Chapter 192

Almara’s Pov

Grace loves her new home. We all do. It only took a few extra months working with the interior designer to get the house of our dreams all set up and now it’s ready to show our friends and family.

“Almara, where do you want the charcuterie board?” Arthur asks and I turn from placing sunflowers in a vase and point him in the direction of the sunroom.

“I think on the glass table, next to the family portraits, would look nice,” I tell him.

“Mommy, I don’t like my dress,” Grace says lightly tugging at my sweater. I turn around and see she put her head through the sleeve hole.

“Well, honey that’s because you have it on wrong!” I say and laugh. I adjust the dress so it slips over her the way it’s supposed to. “There, how does that feel?” I ask.

“Better,” Grace says, and I can hear the but coming. “But,” There it is. “I want to wear my jeans.’ Grace whines.

I let out a sigh, “Sweetie your jeans are in the wash. They won’t be done before family arrives.” Grace rolls her eyes and stomps off with an audible ugh.

“Five going on fifteen,” I murmur under my breath. She’s in a phase where she’s hating pretty much everything in her closet except this one pair of baby blue jeans that are literally on their last thread.

“I think we’re ready for guests,” Arthur says wiping crumbs off his hands. I look around and smile in satisfaction. The house really is beautiful. Sure, Arthur maybe didn’t talk to me about it but honestly there’s no way I would’ve said no anyways.

Forty minutes later the doorbell rings. “I got it!” Grace shouts as she runs through the house, racing to get to the front door as if her father or I would dare get in her way. She opens the door and we know who it is by the way she squeals “Grandma! Grandpa!”

I hear the voices of my parents, but can’t make out what they’re saying. I organize the champagne glasses on the island. “In the kitchen!” I shout. Moments later my parents enter and the look on their faces fill in the blank of what they were saying, or at least thinking when they first came in.

“This place is stunning!” My mother says, nearly winded as if the aesthetics of the place knocked the wind out of her- which very well may be true.

“Thank you,” I say. I rehearsed showing appreciation when someone mentions how beautiful my house is because I can’t keep laughing or pretending that it’s not real.

My parents trip over one another, asking question after question about the house. I answer what I can, but I plan to give a full tour once everyone is here. We’re waiting for Arthur’s parents, Robert and Cathy. Just something small.

It’s been a long time since we’ve all been under one roof and the last time we were things didn’t go over so smoothly. I’m determined for tonight to be different, a toast to new beginnings. And, if not, Arthur is excited to use the phrase “get out of my house.”

Within the next fifteen or so minutes everyone else arrives. It was Arthur this time to open the door when his parents arrived, I think he wanted to see his parents' faces, though if they’re impressed they don’t show it.

“I’m surprised you went with this, uh, old-fashioned, style,” Roman says eyeing the house up and down.

“It’s rustic and charming,” Arthur says, repeating the two words he’s heard me say a dozen times over to the interior designer. I smile at the small joke between us. Roman just nods, though it doesn’t seem the style is resonating with him. Oh well, it’s not his house.

Robert shows a modest amount of respect and interest, it’s Cathy who’s mocking all along the kitchen gushing over the cabinetry, which I am happy tell her Arthur hand-carved.

“This is the most beautiful hardware I’ve ever seen in my life, Is this soft close?” Cathy asks while pulling out our drawer and letting it shut slowly on its own.

“What about the drawers that I have?” Robert asks scrunching his nose.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re great. Wait, no way! Are these curtains imported from Spain?” Cathy gawks at our thousand-count thread drapes. Robert just rolls his eyes.

The doorbell rings again and I look at Arthur quizzically who just shrugs. “Finally,” Robert says and moves to the front door. I follow behind him, wondering who he invited. I’m about to ask, but Robert opens the door and my question is answered. Sort of.

Two guys carrying handles of vodka push past Robert and scan their wide-eyes across the house. “This place is sick!” One of them exclaims.

“Max? Toby?” Arthur says standing from behind me, but makes his way forward to greet these two men. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, man! It’s good to see you!” One of the guys says and goes to give Arthur a handshake and bring him in for a hug. “Robert told a few of us about your new place and the housewarming party and we thought we should pay our old co-worker a visit,”

They move further inside and give a ‘what’s up’ nod. I lightly wave back. I guess a couple more guests is fine. Except why do they have handles of vodka? Arthur and I exchange a glance and I know he’s asking if he should kick them out, but I gesture that it’s fine.

Arthur goes to shut the door, but is stopped by a hand. He pulls the door back and three more people walk in. All greeting Arthur and barely recognizing me. Arthur is polite enough to say hello, but not warm welcoming enough that she should be confidently entering as they are.

The last one to enter is carrying a medium-sized fountain. Which I follow with my gaze until they disappear into the kitchen.

I hear bursts of loud greeting from Robert in the kitchen which indicates to me that he must’ve told more than just a few people. “Where should I set up the vodka-fountain?” At least that explains the handles.

Arthur quickly shuts the door before anyone else can come in and releases a short breath and quickly makes his way back to the kitchen. I follow behind him.

“Robert, didn’t you think to ask before bringing everyone over?” Arthur asks, trying to keep his voice a balance between respectful and assertive.

Robert pops a chip into his mouth. “Why? It’s not like you don’t have the space?”

“Sorry man, we wanted to surprise you. Robert said that you would like that,” One of the first uninvited guests to arrive says.

“Did he?” Arthur says through his teeth what could be mistaken as a smile if not for his clenched jaw.

“Oh son, lighten up. It’s been a while since you’ve seen all your old friends and when are we all in the same room anymore?” Roman asks, echoing my earlier thoughts. Arthur gives me a look that says it’s up to me. Well, I’m not going to ruin the party so I shrug.

“I guess I’ll order a pizza,” I say realizing we’re going to need something to soak up the handles of vodka that are already being poured.