It was kind of nice, the two of us just getting ready. It felt normal, domestic. But that’s not real. We’re in a hotel, and I’m sure life back home is a whole lot different. That’s only a reminder that our time will come to an end. That makes my stomach twist more than this breakfast we have to attend with his parents.
Actually, his dad hadn’t been bad. He went out of his way to try to include me. I’m sure he and I would have hit it off if it weren’t for Cordelia monopolizing the entire conversation.
“You look beautiful,” Wells says, pressing a kiss to my lips. “We don’t have to go. You only have to say the word.”
“It’s fine.” If I want what we have to be real, to give it a chance, I can’t hide from his family.
“Pretty sure fine doesn’t mean fine at all.”
I snort a laugh. “I’m good, how about that?”
He takes my hand and kisses the back of it before tangling our fingers together to head downstairs.
The restaurant is nearly empty, which somehow makes it worse. His parents have a private terrace reserved. Either that istheir norm or they’re going to have a talk with us that they don’t want anyone to overhear. I’m going to guess the latter.
“There they are,” his father says with a warm smile. He’s been very welcoming from the start. It helps me relax some. “The lovebirds.”
Wells’ hand tightens in mine. I return the smile. Eleanor remains stone-faced.
“Morning,” I tell them both as Wells pulls out a chair for me.
We settle across from them, and I can feel his mother’s eyes on me, cataloging everything. My hair is still lightly damp. The mark on my neck from Wells’ love bites I tried to cover with makeup makes it hard to meet their gaze. I feel like a teenager whose boyfriend’s parents know what we were up to. At least that’s the vibe I’m getting.
“Coffee?” his father asks, already pouring before I can answer.
“No thank you,” I murmur. “Orange juice will be fine.”
“So,” his mother says, and I brace myself. “I assume you’ve both seen the coverage.” Eleanor launches right in. My ass is barely in the seat and she’s starting.
She slides a magazine across the table. I catch the headline—Royal Heir’s Mystery Woman: Who Is She?—and several photos. The kiss on the dance floor is the feature photo. It’s been blown up so it’s grainy. My face looks startled and exposed. The next photo is of us leaving the reception, Wells’ hand gripping mine, my expression unreadable.
I go pale. “Oh God.” My stomach drops.
“It’s fine,” Wells says, too loudly. “It’s just tabloid garbage.” His hand rubs my back, trying to soothe me.
“It’s not fine,” his mother says quietly. “Her name is everywhere. Her background. Her family.” She pauses. “Her father’s debts.” I flinch. I can’t help it. I never speak of my father. There isn’t much to say.
A fist slams down on the table, making everyone jump. The whole thing is rattling. Eleanor’s eyes widen in surprise, and the table goes silent. I peer over at Wells, who still has his fist resting on the table. He’s pissed. I have never seen him this worked up before.
“Mable does not speak to her father.” I don’t know him at all, honestly. There are a few vague memories from childhood, but it was always just my mom and me.
“I wasn’t aware that?—”
“Because you haven’t taken the time to get to know her.” Wells pushes back from his seat, standing and offering me his hand. “I’m going to take my girl to a proper breakfast. You can sit here and read the same article over and over as if it will change anything. You can believe whatever you want, but know this: It won’t change anything between Mable and me.”
I reach to take his hand, but his father’s comes down on top of my other one. “Please, stay.” Wells is already shaking his head no. “If you are indeed serious about Mable”—Henry gives me a soft smile—“then family scuffles are something you work past. Now please. Let’s start again.” He nods for Wells to sit back down; he doesn’t. He has his attention on me. I squeeze his hand, and Wells finally concedes and takes his seat again. I don’t miss the expression that flickers across his mother’s face, but she’s quick to mask it. She’s not happy in the least that Wells looked to me for what we’d be doing.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you lose your temper,” his father says teasingly, sitting back in his chair.
“Then don’t provoke me.” Wells drops his arm across the back of my chair, his thumb stroking my shoulder. His mother’s eyes are absorbing every single detail.
“I don’t know anything really about my father,” I admit, not having anything to hide. They might as well know, if it’s going to be spread across the papers and internet. “I have been with mymother my whole life. You might assume her money came from my father, but rest assured, it did not.”
That’s all I have to say on that. Why would I tell them more? I’m sure Eleanor has already had me looked into and knows these facts. I’m on to her. I’m not going to bare myself to them when his mother is already trying to rip me apart. The table falls quiet, but thankfully the server returns with drinks and takes everyone’s order.
“I’m simply stating facts.” His mother folds her napkin. “This is why we vet these things. Prepare for them. You walked into that reception with no plan, no protection for her, and now she’s exposed. That’s not on her; that’s on you.” Oh shit, now she’s aiming for Wells.
“She’s not a secret to be managed,” Wells says through his teeth.
