Page 68 of The Proposal
She sighs happily. “We’ll talk soon. Enjoy your honeymoon.”
“Love you. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, sweet boy.”
I exhale and turn off my phone, tossing it onto the sofa.
Blakely shrugs. “Is it weird that I just met my mother-in-law for the first time on a phone call?”
“Nah. Everything I do has a bit of irregularity involved. It’s to be expected.”
She laughs.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“Starving.”
“Great. Follow me.”
We enter the kitchen to a spread of food delivered just before Foxx came by with the ring.
“I didn’t know what you like,” I say, a rush of frustration over that simple fact filling me again. “So I ordered a few things.”
“A few things?” She leans over the table and inspects the dishes. “There are three, four—five main courses here.” Her head twists to me. “You could’ve just asked what I wanted and saved yourself a hefty sum of cash.”
I chuckle, opening a bottle of wine and pouring us each a glass. “Yes, but you were supposed to be enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to put the burden of what’s for dinner on your shoulders.”
She slumps before shoving off the table. “That’s the sweetest thing.”
“Wow. Don’t set your expectations too high.”
She laughs, accepting a glass from me. “What are my options?”
“We have Jerusalem artichokes with local mushrooms, scotch fillet, a mussel dish with leeks and saffron, and beef tartare with karkalla seaweed. And a chocolate cake for dessert.”
“You got a chocolate cake?”
“I promised you one for your birthday and then kind of married you instead.”
She hums and takes a seat at the table. “Look at me now, getting the best of both worlds.”
“I’d hold off on saying that.”
“Why?” She watches me sit across from her, smug. “Do you have plans to show me something better?”
My cock twitches to life. I want to answer her, to tell her exactly what I plan on showing her. But if I do, it’ll only embolden her. It’ll drive her much crazier if I ignore it.
“What do you usually have for dinner?” I ask, taking artichokes from the dish.
She blinks, momentarily confused. Her recovery is quick and rather impressive. “It depends if I’m alone or with someone.”
I spear a piece of vegetable a bit harder than necessary.
“If I’m alone, I’ll do a simple pasta or takeout,” she says. “But if I’m with someone, I’ll make chicken or a steak—whatever they like that I have on hand.”
“It’s good you won’t have that problem anymore.”
She scoops a mussel onto her plate. “Oh really? Why?”
