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He’s mock-pouting again as I watch him wash up. Once he’s covered and he can’t back out, I retreat to the bedroom and drag on my clothes.
When he next leaves the bathroom, he’s swiping a towel over his face.
“How do I look?” I ask, smiling up at him as I step back and twirl.
“Stunning.” He grabs my hand and butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Fucking beautiful. What color is that?”
“Pink?” I drawl with a laugh.
“Nah, it’s purple.”
“Purple?!” I stare down at my blouse. “Are you color-blind?”
“You got me seeing stars, baby girl. Black is white and gold is silver.”
I hoot out a laugh. “So corny.”
“Got you going, though, didn’t I?” he teases. “Need to make sure you’re nice and calm. Ma’s super chill. You don’t have to worry about her. Now, my sister is another matter entirely.”
“Um, so what is your ma’s name?” I ask, but despite his pep talk, I am nervous.
The one thing I have is perfect manners so it’s ridiculous to feel anxious. It’s not like I was raised without them, but I’m pretty damn sure that I’m falling in love with this guy. I want his mom to like me.
“Patricia. Don’t call her Mrs. Frasier, she always says that’s my grandmother. You can call her Ma,” he says with a wink while leading me to the elevator, holding out his arm to let me inside first.
“Cade, I can’t call her ma,” I retort.
“Sure you can! Everyone does. Ma’s…Ma.”
I huff at that, but the elevator doors open, letting in the sounds of laughter and voices, which get even louder as we approach an open front door.
“Christ,” he groans the second he hears them.
“What? What’s wrong?” I ask quickly before I can start panicking.
“Nothing. It sounds like my other sisters are here too,” he complains before pulling me into the apartment with him, which is when the entire room goes silent.
Everyone stares and looks at us and then explodes with all of them greeting him.
“Ma, please,” he moans with a laugh as a small woman with blonde hair in a bun and a trim figure smothers Cade’s cheeks with kisses and holds him tight to her chest. I know they saw each other last night, but it’s as if she hasn’t seen him in months.
I’m happy for him; really, I am. But for a split second, pain fills me. I miss my mom. Even though I try hard to push the grief away, it never goes anywhere. It’s always there, hanging around. Seeing this, his mom being so affectionate, just throws me for a moment.
“You were gone too long,” she chides, slapping his side playfully as, chuckling, he drapes an arm around her. Which is when the other two women I haven’t met yet move in for a hug.
The only one who is ignoring Cade is Kitty. She’s sitting on the couch, dressed in the same clothes as last night, sipping coffee or tea, and wearing dark sunglasses as if the morning light is too much for her as well.
Damn, rushing around this morning made me forget my shades. Talk about a rookie move.
“Ma, Neev, Róisín, I want you to meet Isabelle.” He removes his arm from around his mother to beckon me toward him.
“Isabelle. Yes, Kitty told us all about you. I’m Patricia. So nice to meet you.” She takes my arm and leads me into another room.
Unlike her son’s condo, hers has actual furniture: yellow walls, a big red couch, tons of family pictures everywhere in a multitude of different frames, and a brick fireplace in the corner.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Frasier,” I say shyly.
But she tuts. “None of that Mrs. stuff. Call me Patricia.” We walk into a big open room where there’s a giant table and floor-to-ceiling windows. A large island is the only thing that separates it from the kitchen. “You must be starving,” she declares. “It’s already ten AM.”
