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She frowns, and before she can say a word, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull back, finding it a little harder than I should. Compartmentalizing is easy. And this should be easiest of all.
“Oh, fuck.”
“You have a secret wife you keep in your attic and she escaped?”
I laugh against my will at her weirdness. Is she quoting one of those Bronte novels? “No. Worse. My mother.”
Spoke to Jenson. I’m coming to see you now. Text address.
That’s my mother all over. She isn’t overly interfering, and for some reason, long after the divorce, she’d turn up to pick up the pieces and hand my father to the next in the line of younger and younger wives. But she isn’t to be denied when she decides something, and meeting Scarlett suddenly hit the top of her to-do list.
I check my watch. It’s only nine thirty and she lives near here.
“What about her?”
“She wants to meet you.”
Scarlett looks completely horrified. “Why would you tell her now?”
“I didn’t. I had to sign something for Jenson…” I trail off. Ryder. This place, my mother, it’s got him written all over it. I’m going to beat the living shit out of him when I see him next.
It’s too early. I know that. I figured since I had four weeks, I’d do the introduction if I had to as close to week four as possible, but then again…if we got it over and done with and my mother put her stamp of approval on this, half the job would be done. Right?
That’s if it works.
I eye Scarlett and she eyes me right back. The air is thick with a different sort of tension from the one before.
“Your mother?” she hisses, her fingers digging into my thigh. “Don’t you think it’s weird as we just met?”
“She believes in love.”
“And you don’t?”
“Come on, Scarlett. Like you do. This is money, nothing more.”
For a moment I think she’s going to argue, but the fire that leaps in those hazel eyes dampens and she draws back. “What’s love got to do with it, anyway?”
“Just pretend you’re besotted.”
Scarlett grabs my chin, which I don’t think anyone’s done since I was five, and drags my face to hers. “How’s this for besotted?” And she kisses me.
It’s a smack of a kiss that sends all sorts of vibrations rolling through me. Just lips on lips and it’s not sexual or romantic but I still react and someone, above the low music I’ve somehow forgotten is there, clears their throat.
She lets go of me and turns a dark shade of rose.
My mother stands, perfect as always, not overly dressed but on point in a classic black tailored dress and sensible heels. I can’t read her expression as she focuses on Scarlett and takes a seat without asking.
“Hudson, be a dear and get me a drink. A mint julep.”
I’m about to find a waitress when my mother pins me with a look. “From the bar.”
By the time I return, I’m already thinking how to spin this. Ryder’s not responding to my texts, which is typical. Weaving through the people to get to the oversize sofa and chair that’s tucked in the corner, I see my mother has now taken my place next to Scarlett.
As I sit, my mother takes the drink and barely acknowledges me, which I indulge. After all, it’s my mother and I need to play all this close to the bone.
But she’s smiling and even laughing with Scarlett, which shocks me a little. Not that my mother laughing is a shock, she’s been known to do that, but Scarlett isn’t the type of woman I’d normally pick, and I certainly don’t introduce them to the woman who birthed me, unless I run into my mother at an event.
“Good to see you having fun,” I say, sliding my gaze from one to the other.
