Page 86 of The Proposal Pact
My lips pull into a one-sided smirk at her words. “I take it you liked the text this morning? Was that good enough for you, wife? Or shall I call you, Fiona now?” Just the memory of what she turnedme into this morning and the words I wrote to her, makes my dick twitch—that ridiculous nickname be damned.
Sophie rolls her lips to hide that little smirk of hers. “It was adequate.”
“Adequate?” I deadpan.
“Mm-hmm. B-minus,” she says and takes a step away.
“Oh, you little—” I lunge for her, but the little menace sees it coming and jumps with a squeak, running away from me.
Sucks for her, I didn’t train half my life in the Navy for nothing. In two seconds, my arms wrap around her small waist, lifting her off the ground.
“Baklava! Shrek! You’ll make me crush the baklava! Set me down,” she screams through laughter. “I need this dessert to get at least some points tonight.”
I groan, we are back to that. Setting her down, I twist her so she faces me and cup her cheeks again. “Sophie, my mom loves freaking raccoons. Trust me, she’ll love you.”
“Did you just seriously compare me to a raccoon?”
“What? You are both cute and can reign terror all around you in the span of twenty seconds flat.”
“Callum Clover—” My laughter breaks off her high-pitched scream.
“I’m just kidding! I’m just kidding!”
“Funny,” she spits out, narrowing her eyes but there’s no heat behind the words.
“Please, relax. I promise you got nothing to worry about. Mom will probably talk your ear off and ask you to call her Mom, not Lily, but”—I tip her chin up, making sure she’s looking at me—“if you don’t want to do this, just say the word and we’re out of here. We don’t have to have this dinner.”
I can feel the deep breath she takes, “Thank you,” Sophie whispers. “Let's go do this.”
My face falls. “Damn it, I really hoped you’d say to hell with it and we could leave.”
Her laugh carries with us all the way to the front door and only dies when my mom opens the door.
“Hi,Mom,” I greet her.
“Callum, honey,” she says with a wide smile, immediately wrapping me into one of her bear hugs. When she pulls away, the beaming smile gets replaced with one so strained I’m not sure I’ve ever witness anything like it as her gaze travels to Sophie, eyeing her from top to bottom. “Sophie, right?”
“Hi, Mrs. Lovinski. It’s lovely to meet you. I’ve—we’ve—brought some baklava for dessert.” She extends it over to my mother, who takes it with a tight-lipped smile.
“Thank you. Well, come in,” she says briskly and walks away even before we make it through the threshold.
“What the fuck was that?” I muse to myself, staring after my mother. Never in my thirty-four years of life have I seen her act as such.
I wasn’t kidding when I told Sophie she literally loves everything and everyone. So, what in the ever-loving-fuck was that cold attitude for?
“Well, it looks like the raccoon is winning this one.” Sophie dons on a strained smile of her own but not before I catch the crestfallen look on her face.
I take her hand and lead her into the living room where Julie and Griffin are already sitting on the couch, chatting with Dad. Isabella and Andrew, Griff’s parents, are here as well.
“Hello, everyone,” I greet them all at once and introduce Sophie as my wife. Thankfully, Dad is exactly how I expected him to be, smiling and happy to meet her. Genuinely happy, and I can feel Sophie breathe a little easier.
So are Andrew and Isabella who were much like parents to me when we were growing up.
We barely get through introductions when Mom shouts, “Dinner is ready! Let’s eat.” And we all file into the dining room.
Whatever calm Sophie was feeling just a second ago, vanishes as soon as we sit at the table and Mom plays the perfect hostess, her usual self to everyone but my wife. She’s chatting to everyone but deliberately overlooks Sophie who keeps shrinking further and further into her chair, mindlessly pushing food around her plate.
Her colorful presence dimming by a second, and I fucking hate it.
