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“Easy for you to say.” I slide out, and the minute I do, he steps to my side. Whiskey touches my hip, and just before I can push him away and tell him to fuck off, he leans in close to whisper in my ear, “Probably best you don’t do that. Especially since we are madly in love.”
He’s right, and I hate him for it.
Leaving his hand where he placed it, we walk up the stairs. As we get to the door, my mother opens it. Her usual perfectly fake smile is on display. She eyes Whiskey while she holds the door open. “This is a surprise. We weren’t aware you were bringing a guest, Lottie; hello Whiskey.”
I nod and it’s all I can do right now because every ounce of fight and sass—or whatever you want to call it—has completely left me in this moment.
“Pleased to see you again, Mrs. Snow,” Whiskey says with a voice I don’t recognize. He’s super nice in a perfect gentleman way. I’ve never heard him use that voice before. Asshole.
“Yes, as you can tell, I’m very surprised to see you,” she says, but it’s laced with venom. Whiskey doesn’t seem to care about her tone of voice.
“It’s a pleasure to see you,” is all he replies as he looks around. His hand stays firmly on my hip, and my mother’s eyes narrow to it.
“What is this?” Her eyes flick to my hip then back to me.
“Is father free now?” I ask, trying to avoid the inevitable.
“I hope you aren’t bringing him bad news, Lottie.” Her eyes narrow on me, and Whiskey squeezes my side firmly.
“No. Is he free?” I ask again.
Mother starts to walk, and we follow her to his office. Father’s sitting at his desk, his phone to his ear as he waves us in. When he looks up, his eyes drop to Whiskey, who’s sitting close next to me.
Father says a few more words, then hangs up, but he doesn’t bother to stand. “What is this, Lottie?” His voice is stern and straight to the point. He uses that tone when he’s not impressed with something I’m about to do or have already done.
“Mr. Snow…” Whiskey greets, and Father nods his head.
“Lottie?” Father questions with a harshness just like my mother’s. They are obviously both suspicious, and the anger seething from both of them is becoming awkward.
Taking a deep breath, Whiskey squeezes my side letting me know he’s there, which is a small comfort, I suppose. “I have an announcement…” My voice shakes, dammit! I try to remind myself that I need to begin this as someone who’s not scared, but a woman in love.
What a laugh that is.
“I’m engaged,” I spit it out like it’s a bad taste in my mouth, and then I pull my hand free from behind my purse. I had it hiding the ring. “Surprise!”
My mother grabs my hand and looks at the ring to make sure it’s real. “This is a joke, right?” she asks, her hand squeezing mine a little harder than I’m sure she intended, so I pull my hand free.
“No.”
“You didn’t seem that interested in him at the gala.” My father poses the question more like a statement. I didn’t even realize he saw us together.
This is go time. I need to make this lie believable. Make it sound legitimate. “I wasn’t ready to tell you then.”
“And you are now?” he asks. “You know who he is, right? What’s changed?”
“This,” I say, holding out my ring hand again, avoiding his other question.
“Is this what you really want?” my mother asks, almost in a whisper. “We can make this go away.”
“I’m right here, Mrs. Snow,” Whiskey finally speaks up.
“No, I don’t want you to make it go away. This is what I want.”
“We’re planning the wedding already. The date’s set, and it’ll be in a few weeks. We hope to see you both attend.”
I try not to roll my eyes at him interjecting and telling them that.
“No way! You can’t marry someone that’s associated with your father; he’s a criminal!” my mother’s voice screeches.
