“I hope you’re right.”
“Look, I get that you haven’t had the love and care that you deserved, but not everyone is like that. I promise, I isolated myself from assholes a long time ago. My mom is a total sweetheart and is already half in love with you and you two haven’t even met. Now let’s get this tree decorated.”
Four hours later and our home is completely decorated in silver and gold for the holiday. It looks like something out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, and I’ve won the heroine in the story. I stand back with a glass of brandy and picture what next Christmas will be like. Hopefully, we’ll be holding our little baby in our arms as we sit around the tree opening gifts that he or she won’t even care about. My thoughts are taken away from the image of us with my buzzer for the gate. It’s my mother. Showtime. I hope that everything goes as smoothly as I think it will, and that my mother doesn’t embarrass me with stories of me as a kid—or harasses Winter for grandbabies.
I let her in the gate, then slip on my coat and boots, and meet her at her car. She kisses me on the cheek, opens her trunk, then says, “Mason, sweetheart, take the travel container.” I lean in to get it, and she runs ahead of me and into the house. Damn sneaky woman.
When I step in the door with the large trunk container, she uses to bring me food in, I find her arms around Winter. “You are so beautiful,” she squeals.
“Thank you,” Winter responds, blushing so damn perfectly. How the hell am I supposed to keep my dick down when Winter looks so innocent?
“Yes, she is. Now that you’ve just barged in let me make the formal introductions.” I sit the bag container tote looking thingy on the table and say, “Mom, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Winter Snow.”
“Oh my God, even her name is adorable.”
This woman. I shake my head and continue, “Winter, this lady here is my beloved Mother, Marianne.”
“Well now that you’ve gotten that off your chest, Mason. You can leave us to finish dinner,” my mother says, shooing me away with her hand and picking up the container. I take it from her and carry it into the kitchen before she can argue with me. Setting it on the table, I pull Winter into my arms. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office, attempting to get some work done.” Then I take her mouth in a deep kiss, then pull back and leave the room.
“Woo, it’s hot in here, and I haven’t even started cooking,” my mom adds.
“Be nice,” I warn her.
Chapter 13
Winter
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian. I didn’t think to ask before I bought the dinner. I’m making steaks,” she questions, taking out the food from the travel carrier.
“Oh no, I love meat and I love this organizer.”
“Me too. Isn’t great? It’s perfect for bringing dishes with you or just plain going grocery shopping. I have so many options depending on what I’m storing in it. So tell me, when did you and Mason get engaged?”
That’s blunt. She doesn’t beat around the bush at all. “This morning.”
“Good boy. So, tell me about yourself. How did you and Mason meet?”
“Um. Well, I was working for the owners of a company Mason wanted to buy. We literally crashed into each other a couple of times. We’ve been together since the last run in.”
“Wow, Mason’s not usually the clumsy type.”
“Well the last time, he didn’t technically bump into me.” Not the second time either, but I have no intention of telling her I almost let him have his way with me in an elevator. “He saw me coming out of a store and helped me to the car,” I explain. She knits her brows, and I wonder if she thinks I purposely ran into him and made these incidents happen.
She smiles brightly at me before going to the fridge to put away a pie. “He must have made up his mind about you from the start. Bad boy didn’t tell me a thing about it.”
“We didn’t really get to have conversations until the other night. And well, he’s amazing.”
“Yes, he is. A really decent man. I’m so proud of him. I’m glad I had him at my side all these years. How about we get this started and you tell me something about you?” she says.
“I’m an only child, but I’ve had three step-siblings over the years.”
“Over the years?”
“Well, my mom has been remarried twice.” I feel like I should shut my mouth about her, but something about his mom makes me want to blurt out my feelings. Maybe it’s that she’s been so kind to me or I just want to ease her own sadness with a taste of my own bitter tale.