Page 79 of The Image of You

I gaped at her. Her daughter was on the brink of a breakdown, sobbing openly in my arms and trembling so hard I was holding her up, and she was worried about being late for a lunch?

I shook my head. “We’re not going to a luncheon.”

The bitch sneered at me.

“You, Mr. Kincaid, were not invited. You’re hardly dressed suitably for such things. I’m surprised you managed to pull yourself away from your hobby to make an appearance—as inappropriate as it is.”

I narrowed my eyes, ignoring her jibe about my work and my place here. “I’ve been in a place with no power or amenities for the past while, Mrs. Givens. I’ve spent the past thirty hours trying to get back here to be with your daughter. I don’t think how I’m dressed matters.”

“Really, well—”

I cut her off. “What matters is the fact that Ally is distraught and exhausted.”

“What matters,” she hissed back, “is that Alexandra stops this emotional grandstanding and pulls herself together. We will present a united front at the club. She can give in to these ridiculous dramatics later in private.” She reached out, attempting to grab Ally’s arm. “And you have no idea what matters here. Nor do you have any say.”

I stepped back, taking Ally with me, and glared. “I believe I do have a say. She isn’t going anywhere with you. We’re going home.”

Sarah glanced behind her, and I shook my head in disgust. Her daughter was an emotional wreck, and all she was worried about was what people would see, what they would think or say about our interaction.

“Don’t worry, Sarah,” I sneered. “All people see is me holding your daughter and us having a perfectly civilized conversation. Although, if you don’t back off, right the fuck now, they’ll get a show none of you will ever forget. I promise you that.”

Our gazes locked.

“Do you want to go to this lunch, Ally?” I asked quietly, not taking my eyes off Sarah. I’d go with her if that was what she wanted.

She shook her head against my chest, lifting her ravaged face to her mother. “I’m staying with Adam,” she rasped. “You go without me.”

“Your place is with us,” Sarah insisted. “Remember your duty.”

I rolled my eyes at her statement. I’d had enough of her “duty” when it came to Ally.

“My place is with Adam.”

“You’re disrespecting Elena’s memory, Alexandra. This is for her.”

I couldn’t help the snort that escaped. Elena wouldn’t have cared less. “You, lady, have no idea what respect is. Your daughter doesn’t want to go, so she isn’t going. She’s staying with me.”

“My daughter is coming with me—where she belongs.”

A sudden breeze stirred the branches of the trees around us, causing the picture of Elena on the easel to thump loudly on the metal bars. I recognized the photo—I had taken it myself one night during a poker game. Elena was glancing at the camera, laughing hard at something Ally had said, the warmth so few people knew radiating from her. It was my favorite photograph of her, and a smaller copy was in my loft. No doubt Ally had supplied the picture for the service.

I almost started to laugh at the timing and knew this was the moment I’d been waiting for.

It was time to give Elena her last wish. She was waiting—impatiently—and had given me the sign.

Front and center, I’d promised her.

“Ally is staying with me,” I stated clearly, drawing in a deep breath. “My fiancée is exhausted and overwrought and will not be joining you at the lunch. She’s going home—with me. That is where she belongs.”

Sarah’s face became ghostly white as her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

I grinned at the horror in her voice. “You heard me, Mom. Ally and I are engaged. So, I think I do have a say in the matter. And I say she belongs with me.”

“You lie.”

Ally turned in my arms. “Don’t speak to him like that, Mother. He isn’t lying. He asked me to marry him, and I accepted.”

I lifted my arm with a smirk. “Want to give me a hug and welcome me to the family?”