Page 89 of Impending Consent

Rival reached across the center console and linked his hand with mine. "She will. Just be yourself."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Myself isn’t the most likeable.”

"My wife is pretty damn impressive. Let her see that woman. The real you, Sail, not the lawyer mask you put on for strangers or to scare the shit out of people and you’ll be fine."

I nodded, trying to absorb his confidence. So much had changed between us. What started as a transaction had evolved into something that actually felt real. So real that I had gradually moved most of my things to his house. We established routines that felt natural. Morning coffee, well coffee for me, Rival watching while I drank it.

The point was spending time together before work, texting during the day, sharing dinner most nights, and him fucking me like he couldn’t get enough of my body. I even started spending time with him in his workshop, just sitting and working on my laptop while he worked on his pieces. We didn’t even talk, it was just about being there and that was scary because I liked being there. I had also stopped thinking about the end date of our arrangement.

"This is it," Rival announced, pulling into the driveway of a single story home with vibrant flower beds that looked very cliché but fit the space perfectly. "Home sweet home."

I took a deep breath and clutched the wine bottle but didn’t move.

“Sail, relax. I promise you’ll be fine.”

I exhaled a breath and nodded. "Let's do this."

Rival chuckled and went out, coming around to open my door. We barely made it halfway up the walkway before the front door swung open. His mother was tall and elegant, with the same complexion and eyes as her son had but her smile was different. It was wide and expanded across her face.

"There's my boy.” She stepped onto the porch with her arms open and Rival quickened his pace until he reached her. He grabbed his mother in a hug that lifted her off the ground. "Hey, Ma."

She laughed and hugged his neck affectionately once he set her down. "Still trying to break my ribs every time you see me."

"It's been a while. I missed you."

“Visit more and you won’t have to.” Her eyes shifted to me. "And this must be Sailor."

I stepped forward and extended my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hassan. Thank you for having us."

"Diana.” She bypassed my hand and pulled me into a hug. "You're family now, no matter how it happened. We don't do handshakes in this house."

The embrace was firm and genuine and some of my tension eased as I awkwardly returned it. When she pulled back, her eyes narrowed on my face.

"So you're the woman who managed to get my stubborn son to the altar. I might not love the way it happened but that alone makes you worth knowing."

"Ma," Rival groaned. "Can we at least get inside before you start embarrassing me?"

"Baby, I've got an entire weekend to embarrass you. I'm just getting started." She winked at me, linking her arm through mine. "Come on in. I've got lunch ready and I want to hear all about how you've been managing with this one."

The house was warm and inviting, filled with comfortable furniture, an overload of framed pictures of Rival, and handmade quilts. I also recognized several pieces I would be willing to bet Rival made just for her. As crazy as it was, being here made me feel the love between the two of them.

"Your home is beautiful.”

"Thank you, honey. It's nothing fancy but it's mine." Diana led us to a small dining room off the kitchen where the table was already set with colorful plates and fresh flowers. I lifted the bottle of wine I was still clutching. “I brought you this.”

She arched her brow and grinned. “That looks mighty fancy so I’m sure it will be great. Thank you.” She accepted it then motioned to her son.

"Rival, go wash up and grab the iced tea from the refrigerator. Sailor and I will get acquainted."

Rival shot me a questioning look that communicatedyou okay?and instead of begging him to stay, I nodded. He winked and disappeared down the hallway.

"Sit down, Sailor.” She gestured to a chair. "You must be tired after that flight."

"A little," I admitted, sliding into the seat.

"It’s a long trip for such a quick turnaround but I’m glad you’re here and first class probably helped I’m sure.” I cringed, assuming she was referencing that because of me, but then she added. “I told him to make sure you were comfortable. That son of mine appreciates nice things but hates spending money. Maybe you can help him live a little.”

I relaxed again and smiled. “Maybe.”

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