Part-Time Lover (Part-Time Lover #1)(40)
“It wasn’t that kind of a ceremony.” He looks across the table to me, his eyes holding mine for a beat that extends longer than I expect it to. “Besides, it was just between us.”
My heart does something that feels like it’s rolled over, flopped on its back, and put its legs in the air. Dog that it is, I tell that organ to sit up and focus.
“Be that as it may,” she says, looking to me, “I am delighted to meet you, Elise. Now, tell me everything about the wedding.”
I laugh, then give her the sparse details about our brief and perfunctory ceremony and show her the rings.
She sighs happily, shielding her eyes from the bright afternoon sun reflecting off the harbor. “Thank you for allowing me to experience it vicariously. He didn’t let me go to his first wedding either.”
I tilt my head, surprise hitting me hard. “You didn’t?”
Christian shakes his head. “We were married in the United States. Vegas, baby, Vegas.”
“You eloped,” I say, as if the plot is thickening.
“Sort of,” he says, laughing as he points at his mom. “Anyway, she gave me hell then. No need to do it again.”
“That’s my job. To give you hell.” She snaps her gaze to me. “Although, I do hope you’ll pick up the slack when I’m unable to give him hell. You have free rein to give him a hard time as much as you want.”
“I appreciate the maternal blessing, and I will do my best to follow the directive,” I say as the waitress arrives with three flutes of champagne.
His mother raises her glass, and we follow suit, clinking. “To the brilliant plan my sons hatched, and to the brilliant woman who’s making it all possible.” Her voice lowers. “My father—their grandfather—had the softest heart, but perhaps not always the most realistic expectations. I appreciate you making everything right for my Erik. I feel terrible for what happened to him.”
“It’s the least I can do,” I say, and I’m glad this deal has been beneficial for both of us, or else I’d feel like some sort of martyr to the cause. But Christian has already prepped loads of business analysis and insight for my upcoming meeting with the travel client. His market analysis was spot-on and seems like something of a secret weapon.
“It’s not nothing. It’s everything.” She glances at her son. “And maybe when you knock her up and have a baby, you’ll at least let me come to the birth.”
I nearly choke on my champagne. Bubbles shoot up my nose, tickling it, and a cough bursts from my throat.
“Mum, you’re incorrigible,” Christian chides.
“And where do you think you learned to be incorrigible from? The master.” She smiles at me, a hint of wicked delight in her eyes. “Just teasing about the baby,” she says playfully, then drops her voice to a whisper. “But not really. If he puts a baby in you, I’m not going to sit out the birth. I’ll follow you around till you pop.”
I laugh because there’s nothing to say to that. There will be no baby, no popping, and no true mommy/daughter-in-law bonding. Even so, I think I love her already, and since she’s been so blunt, I decide to assuage my own curiosity. “I have a question for you. Why did you say finally about meeting? Has Christian been telling you about me?”
“A year ago, he mentioned he’d met a woman on the boat tour and was very much looking forward to seeing her. And when he ran into you again at the garden bar, he called me and said, ‘You’re never going to believe it, Mum, but the little mermaid popped back into my life.’”
I rein in a grin as I make a check mark in a mental column of pros and cons about this man—told his mother about me the night we met again. Definite pro.
Christian slaps a hand on the table. “This conversation really ought to stop right now. The two of you are thoroughly embarrassing me.”
I smile and laugh, meeting her gaze with the sort of look that says embarrassing him is what a mother and a daughter-in-law should do, and in this moment, we are indeed bonding. As I drink my champagne, I’m happier than I should be that he’s introduced me to his mother.
I’m even happier that she’s known about me from the start.
*
On the spectrum of things I’ve never expected, stepping into a marriage of convenience would be at the top of the list. Spending my wedding night at an amusement park would be a close second.
The spinner ride whips precariously high and my stomach rises in tandem, lodging in my esophagus. The giant gold eagle we ride in flips over, leaving us hanging upside down, high in the sky. I scream, a blood-curdling noise. The sound turns into a screech as the eagle rights us again, then sends us downward in a fast, wicked whoosh. One exhilarating, heart-pounding minute later, the ride slows, and soon, it crawls to a stop. The world is still wobbly, but the bar rattles loose and lifts up.
Christian sets his hand on my arm, steadying me as I stand, emerging from Aquila, the golden eagle ride at Tivoli Gardens. I grab my purse from the locker and slide on my glasses.
He rubs his ear. “You are loud, woman.”
“So are you,” I say, as the attendant opens the exit gate, and we pour out along with a few dozen other sky warriors who braved the thrill ride.
Christian, still wearing his suit but with his tie gone and stuffed into his pocket, shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t. I was stoic and tough.”