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A deep blush immediately colored my cheeks, as memories of the night before came rushing back to me. He was supposed to spend the night on the sofa, but after only a few minutes had come crawling back into bed with me.
“They’re your parents,” I said in scolding voice, but the remnants of the blush still lingered on my face.
“So?” he said, turning to face me. “Shouldn’t they think I have a happy relationship, both outside and inside the bedroom?”
From his expression, I could tell that he was just pulling my leg. I yanked myself free from his grasp and grabbed the nearest piece of clothing I could get my hands on.
It was one thing to sleep together. But it was an entirely different thing to be naked around each other when the sun was out. The morning came with the realization that Dylan was still my boss, and I would have to return to the office on Monday, no matter how convincing our game of pretend seemed.
I walked into his bathroom, and like everything else in this house, it was huge. The counter was lined with expensive toiletries. I put a squirt of perfume on the inside of my wrist before I began getting ready for the day. The interior of the bathroom attached to the room was made of white marble, giving the space a sleek and elegant feel. In fact, the entire mansion felt like it was right out of an issue of Architectural Digest. ‘Soft modern’, as the professionals would describe.
“Should we save water and shower together?” I was pulled out of my thoughts as Dylan came up behind me.
I tried to avert my gaze from his very sizeable asset, but he did not seem to mind at all. He had walked into the bathroom without a robe and still looked so relaxed, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
“You go ahead,” I told him, my cheeks growing warm.
He raised a disapproving eyebrow in my direction but didn’t push the topic much as he got in the shower right away. Soon the room was filled with steam from the shower and the sound of Dylan softly humming. I couldn’t help but admire how good his voice sounded. He was in the middle of belting out the verse from the Mamma Mia soundtrack when I came to sudden realization.
This Dylan was so different. At home, he was much more relaxed and had his guard down. It was a total contrast from the person he was at the office. I had to admit, I liked him more this way. It reminded me of the night when we first met.
At the breakfast table, he made jokes and chatted with his mother, who seemed to adore him. No one brought up his father, and it seemed like the mood was quite cheerful without him.
“I can’t wait for you to meet everyone tonight,” his mother turned to me when I was halfway to putting a slice of toast in my mouth.
“Whhautz tonhnight?” I said with a mouthful, and then swallowed and tried again. “Excuse me. I mean, what’s tonight?” I repeated the question, my tone tinted with embarrassment. Sitting beside me, Dylan tried his hardest to not burst into laughter at me. Even his mother seemed amused.
“Well, my dear, I’ve decided to throw a dinner in your honor. It is not every day that my son brings someone home to meet me. I want to use this as a chance to let you get acquainted with everyone else in our circle,” she explained.
Dylan noticed the nervousness that suddenly gripped me.
“She loves hosting,” he said. “Most people are used to her dinner parties every weekend. It’s going to be completely fine, don’t worry,”
I gave him a concerned look, but then immediately put on my smiling face as I turned to respond to his mother.
“Of course, I would love that. Do you need any help with the preparations?”
“No, no. You just need to show up,” she assured.
After breakfast was over, Dylan and I had a moment alone to ourselves in his bedroom. I noticed him sniggering at me from the corner.
“What?” I asked, impatiently.
“Do you need any help with the preparations?”He imitated me from earlier. “Gosh, it’s like you’re a natural at this. I can see my mother falling in love with you.”
“I like being good at whatever I do,” I replied, feigning an exaggerated arrogant attitude.
“Well, you need to put on the performance of your life tonight,” he said. “I’m sure she’s invited nearly everyone we know.”
“Can’t be a pretend love story without the finale,” I conceded, pushing down any nervousness that I felt bubbling inside of me.
I felt him staring at me for a moment. “Yeah, the finale.”
Dylan’s mother was not one to hold back when it came to hosting. By evening, several guests began to trickle down into the main living area. I had styled my hair in loose curls and opted for a shade of bright red on my lips. I wanted to make an impression, and nothing said ‘I’m classy’ more than a black dress and bold lips.
Dylan and I walked into the living area, hand in hand. Instantly, I could see several heads turn in our direction.
“There she is,” his mother said once she spotted the two of us. “The lady of the evening. Everyone is so excited to meet you.”
