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Shit.
I’m in more trouble than I thought. Tom and Thanas follow her inside.
“Come and meet the family,” I say, ignoring her frostiness. “And shoes off.”
Shpresa and Alessia are standing at the stove as I usher Joe and our surprise guests into the family room. They stare blankly at us as we crowd into the space. Alessia abandons the pot on the stove, wipes her hands on her apron, and switches off the music on her phone. I introduce Joe first, as we’ve been expecting him, and he’s at the head of the queue. Ever the gentleman, he bounds forward, hand outstretched. “Mrs. Demachi, how do you do?” he says with a dazzling smile. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
Smooth, mate. Smooth.
Shpresa, even in her state of shock, takes his hand. “Hello. You are welcome here,” she says. He grins and turns to Alessia, who is wide-eyed and pale as if caught in the crosshairs.
Oh no.
“Alessia, how lovely to see you again.”
“Hello,” she responds. “And this time, you are wearing clothes,” she adds.
He laughs out loud, and a little color returns to her cheeks as she breaks into a smile. He hugs her and kisses her on both cheeks.
Both!
Mate!
Her mother frowns at their exchange but keeps her counsel.
“Mrs. Demachi, this is my sister and my sister-in-law, Maryanne and Caroline.” They shake hands in turn.
“And this is my fiancée, Alessia. Caroline you’ve met.”
Caroline gives her a brief, but I think sincere, smile. “Hello again,” she says.
Alessia offers her hand, and they shake. “Hello… Caroline.” Her voice is tremulous, betraying her nerves, but before I can say anything, Maryanne offers her hand.
“How do you do?” she says. Alessia takes her hand and looks from her to me.
Yes. We look alike.
“How do you do?” she responds, and Maryanne’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, and she smiles.
“I can see what all the fuss has been about,” she says in her no-nonsense way.
Alessia’s brow creases, presumably not understanding that it’s a compliment.
“Yes. Well.” I flounder for words.
This is awkward.
“Now we’ve all said hello—” I manage.
“Please sit.” Shpresa saves me and waves to the dining table. “We are in preparations for the wedding.”
“Actually, before we sit,” Maryanne says, using her strident doctor’s voice. “Could I possibly have a word with my brother? In private.” Maryanne turns her brilliant green eyes on me, and I know I’m in deep, deep shit.
“You can use the front room,” Alessia says, eyeing me anxiously.
“Lead the way,” Maryanne says, and because I know what she’s going to say, and I don’t want her saying it in front of Alessia and her mother, I take her hand and practically drag her out of the room. In stiff silence, we stalk down the hallway.
* * *
Alessia watches Maxim leave with his sister. She thinks he’s angry but doesn’t understand why.
Does he not want his family here?
Is he ashamed of his relatives?
Or is he ashamed of her and her family?
Alessia doesn’t dwell on this as she fears this may be the reason. She turns her attention to Tom and Thanas, who have walked into the room. She watches Tom fist bump Joe. “I’m so glad you’ve joined us, old boy.” Joe flashes bright white teeth and slaps Tom on the back. It’s obvious they’re good friends. Tom offers Caroline a polite smile. He’s more reserved with her. Alessia thinks Tom is happier in the company of men rather than women.
Like an Albanian man.
Tom introduces Thanas to Joe and Caroline.
“We were not expecting these women,” her mother says in their tongue, distracting her.
“I know. I don’t think Maxim is pleased.”
“They will have to sleep in the room we had set aside for Maxim’s friend.”
“Yes. We should offer them tea or something stronger.”
At that moment, her father enters, and the introductions begin again. He appears delighted to meet a beautiful, fragrant woman, and Alessia cannot blame him. She cannot take her eyes off Caroline. She’s the most elegant woman Alessia has ever seen. In camel slacks and a cream sweater, a simple silk scarf with an understated camel-and-cream pattern at her neck, Caroline radiates wealth and good breeding. Even down to the pearls at her ears and her glossy hair, cut in a sleek bob.
Next to her, Alessia feels dowdy and unkempt in her jeans and soiled apron.
She looks every bit like Maxim’s cleaner.
And the last time she saw Caroline, she was in Maxim’s arms.
* * *
As I close the door, Maryanne whirls around, hair flying. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at? Marrying your daily? Really? What the fuck has gotten into you?”
I gape at her, stunned by her attack and momentarily lost for words at her ferocity.
“Well?” she demands.
“I didn’t take you for a snob, Maryanne,” I respond, my anger rising.
“I’m not. I’m just being practical. What the hell can a slip of a girl from… here”—she waves her arms around the room—“offer you?”
