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He wanted to say, “Then stop being such a jerk,” but he held his tongue. “It would be better for all of us if we could get along, not just Ivy. Chloe didn’t want this. Ivy doesn’t want this, and if you search your heart, you know you don’t want this either.” He hated to bring it up, but age was an issue. “You’ll be eighty-eight when she graduates from high school. You’re too old to raise a child.”
“But I don’t look a day over fifty.”
He had to admit that his mother was youthful looking, but she’d had a lot of work done. He knew that she’d had multiple plastic surgeries over the years, from facelifts to Botox injections, and he couldn’t help but wonder if her pursuit of youth was worth it. It was a lot of pain and money to delay something that would catch up to her in the end.
“I’d like to see Ivy for dinner tomorrow. Where can we meet?”
The only place he knew was the diner. “Cricket’s at five.”
“Bring your fiancée. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Well, shit. With the recent developments, his timeline had been drastically shortened. He needed to talk to Tiffany.
“Sure thing. See you tomorrow.”
He ended the call and adjusted his schedule. He snatched his keys and drove into town to explain to Tiffany that his mother had altered their plans. He had assumed they had some time before Tiffany was required to step up, but his mother’s interference had compressed time once again.
He arrived at Sweet on You and found Tiffany behind the counter.
“Hello, honey.” She smiled sweetly. “Is there another name I should call you? What about snookums?” she teased.
“Only call me that if you don’t want me to answer.” His voice was more serious than he had intended, but he was in no mood for jokes.
“What’s going on?”
“My mother is arriving early, which means we have to speed up the plan,” he said with a sigh. “She wants to meet you.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Tonight?”
He shook his head. “No, tomorrow for dinner.”
She bit her lip, looking slightly worried. “Okay, but we haven’t had time to go over anything. What do I need to know?”
“Just pretend to be shy and follow my lead.” There wasn’t enough time to go over the things they needed to know about each other. “I’ll guide you.”
“What about Ava?”
From what she told him, her daughter was three and not a big talker, so he didn’t see her coming along as a problem. He hadn’t had time to talk to Ivy about much. The truth was, he didn’t know how to speak to her about a ruse, a lie. He knew he should teach her the importance of truth and honesty, but this charade was unavoidable, for her own sake. “Come early, and we’ll introduce the kids and go from there. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The bell above the door sounded, and in strutted an imposing man with an air of superiority that suggested he thought he owned the place.
Bastien turned away, but the man in a gray T-shirt and jeans stepped in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’ll see her tomorrow?” His voice was low and menacing. His eyes locked with Bastien’s, and his hands clenched into fists.
“Let him go, Marcus.” Tiffany’s face peeked over the counter, fear, and determination in her hazel eyes. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”
Bastien told him to step aside, but Marcus was not budging. “Not until you explain why my wife is meeting up with you tomorrow,” he said.
“Ex-wife,” Tiffany snapped. She grabbed the phone. “I’m calling the police.”
“I haven't done anything yet,” Marcus said.
Bastien didn’t like the sound of the word “yet.” It always implied more to come, and he had more than enough on his plate. The man was far enough away from Tiffany that he’d have to go through Bastien first to harm her. That was a small consolation under the circumstances.
“What’s your business with Tiffany?” Marcus asked.
Bastien stood firm. “It’s none of your business.” He wasn’t stupid enough to tell the man anything. He stared down at Marcus’s ham hock fists and took a step back.
“We’re wedding planning,” Tiffany yelled. “Now leave.”
