Page 113 of Things I Overshared
“Uh-huh,” I mumble, focusing on his mouth moving down from my collarbone. “Um, will the Wannabe Duchess be there again?”
He smiles. “No. I’ll make sure of that.” He kisses me softly. “Father wants ‘to talk.’” He puts the words in air quotes. “So Mother’s having a lunch before we leave.”
“Okay.”
“It will be horrid, surely, but it will be bearable if you’re there.” I smile up at him. I resist the urge to say anything. “You know, I had an ulterior motive with this.” He runs a finger along the necklace. I furrow my brow instead of asking what he means. “I hoped to see you in it and nothing else.” He starts to tug at his shirt. The kaleidoscope of butterflies that has taken residence in my being starts their flurrying, but I remember my conversation with Nicole, and my mortification from yesterday.
“Uh, I should probably pack first. I don’t want to make us almost miss our train again.”
His face grows solemn, unreadable. “All right.”
I’m immediately disappointed. I appreciate how much he respects whatever I say, but I was hoping for more of a fight. After all, the point of running is that he’s supposed to start chasing. I sigh and focus on getting ready to go, and taking as long as I possibly can to do so.
_________
I can’t figure out why I’m so nervous as we pull up to his family’s estate. I guess because this time, our relationship is real. The stakes feel so much higher, but that’s just to me, and maybe to Emerson, as his family should be none the wiser. Still, I’m freaking out a bit.
The last couple days of final meetings back in London have been fine. More than fine, really. I have done a crap job of keeping my distance from my gorgeous man, because he is so adorably flirty as soon as clients aren’t looking. He steals squeezes and kisses, and at one point, he actually winked at me. Emerson Clark winked.
He hasn’t brought up my faux pax, which also means he hasn’t said anything close to the three big words himself. He also has not bought condoms, though I stopped pressing the issue in hopes to be more distant, as per the plan.
Other than a few knowing glances from Charlie and Trina, everything has progressed as usual both professionally and personally for our last two days back in London. We stay together in his bed at night, tucked in like two peas in a love pod. Now we’re headed to this lunch with his family, and I’m tied up in knots. I fidget with the necklace, which is a comforting reminder of all the things Emerson doesn’t say.
Today as we exit the car, Emerson grabs my hand and kisses it, then gives it a squeeze as we climb the familiar steps. When he rings the bell, he wraps both of our hands around my waist, tucking my arm back and kissing the side of my head.
“Thank you for coming,” he whispers before the door opens.
“Uncle Emmy!” exclaims a bundle of blond curls and lace ruffles that sprints onto the porch.
“Abigail, you’re a giant!” Emerson says with a huge smile that knocks the air out of my lungs, as if I were just physically assaulted. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him light up this way before, like an entire sunrise captured in a face. He wraps his arms around Abigail and lifts her up to a fit of giggles. She turns her bright eyes to me as soon as he sets her down.
I squat to her level right away. “Hi Abigail, I’m Samantha.”
“Hi!” she says brightly.
“Let me guess . . . are you, thirteen? Fourteen?”
“What!” She laughs. “I’m five!”
I feign shock. “Five! There’s no way. I thought you were for sure a teenager. Look how cool that dress is!”
“It is really cool, isn’t it?” She does a half twirl.
“So cool,” I agree.
“I like her,” she whispers to Emerson so loudly, the whole house can hear. We both laugh, and our laughter is joined by Layla and Evelyn, who are watching from the entry.
“You can call me Sam—all my best friends do,” I say loudly to her as we head inside.
“Okay, Sam!” she whispers back. “Do you want to go play dolls with me?”
Layla chimes in: “Maybe later, sweetie. Let’s have some lunch first.” We are greeted by the men, sans any cousins or business partners and their daughters, and then head to the dining room.
Halfway through our chicken course, Evelyn notices my necklace.
“Oh, thank you. Em got it for me while I went up the Eiffel Tower.” All eyes shift to Emerson.
“You didn’t take your girl up the tower?” Ben asks.
