He stares back.
“You’re stubborn,” I sigh. He grins.
He limps, but he walks to the car unassisted.
After we’re strapped into my car, I turn to him.
“If my father is rude to you, we’ll leave.”
Brand rolls his eyes.
“No, we won’t. We’ll do whatever it is that you need to go to do. It doesn’t matter to me if your dad is rude. Trust me, I can take it.”
His voice soothes me. His presence soothes me. His smile soothes me. Everything about him is calming, like a tonic, and I nod.
“Okay.”
The drive doesn’t take long, of course, and while I wish we could linger in the car out in the driveway, we can’t.
Brand looks at me. “Ready?”
No.
“Yeah.”
My mother opens the door before we even reach it, pulling me into a hug. She looks beautiful, of course.
“Ma belle fille,” she sings, kissing my cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”
She pulls me into the house in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. She looks over my shoulder.
“And you,” she beams at Brand. “Thank you for everything you did for Nora that terrible day.” She glances at his leg. “I’m so sorry you were hurt. It’s terrible. Can I get you anything?”
I nod. “A water would be nice.”
And a valium.
Brand shakes his head. “No, thank you, Mrs. Greene.”
“Call me Camille,” my mother instructs.
She leads us into the formal dining room which is dripping with gardenias and roses and lit candles are everywhere. The long table easily seats twenty, although only two are currently at it now.
My father and my brother, Nate.
William is no where in sight, thank God.
My father barely spares us a glance, doesn’t even stop speaking to my brother. But Nate’s face lights up and he gets out of his chair, crossing the room to envelop me in a hug.
I introduce him to Brand, and they shake hands and everything seems fine.
But then my father intrudes.
“This was a family affair, Nora,” he chastises me. “I didn’t tell you to bring anyone.”
My mother breaks in, laying an elegant hand on his arm. “Maxwell, don’t be rude. After all that Brand did for us, you should be nice.”
Yes, Maxwell, be nice.