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All of her.
And I always get what I want.
Forty-Three
Sophie
Present
Mom sits straight in her chair, pushing her food, her gaze flicking across the table to Trey in the dinette of her home.
I wanted their first meeting to be here. Trey offered to host at his house, but my mother isn’t easily impressed and, if anything, the fanfare would’ve worked against him. She would’ve thought he was trying to buy her off, the way Nolan did a lifetime ago. While she appreciates his financial help over the years (and was never in a position to turn it down), she knows it came at a price.
And she knows men with money can buy anything they like …
“This casserole is delicious, Sybil,” Trey says, eyes smiling. He looks out of place in this humble home with his designer dress shirt, shiny shoes, and debonair hairstyle. But he doesn’t act it. He hasn’t stared at the stains in the living room carpet or the pile of clutter on the kitchen counter or the overwhelming scent of cheap cinnamon potpourri that hits you when you first walk through the door.
It may not be what he’s accustomed to, but it’s home to me.
I also want him to know that the woman he’s marrying is more salt-of-the-earth than corporate city girl.
Emmeline stares from her chair, taking careful bites, as if she’s self-conscious and doesn’t want to spill in front of him.
“So tell me, how did the two of you meet again?” Mom asks despite knowing the answer.
She wants to hear it from his mouth, I’m sure.
I deflect to him. I’ve been trying to get him to do most of the talking, that way they can get to know him better.
“We bumped into each other in the hallway,” he says, glancing at me with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “Physically bumped into each other. But before that, I’d overheard her defending me to a couple of women who were saying some unflattering non-truths about me.”
Mom raises a pencil-thin brow. “Can’t say that I’m surprised. Sophie has always been one to speak up for others. You should have seen her in high school. Always protesting other people’s causes, always defending the underdog, always calling out bullies.”
“Is that so?” Trey shoots me a look.
“I’m surprised you didn’t already know that about her,” Mom says. “You two must know everything about one another if you’re ready to take that next step …”
“Getting to know your daughter has been half the fun. It seems like every day I learn something new.” He squeezes my hand under the table.
“Have you picked a date yet?” Emmeline asks. “For your wedding?”
Trey and I exchange looks.
“September seventh,” I say.
Mom takes a drink of her iced water, staring blankly out the window behind my sister. Even if she adored Trey, she’d still tell me we’re moving too fast. And I don’t blame her. She’s protective. She’s seen me at my worst and doesn’t want to watch me go through that again.
She should really give me more credit …
“Where will the two of you live?” Mom asks, snapping back into the present.
“At my family’s estate,” he answers, “just outside the city, about thirty minutes from here. The two of you are welcome any time you’d like.”
“Trey’s going to put in a special entrance for you, Em,” I tell my sister. “And there are elevators. You’ll have no problem getting around.”
My sister lights. “I can’t wait to visit.”
“Mom, you have to see his art collection.” I place a palm on her forearm. “And his conservatory … he’s got the best view of the stars.”
“Our art collection,” he corrects. “Our conservatory. And yes, the two of you should stay the night soon so you can enjoy the night sky.”
My mother’s expression softens, but her posture stays rigid. She’s warming up to him, but we’re hardly past tepid.
“So tell me, Trey, what do you love about my daughter?” she asks. “Why are you in such a hurry to lock her down?”
To my mother, marriage is a prison sentence.
His gaze lands on me, and his mouth curls at the side. “Everything.”
“Such as?” she asks.
“It’s difficult to put into words, but I’ll try,” he says. “She’s the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning. The last thing I think about before I fall asleep. She’s beautiful, not just on the outside, but on the inside. She drops coins in charity jars when she thinks no one’s looking. She tears up at those ASPCA commercials they run on late-night TV. She happily snaps photos when someone recognizes me on the street. I’ve never met anyone as witty as her. Every conversation we’ve ever had has kept me on my toes. Some days, just when I think I’ve figured her out, she throws me for a loop, and I’m back to square one. Your daughter is a fascinating riddle of a woman. Strong-willed. Independent. And for all those reasons and more, I can’t lock her down fast enough.”
