Page 307 of Romeo

Fiona’s eyes widened.

Then she found me.

I smiled.

The uncertainty in her face eased.

Mama saw that too.

She crossed the room before Fiona reached the bottom step, and for the first time all morning, I wondered if I should intervene. Mama could overwhelm a grown man with years of experience avoiding her. Fiona had known she was coming, but knowing Glorianna DuBois existed and experiencing her were two entirely different things.

I should have known better than to worry.

Mama stopped in front of Fiona and looked at her for a long moment. Fiona straightened slightly beneath the inspection, and I saw her glance toward me before Mama reached out and took both of her hands.

“So, you’re Fiona.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mama’s mouth softened. “Oh, sugar, none of that ma’am nonsense unless I’m angry with you. You call me Glorianna until you’re ready for something else.”

Fiona glanced at me again.

I knew that look.

She liked her.

God help us all.

“I’m sorry this is so sudden,” Fiona said.

Mama’s brows rose. “Sudden for you, maybe. I’ve been waiting damn near a year for my hardheaded son to quit circling you and do something useful.”

“Mama,” I groaned

“What?” She looked over her shoulder at me. “You think I didn’t know?”

Fiona laughed.

That was worth every bit of shit I was going to take today.

Mama turned back to her, squeezing her hands. “Now I’m going to ask you something once, and I need you to answer me truthfully. My son can be persuasive when he gets an idea into that thick skull of his. Are you standing here because this is what you want?”

The laughter disappeared from Fiona’s face, but there was no fear behind it. Her eyes came to me again and held mine before she answered.

“Yes.”

Mama watched her another second, then nodded as though something had been settled.

“Good. Then we have work to do.”

Fiona barely had time to blink before Mama kissed her cheek and passed her directly to Aunt Marabella.

“Upstairs,” Marabella ordered. “We’ve got a dress to get you into.”

Fiona looked down at herself. “A dress?”

“Of course a dress.”