Page 36 of One Night Bride
With a loud swish of the comforter as I moved, I came around the bed to stop Esme. Her gaze lifted to mine, the worry clear as day. I pushed her hair behind her shoulder and grazed my thumb down her cheek.
“It’s going to be okay. We’ll handle this together,” I assured her. And I meant it. We were a team, not because of the marriage license, but because I believed in her.
Her shoulders inched down from her ears, and while the wild, worried look hadn’t left her eyes, she seemed willing to accept my help. She dipped her head, and I kissed her forehead before getting out of the way so she could get ready for the day.
I stood in the doorway of her bedroom. “Meet you in the kitchen in a bit? I’ll make omelettes.”
She gave me a half smile, and I figured that was the best I’d get from her while she was panicked. The situation wasn’t ideal, but I’m sure it would all blow over.
I’d just slid our omelettes onto plates when Esme came down the stairs. Her thumbs flew over the screen of her phone. The girl didn’t even look up as she maneuvered through the living room and into the kitchen where she plopped down on a barstool in another business outfit that made me want to mess her up; tweed pants with a bright red shirt and lipstick to match. Her dark hair hung straight as a pin down her back.
“I had my assistant cancel my appointments this morning so we can come up with a positive spin in case this gets out to the general public. Poppy is only friends with people in Auburn Hill, so I doubt this will get out to my following, but we can’t be too sure. Better to make a solid plan and get out ahead of this thing.”
I frowned, putting the hot pan in the sink to cool. She salted her eggs and took a bite, and all the while she hadn’t looked at me. This was not how I wanted our morning after to go. I’d wanted an intimate breakfast, maybe coffee in bed. Not public relations strategizing like we’d done something wrong.
“Esme,” I started, wanting to reconnect with her before we got into the details of her plan. “We didn’t actually do anything wrong. You know that, right?”
Her head whipped up, and she swallowed before answering, her gaze darting away from me. “Sure. I mean, I know I’m an adult and can do whatever I want with a man, but implying I have a thing with a stripper isn’t the image I’d like out there.”
My eyebrows flew up. “It’s not the image I want either, but I think you’re taking this way too—”
Whatever I would have said got cut off by the doorbell ringing. And then ringing again. And again.
“Jesus,” Esme grumbled. “It has to be my family. No one else would be that rude.” She slid off the barstool and headed over to get the door.
“Esme Waldo, we taught you better than to have strippers at your party! Is that why you wouldn’t let me come to your retreat?”
I couldn’t quite see the door from my seat at the bar, but that voice sounded familiar.
“Mom! Dad!” Esme’s voice held more than a note of surprise.
Shit. I put my fork down with a clank. I wouldn’t be eating anytime soon based on the nerves that hit my gut knowing Esme’s parents were here. That definitely wasn’t what I had planned for the morning after we finally got back in bed together.
“He’s still here?” her dad boomed, coming around the corner and seeing me sitting at the bar.
“Chief Waldo, sir. Nice to see you again.” I stood and put my hand out.
He stared at my hand with narrowed eyes before reluctantly shaking. His grip was strong, a not-to-subtle clue he was not happy with me.
“Mrs. Waldo.” I nodded to Esme’s mom as she came into the kitchen, giving her a smile that faded when she only lifted a single eyebrow at me. Well, shit, now I knew where Esme got that look from.
“I would like an explanation,” Mrs. Waldo said to Esme, her tone holding an edge of hurt behind the anger.
Esme sighed and then pulled herself up straight like she was ready for the firing squad.
“How about we head into the living room where we’ll be more comfortable?” I suggested, gesturing in that direction. I wasn’t going to let Esme do all the talking and take all the blame. She and I were in this together, and I intended to prove that to her right now.
Her parents filed out of the kitchen, but not before Chief Waldo bared his teeth at me and Esme shook her head at his antics. I put my hand on her back and guided her to the living room, sitting right next to her on the couch while her parents took the two chairs.
Esme looked over at me, looking far younger than the image she portrayed as a successful business woman. “I’m going to tell them the whole truth,” she said softly.
“That would be a nice start,” her mom bantered back.
Esme cringed. I nodded at her, thinking honesty would be the best policy, though I hadn’t taken that route with my own parents. Esme turned to face them.
“Remington and I are married,” she blurted out.
I blinked, thinking I would have warmed them up to that idea, but ripping the Band-Aid off might be a good approach too. Reaching over, I took her hand in mine and gave her a squeeze.
