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Yet, the money makes my stomach fold in on itself too because it’s a tangible reminder that none of this is real. No matter what I think, and no matter how many romance novels I read, my life is no fairy tale. This charade is just a semblance of love, and a mere shadow of the real thing. My stomach plummets again, but I have no time to dwell on it because Brent’s turned at a noise near the door.
“They’re here,” he tells me. My stomach grips fiercely as nerves take over my body, but I force myself to keep my chin high. I escorted for years, and if I can be a fake date, then I can definitely manage being a fake bride. With a bright smile, I spin in my chair to greet my temporary in-laws.
One look at Brent’s father tells me where his devastatingly good looks come from. His dad, Frank, is handsome and distinguished with black hair fading to a silvery gray at his temples, mischievous blue eyes, and a dark mustache. He wears a gray suit and carries a polished mahogany cane, limping a bit. But even with the cane, he walks with a tremendous air of confidence and I recognize his energy in the way Brent carries himself. Father and son definitely resemble one another, even if they’re thirty years apart.
On the other hand, Mary, Brent’s mom, is beautiful and kind. I quickly recognize her for the elegant woman that she is. Her cornflower blue eyes are soft and gentle, contrasting with the silvering blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She wears a simple beige dress offset with a fine diamond necklace that sparkles subtly.
To my surprise, Brent’s little brother is joining us for dinner tonight as well. Neal looks like his older brother, with the same black hair and blue eyes, but he’s got the air of a rascal about him. He’s wearing a blue suit with a gaily colored handkerchief in the breast pocket, and immediately moves to press a kiss to my cheek.
“You’re gorgeous,” Neal announces. “Don’t you think so, Mom and Dad? I knew Brent would finally land a good one.”
To my surprise, instead of laughing, my fiancé glares a bit at his younger brother.
“Hands off my property,” he growls, as Neal puts both hands up in mock surrender. “She belongs to me.”
“I see that,” murmurs Mary. “Calm down boys. No need to get competitive with one another.”
Brent merely glares at his younger brother, who laughs again.
“She’s yours, big bro,” Neal says. “I mean no harm.”
My fiancé seems to accept the apology and turns to his parents. “Sorry, Mom and Dad, for the interruption by your other, very rude son. In the meantime, this is my beautiful fiancée, Sansa Roberts, and Sansa, these are my parents, Mary and Frank Carson. This, as you already know, is my bratty younger brother, Neal.”
Neal merely bows with a flourish, his blue eyes sparkling.
“Why don’t we head to the table where we can get better acquainted?” Frank suggests. “I requested a private room in back to get to know my future daughter-in-law. It feels fitting for the occasion.” My eyes go wide with surprise. A private room? Wow! I wonder if this is normal for his family or if they’re pulling out all the stops for our dinner tonight.
“Oh how lovely!” Mary swoons. “Yes, let’s go sit down. That way you can tell us all about this lovely woman you’re going to be marrying,” she says as she takes her son by the arm. We follow Brent’s tall form to our private room, where aerators of wine and decanters of whiskey wait on the table.
“What do we have here?” Frank asks, his interest clearly piqued by the amber liquor before him.
“Bowmore Gold scotch and Château Batailley Grand Cru Classé 2015 Cabernet. Sansa’s favorites,” my fiancé says smoothly while winking back over his shoulder in my direction. Frank whistles, impressed.
“Very nice!”
“Thank you,” I say graciously. “I thought you might enjoy it, Mr. and Mrs. Carson.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Mary coos. “We’ll love it, I’m sure. Now take a seat, honey,” she says. “I’d love to get to know you better.” Brent turns and kisses me on the forehead before pulling out a chair for me.
“Sit, enjoy everyone,” he addresses his family while helping me get settled. “And Neal, feel free to order whatever tea or soda you’d like when the attendant comes.” Neal rolls his eyes at his older brother’s playfully patronizing words.
Mary sits to my right and instantly sees the hefty ring on my finger.
“Honey, it looks wonderful on you,” she says, smiling generously. “Did Brent tell you it’s an heirloom?”
In fact, he didn’t, and I stare at my fiancé with confused eyes. He’s chatting with his father about something or another, but I have a feeling he can hear everything.
