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Her curls danced playfully into her eyes. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“You’re trying to intimidate me. It might have been an easy thing to do once upon a time, but not anymore.”
Branson strode back in the room, napkin on arm, her drink and garnish balanced on a tray. She swiped the drink and dropped her still burning cigarette on the empty tray. He clenched his jaw, but hustled back out of the room, presumably to take care of the fire hazard. I couldn’t stand being so close to her for one more second. I spied an ornate wood bench near the door and put a good, normal sized room between us.
She was loudly sipping her drink and moaning like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. I took the time to take in the opulence of their home. The marble accents, the woodwork, the way everything glittered and shone; it was easy to get lost in it all. To feel out of place.
“You’re probably figuring you have your very own estate in your not-so-distant future, eh?” Marie prodded. “All the quirky little odds and ends and interior designers from whatever celebrity magazine you flip through at the supermarket.” She raised her glass. “A true Cinderella story.”
I’d wanted to cut her off several sentences ago and say that she didn’t know me but I could tell she liked the sound of her own voice. “Cinderella is a fairytale. I don’t need an estate or an interior designer. The only thing I need is Xander.”
She clapped her hand to her chest. “Gosh, I can see why he’s in love with you. I’m practically falling for you myself!”
I rolled my eyes and dug my cell out of my purse. I fought the urge to text Xander and ask for an estimated time of departure. Whatever conversation he was having with his father was a long time coming. How he put up with his sister, even just home on holiday, was deserving of some sort of award. I could handle a few minutes of dodging the bullets and the biting, sarcastic remarks that she flung my way.
“So since you’re not a fan of Cinderella, how about you share the Penny and Xander story?” She missed or ignored my need for space and glided over to the bench I was sitting on and slid onto the cushion beside me. The remnants of the cigarette and the sharpness of the alcohol crept into my nostrils, souring my appetite and any lingering desire to be cordial.
“You could care less about our story, Marie.” My hands were rattling, but I was glad that she was too busy slurping on her cocktail to notice. “We don’t have to make awkward small talk. You’ve made it very clear where I stand.”
She paused mid sip. “And where exactly do I think you stand?”
“Somewhere close to the bottom of the heap.” We faced off, and this time, I didn’t blush. “Why else would you and your friend seek out my sister. Ruin her day, practically ruin my relationship-”
“I’m going to cut in right there.” Marie’s delicate features turned shallow as she looked around like she’d lost something. When she came up blank she craned her head toward the sitting room. “Branson, I need you!”
He scurried into the room immediately. “Yes, Miss Wade?”
She held out her glass. ignoring the fact that it was still half full. “I’m done.”
Branson obediently took her glass. “Can I get anything for you?”
She just flicked her wrist. She couldn’t even spare a thank you.
“Marie Wade, I know your father and I didn’t spend all that money on etiquette lessons for you to not treat Branson with respect.”
Xander's mother wasn't dressed as absurdly as her daughter, but she still glided down the stairs like some silver screen movie star in a violet dress with pearl buttons that twinkled in sync with that smile. It was nearly identical to the one she'd flashed me when we met. A practiced thing. I could picture her standing in front of some ornate mirror, coaching herself to not pull the sides to high, show a respectable amount of teeth, clearing her face of all emotion but friendliness. It all seemed forced and uncomfortable. It was just exacerbated by the fact that she'd just scolded her daughter; not because she was rude to Branson, but because she took etiquette lessons and should know better. My mother would have splurged for such things, especially if all the 'cool' moms were doing it, but having compassion for other people was a life lesson that I'd learned early on, free of charge.
Marie didn't backpedal, turning her charm up to 'grating' as she grinned at Branson without an iota of empathy or concern. "Branson knows I love him." When the man stood quiet, probably thinking some very choice things, she added, "Don't you, Branson?"
As if the man had any other choice, he quickly said yes, turning his attention back to Mrs. Wade. "You look beautiful, madam!"
She ducked her chin demurely. "You're too kind, Branson." Her gaze flitted over to me. "And I see my son brought his friend for another visit!"
I opened my mouth to add 'girl' to the front of that, but Marie graciously jumped in.
"Miss Penny Robertson is far from Xander's friend, Mom. They're practically engaged."
Mrs. Wade let out an uncomfortable giggle that devolved into a coughing spell that had Branson dashing over to save the day. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" she insisted, swatting him away. The last time we'd met she couldn't wait to hug my neck and welcome me. Now she kept her distance like I was asking her to buy something. I tried to not take it offensively. Her son hadn’t dated anyone seriously since college, was worth a lot of money, and depending on how much her husband had divulged, I was just a temporary thing so Xander could keep the company.
I knew that I didn't owe them an explanation and our story could very well fall on deaf ears, but I was done tiptoeing and letting my fears and anxieties keep me silent.
I suddenly wished that I'd taken that drink Branson offered earlier, but it was too late for that now. Marie was sitting there, gleefully delighting in what she was sure was the most embarrassing moment of my life, at her hands. Mrs. Wade was probably picturing me with my hooks in her son, trapping him with my feminine wiles, then heaven forbid, a bouncing bundle of joy.
I was never good with the whole meet the parents thing; social anxiety mixed with my crappy relationship with my own parents was a recipe for nail biting catastrophe. But I knew something with everything in me. I belonged with Xander Wade.
"I know we've only just met," I directed my attention to Mrs. Wade, since Xander's sister had already thrown down the gauntlet. Beneath the dresses and jewels and phony smiles, maybe I could reach his mother. "I wasn't looking for love when I met your son." From the way she arched her eyebrow and her lips twisted skeptically, I had a feeling she wanted more context, or was reading into the statement. I was definitely giving her the unfiltered version, but I rushed to tell her more. "I met Xander and in him, I found someone broken and dying to be seen, just like me. He's built this empire, and he's very good at what he does, but like me, he's not so good at letting people in. When I got a peek behind the curtain-" Emotion that even Marie's eye rolls couldn't snuff out filled me and the words stalled. Every emotion from fear, to excitement, to desire, to hope, raged inside me and the tears wouldn't be contained.
Mrs. Wade stepped forward, still at a distance, but there was something different in her eyes. "You two fell in love."
