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He drove home and carried her bags inside. Upstairs in his bedroom, he watched her pull out a curling iron, makeup and a host of other things. He shook his head. “Honey, we’re not going to dinner at the White House, just over to my parents’.”
“I know, but I want to look nice.”
“What you’re wearing is fine.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Damian Bradshaw, I am not wearing—”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll wait for you on the porch.”
“I won’t be long.” She gathered up her haul and went into the bathroom.
Damian’s heart raced with excitement. He never thought he would risk his heart again—the pain of losing had been too much. Since meeting Karen, he realized the pain of not having her in his life outweighed everything else. He couldn’t wait to introduce her to his parents.
* * *
Karen surveyed herself one last time. She wanted to look especially nice for his parents. Would they like her? Or would they compare her to his first wife?
When she toured the rest of the house, she saw that he kept only one small picture of Joyce in his office—nothing like the shrine Karen had envisioned. But Joyce was a beautiful young woman, and Karen couldn’t help wondering how his parents would feel about him marrying again. She took a deep breath and tried to still the butterflies fluttering in her belly. She placed her stuff in the tote bag, turned off the light and made her way to the porch.
Damian stood facing the window with his feet braced apart and his arms folded across his chest, seemingly deep in thought. She crossed the floor and touched his arm. “You okay?”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her hair. “I’m good. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. I’m ready, if you are.”
On the way over, she wondered again how they would make the relationship work. “How are we going to do this, Damian?”
Damian’s gaze slid to hers briefly, then back to the road. “Do what?”
“This. Us.”
They came to a red light, and Damian reached over and covered her hand. “Baby, like I told you over breakfast, we will figure out what’ll work best for both of us. Relax.”
“Okay.” She resumed watching the passing scenery. A few minutes later, Damian pulled into the driveway of a one-story brick ranch-style house on the corner with a circular driveway. She saw a smaller attached structure and asked about it.
“My mom has an art studio. It’s connected to the house through a breezeway.”
“An art studio? That sounds so cool.”
“Yep.”
“What type of art does she do?”
“Sculptures. I’m sure she’ll give you a tour if you ask.”
Just then, a tall, slender woman with the same golden-colored skin as Damian opened the front door. “Did your parents know you were bringing a guest?”
“Nah. I wanted to surprise them.”
“I am so going to kill you, Damian. You’re gonna give them a heart attack.”
Damian laughed, hopped out and came around to her side.
He helped her out of the car and she whispered, “You’d better be right.” He kissed her, and she saw his mother’s eyes widen. Karen groaned and let him lead her up the walkway.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek.
“Hi, sweetheart. Welcome back. And who is this lovely young woman?” she asked with a warm smile.
“Mom, I want you to meet Karen Morris. Karen, this is my mother, Gwendolyn Bradshaw.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Bradshaw,” Karen said, extending her hand.
“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Karen,” she said, ignoring Karen’s hand and pulling her into a warm embrace. “Please come in. Louis is going to be so tickled to meet you.”
Karen followed her through the foyer and large living room to an even larger family room, where a walnut-colored older version of Damian sat watching a basketball game.
“Louis, this is Damian’s girl, Karen,” Mrs. Bradshaw said.
He rose to his feet swiftly and engulfed her in a bear hug. “Welcome, Karen. It’s nice to meet you. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
He turned to Damian and pulled him into a rough hug. “Welcome back, son.” His parents traded secret smiles.
When they were comfortably seated, Mrs. Bradshaw said, “Karen, tell me about yourself.”
