Chapter 32
“Look, Kat,” Peter replied gently, “you might hate me, but when it comes to proper etiquette, we should keep in touch with the Vance family.”
Kathleen let out a cold laugh. “This isn’t about etiquette. It’s about you trying to connect with them.”
Peter fell silent.
“What do you think you’re getting out of this?” Kathleen asked, her voice calm but cutting. “Do you really take the Vances for fools? You think you’re the only one who’s clever in this world?”
“Kat, how can you talk to your father like that?” Peter demanded, displeased. “You married Shawn. Now, you’re living a life people can only dream of. What’s so wrong with that? We’re family. Are you really going to cut ties with us? You’re my daughter!”
Kathleen raised her eyes to the distant sky, watching the fireworks burst across the horizon. “The day my mom died, I stopped being your daughter.”
With that, she hung up.
Behind her, she suddenly heard a faint sound. She turned to see Shawn standing there, hands in his coat pockets, and his deep eyes fixed on her quietly.
She didn’t know how long he’d been there or how much of the conversation he’d heard. She smiled and said, “I thought you were asleep.”
Shawn walked over and sat beside her, his eyes falling on the glowing coals in the brazier. He frowned slightly. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Not really,” Kathleen said, opening her hands. “It isn’t that freezing this winter.”
Shawn said nothing.
“You should go to bed,” she continued, looking at him.
“You’re not sleeping?”
“I’m staying up for the countdown,” she answered, her eyes reflecting the firelight.
“You don’t have to,” he replied, glancing at her. He had only mentioned it earlier without meaning much by it.
“I want to,” she insisted. “Besides, I get to watch the fireworks.”
“Fireworks are a waste,” Shawn muttered. “They burn out in a second, waste money, and are completely useless.”
Kathleen pursed her lips. “You didn’t seem to mind when you stood there earlier watching them like the rest of us.”
“I didn’t ask for that.” He scoffed. “You all set them off right in front of me.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Shawn, you can be so unreasonable sometimes.”
“Where did you go this afternoon?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject.
The shift in topic wiped the smile from her face. She gently stirred the ash in the brazier with a small stick. Earlier, she’d tossed in a potato, but the open flame had probably burned it.
“Just wandered around.”
Shawn could tell she didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t push her. Watching her pull out a small, charred ball from the fire, he wrinkled his nose. What is that?”
“Potato,” she said simply.
It rolled onto the ground. As she reached to pick it up, she yelped when it burned her hand.
“Brilliant,” Shawn commented sarcastically.
Kathleen ignored him. She broke open the potato, revealing a thick layer of charred skin, but the center still gave off that mouthwatering aroma.
She offered him half. Shawn looked at it with utter disdain. “Have you never had real food before?”
“You just don’t get it,” she answered, still smiling. “Try it. It’s actually really good.”
He didn’t even glance at her.
Kathleen gave a small pout. Then, she blew on her half and took a bite. “All your fancy food can’t compete with this.”
She let out a satisfied humn.
Her grandmother had lived in the countryside, and their kitchen used a traditional wood stove. Whenever Kathleen visited, her grandmother would toss a few potatoes or sweet potatoes into the ash beside the fire.
Kathleen had loved squatting beside the hearth, pulling them out herself. Those were always the best,
