Page 42 of Saint

Registering my tension, he commanded it to flee. I let his words sink in, preparing myself for whatever the night had ahead of me. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Saint had informed me that his parents were kind and generous, but I still rested my butt two inches from the edge of the seat as we drew closer to their home. Being beside him did alleviate some of my concerns. They hadn’t been vanquished, however. It wasn’t Saint’s fault. I hadn’t met a man’s family for such a stretch that I’d almost forgotten I was a grown-ass woman. No one would be making me uncomfortable in my own skin. It had become my mantra well before we crossed paths.

The Miller estate looked like an image torn from the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. The home was gated for privacy, with hedges lining the perimeter. We entered through black, Venice-style steel gates to reveal a marvel of a home. Fashioned in French colonial architecture, the whitewashed brick home was a sight to behold. Pink magnolia trees adorned the front landscape, and from behind the home, there was a distinct view of Paramour Canyon. From where we stood, the canyon was near walking distance, and behind that view was a view of the city.

Saint pulled up to the front of the house, easily sliding behind several cars already lodged in the wrap-around driveway. Astray in the view, I didn’t notice him open my door until he cleared his throat.

“Ahem, Beauty.”

As he intercepted my hand, I exited the car, taking note of little details like the grand design of the driveway. Black and white geometric patterns lined the brick flooring, leaving me to wonder what the inside of the home looked like. As we neared the front door, my heart leapt into my throat. Swallowing my nerves, my elaborate nails dug into Saint’s arm.

“Aight, Tori. You’re going to have us both out here banging our heads and curling toes,” he warned in a whisper.

“Did you just make a joke, Saint Miller?” I teased, feeling myself lighten. Just a bit.

Collecting my chin and tilting upward, he kissed my lips. “I did, Beauty. Now come on.”

I knew it was a jest made to help me relax, and it did, but my weighty sigh only came with perspiring underarms and clammy hands. Still, we continued our approach to the front door. Before Saint could reach for the door proper, it swung open with haste.

“Bout time you made it, damn! I’m hungry.”

The emphatic remark came from a young woman who shared Saint’s complexion. Her lashes were at least half an inch long, and her makeup was impeccable. Her youthfulness was apparent in comparison to Saint. This must have been…

“Serenity,” Saint nodded at her. “This is Victoria, my wife.”

Serenity gave her brother a one-armed hug. Had I not known of his need for distance, I would have thought it strange. He told me he was close with his siblings but apparently not as close as he and I were. Not as close as I thought.

“You’re pretty as fuck,” Serenity grinned in my direction, stepping aside to allow us entry.

“Thank you,” I giggled, admiring Serenity’s brazenness. She reminded me of my friend, Dream.

“No problem. Pretty bitches complement other pretty bitches.”

I didn’t expect her to loop her arm around my free one and walk with us inside. “You’re the first woman any of my brothers has brought home. Just an FYI. My mom is probably going to grill you,” she announced.

The smell of her body mist hit me first. Something peachy and tropical, it was nice, much like her nugget of information. Significant as I thought her scent was, it was immediately muted by the smell of food as we entered deeper into the foyer. My senses identified collard greens and macaroni with a quickness. Immediately, my stomach churned for rations which my nose located to the far left.

The kitchen.

From that space came a woman who looked like Serenity, though slightly older. Assuming her to be the mother of the magnificent beings I’d held the pleasure of meeting, I admired her beauty. Mrs. Miller had a healthy serving of everything, from her full lips to her plump cheeks and down to her curvy hips. I was certain her husband was never left wanting.

“Saint!”

Her greeting was low as she approached. She planted a kiss on his cheeks, which he returned. Once the two exchanged greetings, her gaze fell on me.

“This is Victoria, mama. My wife.”

“Hello,” she purred, outstretching a hand to greet me.

The announcement of my presence caused a shift in her demeanor. Quickly, I sensed the change in her energy as well. She was studying me. Who was the woman who’d managed to settle down with her son, void of an invitation to any ceremony –small or otherwise? It was what I would think if I were in her position. I didn’t fault her suspicion.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller,” I spoke, returning the simple hand gesture.

Mrs. Miller’s eyes raked me from head to toe.

“I suppose I should be returning that sentiment, Mrs. Miller,” she tossed.

My supposition proved accurate. Mrs. Miller harbored feelings about my union with her son. She smirked as she dropped my hand and eased away from us both.

“You all can make your way to the dining area. Dinner will be served promptly. We’ve been waiting long enough,” she tossed the jab as she sashayed away.

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