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I sip the liquid autumn spice, hoping a campfire kumbaya moment follows. “His name is Gavin Wells. He’s thirty-one, wealthy, and he works in finance.” God, I hope career questions don’t follow. Didn’t prepare for that.
She shuts her laptop, stilling for a moment in thought. “How do you know him?”
“I met him at The Art Garden.”
A look I can’t pin down drifts over her.Concern? Intrigue?“He’s an art connoisseur?”
Sure, let’s go with that. A gun connoisseur is more likely since I don’t think they were at the Victoria Shops for art, jewelry, or pastries, but why split hairs?
“Among other things.”
Her head slants to the side, mouth tight, and I know I’m losing her. “When did you meet this man?”
Clenched jaw. Breath held. “Three days ago.”
“Three days ago?” She gasps. Audibly. Clutching her chest. “And you’re going tomarryhim?”
I scoff, outrage smacking into me like a tsunami.How out of touch can she be?“You were offering my hand to men I’d never met. What’s the difference,Mother?”
“The difference,Ivanna, is that they are all from respectable families in our community. What do you know about this Mr. Wells?”
“Enough,” I snap.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Shouldn’t you have rebelled as a teenager or indulged a wild streak in the college years? Really. Now? You’re almost twenty-three.”
“This isn’t rebellion. This is me being whomy fathertaught me to be. I’m doing thismyway. Who knows why he added that clause? He was always protective and cautious, but this … it’s not like him. But since I can’t question his reasoning, all I can do is double down on what he taught me. He’d encourage me to do this in a way that empowers me, and this is it.”
She jumps up with a huff, pacing. “I disagree.”
“You should go on that trip, Mom. I’ll visit Dad while you’re gone. You deserve to get away and relax, and this will be a no-frills courthouse affair. No need to stick around for it.”
Tears glisten in her eyes, a few spilling over that she nimbly catches. She rounds the island, cupping my face, defeat and torment written all over hers. “This isn’t what I wanted for you. I love you, sweet girl, and fought for other ways. I wish I could elaborate, but please know I’m trusting that your father knew what was best for you. He always has. Both of us have always known what an extraordinary woman you’d become. You’ll conquer this obstacle with as much strength as you’ve thrown at everything else and come out on top. I have no doubt.”
She hugs me, kisses my hair, and strides toward the back staircase, turning to address me once more. “The lawyers have a prenup drawn up already. Make sure he signs it first and be safe.”
WELLS
Ushering Ivy out to her car and sending her on her way took far more strength than it should have. Especially since she hesitated in the driveway, first with an awestruck gape at the house, much like when we had arrived, but soon, that morphed into a lingering ogle on my eyes and lips, accompanied by shallow breaths, as though leaving wasn’t something she ever wanted to do.
Which nearly broke me.
She fucks with my head, her vanilla-raspberry scent waking up my cock when that is the last thing I can afford to be focusing on right now.
I down the last of my Macallan, Ty promptly passing me another one from our back patio bar.
He pulls up a wrought iron chair beside me at the white stone table, sipping his Kraken and Coke. “Seems like it went well.”
The stars are so bright out here when we keep the string lights on the lowest setting, like they are now, even better when they’re off. Peaceful.
I nod, searching the diamond-dotted sky, visible through the slats of the pergola, wishing some of that peace could wash over me now. “It did.”
He chuckles. It isn’t his typical mirthful bellow. It’s patronizing. “So, that’s why you chomped on that raspberry Tootsie Pop like you had something personally against it when you came back inside?”
I cracked that bastard wide open. No licks. My brows arch in feigned confusion.
He kicks up his feet with another all-knowing chuckle. “Anger? Sexual tension?”
“Both,” I bark, the raspberry sweetness still coating my tongue with longing. “Such a fucking mess.”
