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I swallow hard, my throat suddenly desert-dry. “Um. It’s… significant.”

All three of my bosses pin me with sharp, searching looks that make my stomach plummet toward my shoes. I’m suddenly grateful I finished my dessert, because there’s no way I could manage another bite with this level of nausea rolling through me.

I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I blew it by casually mentioning my financial disasters in front of Ford’s wealthy family, like some kind of cautionary tale about poor money management.

Shit.

17

MAEVE

Once dinner finally wraps up, we’re shepherded into the sitting room for drinks and what Elaine cheerfully promises will be “just a little card game or two.”

Christmas carols drift from an honest-to-goodness record player in the corner, and I spot an entire wall of vinyl records organized with the kind of meticulous care that screams “expensive hobby.” The fire crackles invitingly in the massive stone fireplace, and outside the tall windows, snow falls in those perfect, fat flakes that look like something out of a holiday movie.

It really is picture-perfect Christmas magic. I just wish I hadn’t potentially ruined it by word-vomiting about my financial disasters at the dinner table. My entire presence here feels like a mistake—like I’m a discount store ornament trying to hang on a designer Christmas tree.

“I am so thrilled that you’re all here for the holidays!” Elaine practically glows as she guides Lydia to the elegant settee, her hands fluttering with excitement. “Darling, I know you want to see your friends, but we must coordinate around our planned activities. Or maybe some of them could join us! We’re going to the Christmas tree lighting in the town square—everyone’s invited to that, naturally. And we’re singing with the local church choir for their caroling tour. They can always use more voices. Do any of your friends happen to be sopranos? We’re short on trained sopranos…”

Lydia nods along with the patience of someone who’s clearly been through this before, assuring her mother that she can work her social life around the itinerary. Watching Elaine plan and organize reminds me of what I imagine a cruise director must be like—relentlessly cheerful and determined that everyone will have the perfect holiday experience whether they want to or not.

I drift over to stand by the fireplace, cradling my mulled wine like a security blanket. The warmth that had bloomed in my chest when the guys praised my baking at dinner has transformed into the nauseating heat of mortification. All I want is for everyone to forget I exist so I can slip away to bed without drawing more attention to myself.

Unfortunately, that escape plan gets torpedoed almost immediately when Gabriel appears at my elbow.

“Cold, petit oiseau doux?” His accent adds a lilt to the familiar nickname, and there’s something almost protective in his tone. “I could throw another log on the fire if you’d like.”

“No thanks. I’m fine.” I take a larger sip of wine than is probably advisable.

Gabriel’s expression grows serious, and my stomach drops. This is it—he’s been elected as the diplomatic one to gently explain how I’ve embarrassed them all. “You never mentioned your debt before.”

I stiffen, defensive instincts kicking in. “Why would I? It’s not your business.”

“You’re our employee.”

“Right, and you pay me well.” The words come out sharper than I intended. “What I do with my salary, how I manage my finances, what my life was like before I worked for you—that’s not your concern.”

“You could have come to us.” His voice gentles. “We have employee assistance programs, debt relief options…”

I shake my head, heat crawling up my neck. “It’s embarrassing.”

And it is. These men pay me more than generously—to admit that even with their excellent salary, I’m still eating ramen most nights and living in a studio apartment the size of their walk-in closets feels like confessing to some fundamental failure as a human being. I refuse to be that person who takes advantage of their kindness or asks for handouts.

Gabriel’s brow furrows with what looks like genuine concern. “There is nothing embarrassing about pursuing an education. You accomplished remarkable things—double majoring while attending culinary school. And knowing you like I do, I know you’re a capable woman and a hard worker. People get into debt through circumstances beyond their control all the time.”

His unexpected kindness hits me like a sucker punch. My throat gets tight, and I have to blink hard to keep my composure. “Thank you. That… that means a lot.”

Gabriel reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out something that makes my brain short-circuit for a moment. I recognize the sleek black card, but I can’t quite process why he’s holding it out to me.

“What is this?” I manage to whisper.

“A credit card.” His tone is matter-of-fact, like he’s handing me a business card instead of what I’m pretty sure is a Black Amex.

“You’re not funny. Seriously, why are you giving this to me?”

“As long as you’re here, I don’t want you to worry about money. About anything.”

“Gabriel, I can’t possibly—” I try to push the card back toward him, but he catches my hand and redirects it.