Page 25 of The Other One

“Abigail, you made it.” She leans in for a kiss on the cheek.

“I told you I would,” I say, pulling away.

“Yes, well…” Her thought trails away as she takes in Jackson standing next to me, a genuine smile gracing her lips.

My mother daintily holds out her hand for introductions. “You must be Jackson. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Loretta Barnes.” Her voice is light and sweet, really playing up her Southern charm.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Barnes,” he says, shaking her hand.

“Oh, please call me Loretta. We don’t stand on formalities around here.” I nearly laugh at that one but quickly gain control of myself. Don’t stand on formalities, my ass.

My mother ushers us into the house. “Let me find Marshall to help you with your bags.”

“No need, Loretta. I booked Abigail and me a suite at a hotel.” Jackson smiles at my mother in that charming way that he reserves for the cameras. It almost looks like she swoons for a moment before gaining her composure.

Yeah, join the club.

“I believe I told you that Jackson and I were making other arrangements. I knew you would have your hands full with the wedding, and we didn’t want to be underfoot.” I’m positive I told her, actually. But I’m sure she did what she always does, disregarding what I have to say in favor of her plans.

“Oh, yes. I have just been so busy with Cesily’s wedding that it must have slipped my mind. Can you come in and stay for some tea? I just made it this morning.”

I would bet dollars to donuts that the housekeeper made it, not her.

“That would be lovely, thank you, Loretta.” Jackson’s smooth voice expertly cuts through my irritation. “Please, lead the way.”

Into the mouth of hell we go.

Chapter 10

Jackson

Turningonthecharmis second nature to me, and Abigail’s mother eats it up. She’s pleasant enough when she invites me into the sitting room. But all I can think of as we have a seat on her uncomfortable and very formal cream couches, is how awful this woman made Abigail feel.

No matter what the woman says, she is the very definition of formal in her pale pink pantsuit with a string of honest to God pearls around her neck. There isn’t a hair out of place in spite of how many times she claims to have been running around like a lunatic trying to doeverythingfor her daughter’s wedding. I don’t buy it. There’s no doubt in my mind she has a staff of at least ten doing it all.

“I thought I heard company,” a booming voice calls from the hallway. A towering man in his sixties comes sauntering in the room with a wide smile aimed at Abigail.

“Hey, Dad.” Abigail rises from the sofa and walks to her dad, wrapping her arms around his thick middle.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m glad you could make it. Your mother has been so excited to have you home.” Abigail smiles up at him, not bothering to acknowledge the comment. She knows it’s a lie for her benefit. My understanding of her father is that though he wasn’t complicit in the scheming to get Davis and Abigail back together after the dumbass blew it, he didn’t exactly stand up for his daughter.

“Good to see you. Let me introduce you to Jackson.”

Standing from my seat, I hold out my hand to Abigail’s father. “Jackson Hayes. Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Marshall Barnes.” He grips my hand in his meaty palm and squeezes in a firm but amiable shake.

“Marshall, honey, can I get you a glass of tea?” Loretta asks.

“Sure, Loli. Thanks.” Abigail glances at her mother with an expectant expression, but Loretta just smiles and leaves the room. I look at Abigail to try to determine what that look meant, but she isn’t paying me any attention.

When Loretta returns with our tea, which is so damn sweet I’ll be making an appointment with my dentist as soon as we get back, she takes a seat next to Marshall and settles in for a “meet the boyfriend” chat. Abigail takes her seat next to me, and I take the opportunity to link our hands. She shoots me a nervous look, and a reassuring smile stretches across my face.

“Marshall, did you hear that Jackson’s brother is a newly elected senator?” Loretta asks her husband.

“I did. Nasty business, politics. Your father was a congressman as well, if memory serves.”

“He was, Mr. Barnes. My mother made him retire after his heart attack, which he was none too thrilled about. Now it’s my brother’s turn to take the helm.” I smile and sip my tea, successfully avoiding choking on its syrupy sweetness.

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