By help, I meant chop vegetables and wash dishes. Sadly, my talent in the kitchen rivaled only my ability to run a four-minute mile for nonexistence.
Food preparations bled into the actual meal, followed by a gift exchange in which we all had to guess the presents before we opened them. It was a whirlwind of laughter, alcohol, and merriment and the last night we spent together as a family before it all went to hell.
The next morning, we crowded in the living room for my mom’s birthday, tired but upbeat. For the most part anyway.
Nerves rattled in my veins as my mother made her way through her pile of gifts. Gabriel sat next to her, handing her a new item whenever she finished oohing and aahing over the previous one.
Romero, Miguel, Felix, and I were squeezed onto the couch opposite them—Felix doodling in his sketchpad, Romero fidgeting with his watch, and Miguel sprawled wide, looking like death warmed over. He’d drank the most last night.
My lola and lolo occupied the corner. Every few minutes, my lolo would nod off and my lola would smack his arm, jerking him awake.
“Oh, this is lovely.” My mother held the hand-painted crescent moon necklace from Felix up to the light. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said easily. “I thought it would be fitting, considering it’s both your and the company’s birthday.”
Hiraya Hotels’ logo was a crescent moon and four stars, one for each Valencia child. Its twenty-fifth anniversary was at the end of the month.
Felix was adopted, but he was the most thoughtful one of us all.
“Oh, iho.” My mother hugged him, her eyes shimmering with emotion. She’d been best friends with Felix’s parents before their deaths, and sometimes, she overcompensated for their absence by lavishing extra care and attention on him.
Neither my brothers nor I resented them for it. We loved Felix as much as she did, and we were equally guilty of giving him special treatment. We knew what it was like to lose one parent; we couldn’t imagine losing both.
“Isabella’s is the last one,” Gabriel said, handing my mother a large, gaily wrapped box. He flicked an unreadable glance at me.
No one had mentioned the National Star or Kai since I arrived. As a rule, we didn’t discuss negative topics during Christmas or Lunar New Year celebrations, which left today as the exception.
My nerves intensified, scraping my insides raw. I wished Kai were here, but I didn’t want my failure to taint his first meeting with my family. He had enough problems of his own to deal with, and I couldn’t always use him as a buffer. I needed to face the music on my own.
“Stop jiggling your foot,” Miguel moaned from next to me. “You’re shaking the couch and giving me a headache.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk so much sangria last night,” I said. “I think that’s your problem, not my foot jiggling.”
He mumbled something that sounded like a curse mixed with a groan.
“Isa, this is wonderful!” My mother admired the luxe gift box I’d bought from her favorite spa resort in Palawan. It consisted of a full range of toiletries, skincare, and their signature perfume. The resort didn’t sell the box online, so I’d had to ask one of my cousins in the Philippines to buy it and ship it to me. “I’ve been meaning to buy this. I’m almost out of the perfume.”
“Perfect timing then.” I mustered a smile, praying no one asked about the other gift I was supposed to give her today.
Move on. Move on. Move—
“Yes, it’s very nice.” Gabriel’s crisp voice interrupted my silent prayers. “But I believe Isa has another gift.”
My mother’s brow furrowed. Miguel lifted his head while my lolo cracked one eye open, roused by the prospect of drama. Seven gazes pinned me to the spot like a bug on the wall.
Saliva turned to sawdust in my mouth.
“What other gift?” A line of puzzlement dug between Romero’s brows.
“Her book that she’s been working on for the past three years.” Gabriel didn’t take his eyes off mine. “You said you’d have the complete manuscript for us today, didn’t you?”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Each heartbeat hammered so high in my throat I thought I might choke on it. My fingers curled around the edge of the couch as a bead of sweat trickled down my spine.
Part of me wanted to sink into the ground and never come back out; another part wanted to punch my brother and knock the knowing expression off his face.
“Isabella?” Gabriel prompted.
The taste of pennies flooded my tongue. “I don’t have it,” I said quietly. “It’s not finished.”
Silence fell over the room, punctuated by the chirps of birds outside the window.
Heat marched across my face in a relentless crusade. I tried to draw a deep breath, but the oxygen was too thin, my skin too tight. Shame and guilt inflated inside me, testing the seams of my composure and leaking through the cracks like stuffing through a ripped toy animal.
I’d endured the National Star firestorm, the breakup with Easton, and the meeting with Kai’s mother, but I’d never felt smaller than I had in that moment.
“That’s okay,” Felix said, ever the peacemaker. “It’s almost finished, right?”
I gave a meek nod. I’d been stuck at almost for weeks, but they didn’t need to know that.
Gabriel crossed his arms. “I thought it was almost finished four months ago.”
“C’mon, man.” Miguel glared at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“I’m not being an asshole,” Gabriel said coolly. “I’m confirming what Isa told me in late September.”
Another silence encroached, heavy with apprehension.
“He’s right. I did say that. I…” Leather pressed tight against my curled fingers. “I wasn’t as close as I thought.”
I could blame a number of people and things for my failure—the tabloids, my day job, my relationship with Kai, my brother for setting the deadline. But at the end of the day, it was my fault. I was the one who didn’t have the discipline to get it done. I was the one who’d let myself get distracted by sex and parties. I was the one who’d let myself and others down over and over.
Gabriel was harsh, but he was right.
My eyes felt hot and scorched, and I was suddenly glad Kai wasn’t here. I didn’t want him to witness my spectacular implosion and realize what a mess he’d been involved with this entire time. I was part of the reason he’d lost the CEO vote, and I wasn’t worth it.
“The spa gift is enough,” my mother said, giving her eldest son a reproachful stare. “Come. Let’s eat. Tigil muna sa mga bigating usapan.” No more heavy talk for the day.
She reassured me with a pat on the way out. Lines of worry bracketed her mouth, but she didn’t mention what just happened. After my father’s sudden death, she hated anything that disrupted our family’s harmony; I think she was afraid any argument would end up being the last words one of us said to the others.
However, the ghost of her disappointment trailed after me the rest of the afternoon and followed me out onto the patio that night, after the festivities died down and my mother and grandparents retired to their rooms.