Page 137 of Don't Make Me Beg
Her shoulders stiffen, and she blinks several times, like she wasn’t expecting me to be so blunt. “Well, I was invited. I couldn’t miss my only daughter’s wedding reception, now, could I?” She slides her glasses down her nose, adjusting them. “I even dressed up for the occasion.”
At that, I tilt my head, my brows raising in question.
She holds out a hand to introduce herself, and I just stare at it. “Samantha Sinclair, PhD of Literature.”
It’s Luka who takes her hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Samantha.”
The warmth that spreads through my heart at that simple gesture, when he has more reason than anyone to hold a grudge, melts me from inside out.
Since everything went down at the festival and my father’s crimes surfaced, he was sentenced to five years in prison. While Jimmy’s actions as his accomplice landed him three years.
My mother was spared any backlash after she and my father both admitted on the record, she had no knowledge of any of his business dealings. I wasn’t sure if I believed her at first, but now that she’s had some separation from my father, many of her neurotic tendencies have seemed to decline. I’ve tried to give her as much grace as I can, while still holding her accountable for the harm she’s caused me.
I think she’s still confused, trying to figure out who she is for the first time in her life.
“Well, it was good to see you, dear. You look… beautiful,” she says, her nasally voice strained like she forced the words out. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I should probably make my rounds. I hope you make time to say your thank yous…” Her words trail off as if catching herself, and she folds her thin lips into a flat line, then nods goodbye before heading off to start up a conversation with Paige, Hazel, and Lucy, who seem to be dressed as Charlie’s Angels.
“That was…”
“Awkward,” I say, finishing Luka’s sentence.
As awkward as she may be, I suppose there’s some merit to hertrying. I can’t say that our relationship will ever go back to a normal mother-daughter dynamic. But if she’s willing to change, then I can be patient while she figures things out.
I’m just glad Luka’s on the same page. This man never ceases to amaze me with how big his heart is.
“Is that the couple of honor?” We turn around as Miss Scarlett waves a purple pompom before walking over. She’s dressed in what appears to be her high school cheerleading uniform, though probably a bit snugger than it originally fit.
“Hey, Miss Scarlett. Thank you for coming.” Luka greets her with a warm hug. “You’re looking sexy as ever this evening.”
She waves a pompom and flicks a bright red, curled strand of hair off her shoulder. “Of course, dear. I wouldn’t miss a chance to celebrate you two love birds for the world.” She gives me a hug, kissing each of my cheeks, and whispers so only I can hear her, “You gotta keep things exciting, dear. Never stop dressing up. The fellas love it.”
I try to hold back a laugh as I nod in understanding when I hear a man’s voice yell over the music. “Scarlett? Where’d you go?” Fergus looks around the room. And it’s hard to take him seriously with his ruffled, poofy white shirt and the giant parrot bobbing around on his shoulder. “Has anyone seen a red-headed cheerleader?” He calls again.
Scarlett gives him a pompom’d wave. “Over here, Gus!” She turns back to Luka and me and shrugs. “Looks like I’m being summoned. I’ll catch back up with you two later!”
We watch Miss Scarlett jog back over to Fergus, who’s resorted to using a collapsible telescope to find her. But when she accidentally collides with a football player, we both burst out laughing.
“Who is that?” I ask as my eyes follow them.
Luka squints as he studies the pair as Miss Scarlett playfully slaps a pompom against the football player’s chest. She’s leaning in as he whispers something in her ear.
Then, as if everyone seems to realize it at the same time, the collective mumbles fill the air.
“Dr. Drizzle!” Mrs. Kingsley’s shrieks, her voice a pitch higher than usual and sounding nothing like Morticia. “I’m so glad you were able to make it!”
Luka chokes on a laugh as a moment later, Mr. Kingsley stands beside his wife, his arm wrapped around her possessively as he gives the guest a curt nod.
Across the room, all the men seem to follow suit, pulling their partners in a similar possessive hold. Even Guy and Roman sneak to get a closer look. They think they’re being inconspicuous, hiding behind a table, but the sexy cowboy in chaps—Guy—and the Roman soldier—Roman—have a way of standing out in a crowd.
“I guess the Drizzle-effect is no joke,” I laugh.
Luka takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor as the band begins playing a slow song. “Then I’m not going to tempt fate.” His hand wraps possessively around my low back as he pulls me flush against his chest.
We sway to music
I take his hand as he twirls me around, our bodies swaying in rhythm like we’ve done this a million times. You wouldn’t guess by Luka’s tattooed exterior that he’s such a graceful dancer, and despite the years of training of my own, I still find myself struggling not to step on his toes.
I used to hate ballroom dancing. All the cotillion lessons my mother insisted I needed growing up felt like such a waste of time, so robotic and pointless. But dancing with Luka feels more like kissing. The way our bodies move together, the give and take of each movement. It’s intimate, and time seems to stand still as I let myself fall into that blissful, sated state where I know Luka will be there to catch me.
