," I deadpan, and Grace's eyes flick to mine, assessing how serious I am before her lips tilt into a smile.
"Funny," she retorts. "What about your other brother?"
"He owns Haven."
Grace freezes, her eyes flicking up to meet mine, lips parting with a sharp inhale. I can see her trying to figure out if maybe she misheard me.
"That's why your name sounded familiar," she murmurs to herself. "But— Then why…Why would you?—?”
"Do you have a question, Miss Morgan?" I ask, a bit harshly, breaking through her stuttering.
"I was fired."
"You were."
"You could have stopped it." Her voice rises with frustration.
