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We all waited on pins and needles for Elizabeth and Rick Valentine to appear. Okay, maybe it was just me feeling like something sharp was poking me in the tuchus.
“Oh,” I remembered something quite important. “Please don’t be offended when my mom rates you on a scale from one to ten.”
Patrick’s eyes widened.
“Don’t worry. I think you’re a ten.”
He flashed me his charming smile. “That’s all that matters to me.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.” Bridgette snickered. She said that now.
It didn’t take long for my parents to appear.
I had to press my lips together when I saw my mother, in oversized sunglasses and a wide-brimmed influencer’s hat that she could barely keep on her head for how windy it was. She was also wearing some fake furry coat that practically swallowed her whole. She was more on the petite and perky side like Charlotte. The woman who birthed me had my poor dad carrying all the luggage, like he was her personal valet. He even had bags around his neck. I covertly took my phone out and snapped a picture through the window. If I had to witness it, so did Charlotte.
“Is that them?” Patrick guessed.
“Uh-huh,” I squeaked, wanting to crawl under the seat, praying Mom didn’t start blowing kisses at people like she was Marilyn Monroe on the red carpet. I jumped out of the car to save my poor dad and hopefully prevent any further humiliation.
Patrick and Bridgette did the same.
“Darling,” my mother called out, like she was in a film noir.
I rolled my eyes.
Dad gave me a sympathetic glance while standing as straight as he could, trying to look dignified. He was handsome and still had quite a bit of hair, albeit of the silver variety, for a guy in his late sixties. When he was younger, he had dark hair like mine.
I hustled toward him to relieve him of his load. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”
Patrick was by my side grabbing the largest suitcases.
Mom didn’t return my greeting or even let me make introductions. “Oh my, you must be Patrick.” Mom fanned herself. Was she insane? The obvious answer was yes. It was only twenty degrees, and that was if you were directly in the sun. Before Patrick could respond, Mom set her sights on Bridgette, who wisely stood back, carefully eyeing my mother like she would a wild animal. “Well, aren’t you a gorgeous thing.”
“Thank you.” Bridgette bit her lip.
“We are going to have so much fun getting to know each other.” Mom rushed toward Bridgette.
Bridgette braced herself but didn’t move an inch. She was a brave, brave girl.
“Mom,” I complained, but it was too late.
She wrapped Bridgette up like she had octopus tentacles. “You can call meMimi.” She was practically in tears.
All I could do was stand there and watch the scene unfold and pray Bridgette wouldn’t be scarred by it all or hold it against me. I mouthed “Sorry” to Patrick, who didn’t seem bothered by it at all. Instead, he wore a bright smile.
“Okay.” Bridgette was kind enough to loosely wrap her arms around my mom.
“You are just the sweetest thing.” Mom kissed her cheek. “Papa Valentine and I are going to spoil you rotten on this trip.”
Oh geez. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You know, we should really get going; there are cars waiting for our spot.”
“Excellent idea, sweetheart.” Dad gave me a grateful smile. Don’t get me wrong—he absolutely worshipped the ground my mother walked on, but he knew she was crazy. That was true love right there. To love someone, quirks and all.
Mom let go of Bridgette only to go to Patrick. He was the next recipient of her affection. Apparently, I had become chopped liver. She squeezed him tight, making him drop the luggage he was holding. “I just want you to know that we always promised ourselves that no matter who our girls brought home, we would love them.”
Patrick grinned at me. “Thank you, Mrs. Valentine.”
“Oh, honey, call meElizabeth. Or, you know, Mom.” She tittered like a schoolgirl. Drake was already using that term of endearment, and she told anyone she could that hersonwas Drake Foster, number one box office sensation.
