Our heads whirled toward the front door as Amanda’s disembodied voice floated up from the outer hall.
“I wake up naked, in the bed of a man. Extract myself from having the greatest sex ever to recharge with a little coffee. Spot the newspaper lying on the counter, and low and behold, what do I find…?”
Her voice trailed off in shock as she pushed open the front door and saw Marcus standing beside me. For a moment, she flushed. Then she gestured to us as if it was all part of her plan.
“The happy couple.”
There was a beat of silence. We all three looked different directions, trying to come up with something to say. I looked at the phone; Amanda looked at her nails. Deevus yowled pitifully for attention and collapsed in the middle of our awkward triangle.
Then Marcus rushed suddenly forward, bending over backward to play as nice as humanly possible. “You must be Amanda—it’s a real pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Marcus Taylor.” He offered a hand.
Still shaken, Amanda lifted her hand, but suddenly hesitated, glancing instead in my direction. “Are we…happy about this?” she looked around. “Hey, where’s Barry.”
“He let Markus in, but then I didn’t see him when I got up.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be back. I’ll text him.” She looked at Marcus. “Do you…uh…do you want a cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
I’d finally plucked up the courage to dial my mother. The line on the other end tolled ominously with each unanswered ring. I’d ignored my mom. Now my mom was going to make me work for it. I hung up and called again.
My mouth went dry and my face went pale as the phone line opened. It was the literal calm before the storm. The only sound on both ends was each of our tense breathing.
My eyelids snapped shut as I weighed my options. I knew I’d get to say about one sentence before she really let me have it. “Hi, Mom! So you’ll never guess what happened?”
Sure enough, she was off.
“Do-not-hey-mom-me-I-know-exactly-what-you’ve-been-up-to-you-little-Judas-because-I-read-about-it-in-the-papers-and-if-you-think—”
Amanda instantly forgot her coffee amends and sank down with me on the couch, holding my hand and listening in silence as I held the phone between us.
It took awhile, and it wasn’t pretty. We flinched at all the same times. And during the whole rampage, all I could think was—this fucking, gorgeous billionaire got me into this mess by doing the most romantic, charming, wonderful thing in the world. Halfway through, I looked up into those spellbinding eyes and he touched my arm as if offering me encouragement.
“Okay, Mom,” I said after a ten-minute rant. “I love you too, and I’m excited to see you. I can’t wait for you to meet…Marcus.”
“Did you forget his name?” Amanda mouthed accusingly.
I shook my head and smacked her as my mother hung up in a huff. She had been only partially appeased by the fact that my “intended” was a beautiful philanthropist with more money than Donald Trump. That still left plenty of room for vitriol and shrill-screaming betrayal. I could tell from the fading jingling of a dog bell that Mugsy—her little Pekingese—had run for cover. According to Mother, neglecting to tell her I was dating someone until we got engaged was an oversight of Titanic proportions. I’d tried to counter by going the “it all happened really fast—we haven’t known each other all that long” route, but to be fair, even I don’t know why I’d thought that might work any better. She was flying down first thing tomorrow morning, she’d said. That is, unless I just wanted to marry him first and introduce her afterward.
When it was over, I set the phone down on the coffee table with a grimace. Amanda bit her lip and stared at the excuses she’d been rapidly scribbling on a piece of binder paper, jabbing them with a pencil for me to interject. I’d done my best, but things like “I was just as surprised as you are” didn’t sound quite as convincing in the cold light of day. Not to mention…they struck a little too close to home.
As our heart rates slowly returned to normal, both Amanda and I glared accusingly at Marcus. A second later, Deevus hopped up on the couch to join us. In perhaps a greater testament to self-preservation than remorse, Marcus had the decency to flush and look away.
“Well, she’s flying down to meet you,” I said, smiling. “I hope you’ll like your new fake mother-in-law.”
Amanda sighed sympathetically. “You can’t lie to her like that.”
“I have no choice. And I really feel bad about it.”
She looked at Marcus. “You shouldn’t have involved Becca’s family. Now that’s crossing the line.”
“I didn’t think it would come to all of this.”
Amanda blew out a long breath. “Maybe being stuck with a future mother-in-law is punishment.”
I leaned back against the cushions and closed my eyes with a tired sigh. “He’ll find a way to spin it to his advantage.”