Page 18 of Married to Murder
“No. We don’t have to pretend to be in love or anything.” I grimaced. “But I did lie a little about how long we’ve known each other.”
“You did?” He recoiled. “Why?”
“I said we’d been dating six months. Just so they feel better about it all.”
He sighed. “God. What if I slip up?”
“It’ll be fine.”
It had been two weeks since Seth had agreed to my proposal. I was still in shock that he’d been willing to do it. Mostly I was relieved and thankful. I knew he was freaked-out about the whole situation, but so far he hadn’t tried to call it off. If he’d been going to bail, I assume he’d have done it before he went through the stress of meeting my family. I’d offered to meet his family too, but from the uptight look he’d gotten on his usually cheerful face, I’d assumed it was a sore subject, so I’d dropped it.
“We won’t stay long. They just want to get a look at you.”
He climbed out of the car, tugging at his tie. “I feel like an idiot in this suit.”
I ran my gaze over him, noticing how nicely the suit fit his body. The silky fabric cupped his biceps and thighs perfectly. “You look hot.”
He wiped his forehead. “Yeah. I’m sweating like a pig in this thing.”
I laughed. “No. I mean hot, as in sexy.”
“Oh.” He grimaced and his cheeks seemed pink. “Thanks.”
He came around the car, and we walked up the steps to my grandmother’s home. I rang the bell and the door opened. Robert, the butler, stood tall as a redwood, swaying slightly.
“Good evening, Mr. Trenton,” he said in a gravelly voice. He’d worked for my grandmother as long as I could remember. I didn’t know anyone else who had a butler except my grandmother, but I was glad poor Robert still had a job. I couldn’t tell if he enjoyed his work or not since he never cracked a smile. Over the years his hair had changed from charcoal to slate, and now it was white as a dove. He flicked his gaze to Seth, but his expression gave away zero information.
“How are you, Robert?” I asked, putting my hand on the small of Seth’s back and nudging him forward.
“Very well, sir.” Robert turned slowly, like a cargo freighter changing direction, and we followed him as he led us at a snail’s pace in the direction of the living room.
My grandmother’s house was dark and cool. It smelled of lemon polish and roses, and it always had. I remembered that scent from when I was a child. My grandmother had never been like the grandmothers on TV. She’d always been more reserved and didn’t like me sitting on her lap. She’d never read me stories or played with me. Perhaps she was why my dad was so emotionally cold. He’d never been affectionate with me either; our only real connection had been about business. My mother was warm though, probably because she’d had a more normal upbringing. Thank goodness for that because God knows what sort of cold asshole I’d have grown up to be if not for my mom.
When we entered the living room, my grandmother was seated in a high-back tapestry chair, scowling at my dad. My mother looked flushed and uneasy as she sat beside my dad on the sofa. When they noticed me and Seth in the doorway, they fell silent.
“Mr. Tanner has arrived.” Robert sounded monotone, and he immediately turned and shuffled back the way we’d come.
Seth pressed closer to me, as if seeking emotional support. I put my arm around his shoulders and guided him toward my family. My parents stood, and my grandmother remained seated. I bent down and kissed my grandmother first and then my mom.
“Hi, sweetie.” My mom hugged me warmly.
I shook my dad’s hand and then turned to Seth. “Everybody, I’d like you to meet, Seth… my fiancé.” That title rolled awkwardly off my tongue.
Seth stiffened but held out his hand to my dad. “Good to meet you, Mr. Trenton.”
“Likewise.” My dad’s face was a polite mask.
My mom moved forward and hugged Seth, and then she stood back and studied him. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you.” Seth brushed a shaky hand over his hair.
“I’ve been dying to see what this fella would look like.” My grandma squinted at Seth, pursing her lips. “Your hair’s a little on the long side.”
Seth gave a short laugh, looking uncertain.
I grimaced. “How about a ‘hello and welcome’ before you start criticizing your guest’s hair?”
Grandma shrugged her bony shoulders. “I’m ancient. I don’t have time for niceties.”
