Page 79 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

Henry had set the reservations for seven thirty. Since I got off work at four, I went home to spend a couple hours with Mom before I dressed. She gave a low, impressed whistle as soon as I exited the bedroom, trying to figure out the cuff links.

“My goodness, don’t you look handsome?”

I glanced over to where she sat in her worn-out chair, wearing a floral muumuu and watching Wheel of Fortune on TV with her walker sitting next to her. An ache rippled through me. How many evenings had we sat in here, eating in our chairs and watching this show together? I felt as if I were abandoning her to go off and try to be something I wasn’t.

For a moment, I wanted to call the whole thing off. I didn’t belong with Isobel. I was their handyman, their charity case. I belonged here with my mother, making sure she stayed safe and healthy. But then I remembered the excitement on Isobel’s face when she’d kissed me goodbye only hours ago.

She had brushed the backs of her knuckles along my jaw and murmured, “See you at seven,” and there was no way in hell I could disappoint her.

“Does my tie look straight?” I asked Mom.

“You look perfect,” she answered, something bright and satisfied glittering in her eyes before she added, “I’m so proud of you, Shaw. This is the kind of life I always wanted for you.”

I paused, not sure exactly what kind of life that was. The one where I felt stuck between two worlds, spending all day in the high life and taking luxury showers, only to come home to my one-room apartment that more often than not stank of the litter box for my neighbor’s cat. I felt like a poser.

I think that was all my mom saw, though. The suit I wore and the hair I had combed back. So she assumed I’d turned into some kind of suave, well-to-do man, or something.

“You like this girl, don’t you?”

And that was all it took to calm me down. This was about the girl, not the suit.

I nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Mom grinned. “Then bring her by sometime. I want to meet her.”

More nerves filled my gut as I imagined Isobel here, seeing the way I lived, meeting my mother who never brushed her hair and rarely showered. I wasn’t sure what she’d think of me. Of us. And then there was Mom. I knew she’d never be openly rude to Isobel, but what if she said something about Isobel’s scars or money to upset her? I wanted the two to meet and like each other. It made me stress and worry something would go wrong.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said as I crossed the room to bend down and kiss Mom’s paper-thin cheek. “You’re staying in tonight, right?” I asked. “I saw the janitor mopping on the main floor, he’ll probably do the stairs before the night’s over. I don’t want you slipping and falling.”

Mom tsked and patted my arm. “Don’t worry about me. Just go, have fun.”

“Okay, then. I love you.”

I left with another kiss to her forehead and a glance at the television where a man was spinning the wheel and the crowd was clapping. It was nearly seven by the time I reached the truck. With a half hour to pick up Isobel and make it to Urbane in time for our reservations, I started to Porter Hall, humming under my breath as I nervously tapped my fingers against the steering wheel.

The gate opened as soon as I pulled into the driveway and before I could even push the button to announce myself. Someone had been waiting and watching for me. Hopefully Isobel. The idea that she was anxious for tonight made my blood race and my own anxieties rise. I didn’t want to disappoint her.

I almost expected her to open the door and step outside as soon as I rolled to a stop in front of the entrance. But she didn’t. I parked and turned off the engine. After alighting, I skirted the bumper, took ten steps up the front steps, hurried between the lane of solar lights that looked like hanging lanterns and stepped under the overhang before I rang the doorbell.

Henry answered, his gaze probing and curious when he let me in. But after a single once-over, he nodded in approval.

“I knew Ezra would find you something nice. You’ll match Izzy perfectly.”

I glanced around for her, but she wasn’t in the foyer. Hoping she wasn’t going to skip out on me, I gulped, my palms growing damper.

“The silly girl wanted to race right out to you,” Henry told me on an eye roll. “But I made her wait until you were inside so she could make an entrance.”

Snickering, I glanced over. “It’s not the prom, you know.”

With a scowl, her dad muttered, “Well, it might as well be. She never did make it to her prom.”

I started to respond, but he bumped his elbow into mine and pointed up to the second level where the staircase began.

The vision that stood there took my breath away. In a black, ankle-length gown, Isobel began to descend.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

She looked stunning. The dress was nice, with shiny black sequins on the tight bodice, one-inch straps over her shoulders and a silken skirt that flowed out from the cinched waist. But she was the one who made i

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