“Fine,” Nina said through tight teeth. “Look, let’s just get this out of the way now. I know how you feel about me. You’ve made that crystal clear. But I’m asking you to please keep it away from Mom. As far as she knows, we’ve mended fences. Don’t let her think otherwise. She doesn’t need any drama.”
Elle’s jaw flexed and her hand gripped Lane’s painfully tight. “The only reason I’m here is for Mom. I can pretend as well as the rest of you. That’s what we do, right? It’s the McCray way.”
Nina glanced at Lane, her gaze wary.
“He already knows what the situation is,” Elle said, following Nina’s look. “Neither of us are here to cause drama.”
Lane nodded. “Elle’s here for your mom. I’m here for Elle.”
Nina’s shoulders lowered and she returned the nod. “All right, come on in.”
They stepped inside the foyer, the narrow entrance typical of a historic home, but all the finishes fine. Medium-tone, polished wood floors, pale cream walls, a beautiful oak staircase, and expensive artwork. A show home.
“Honey, was that the door?” The male voice echoed down the hallway as Lane shut the door behind him. Elle’s breath hitched.
A dark-haired man in khakis and a forest-green button down stepped into the hallway. The self-satisfied look on his face told Lane exactly who he was. Henry. The cheater. The asshole. Lane had to bite back his frown.
Nina cleared her throat. “Yep, it’s Elle and her…guest.”
“Elle.” Henry smiled and headed their way. Like he was happy to see her. Like they were old friends. Like this wasn’t ten kinds of fucked up.
“Henry.” Elle shifted closer to Lane and he released her hand so he could place his palm on her back instead. Her muscles rippled beneath his fingertips, but he had a feeling that was more anger than nerves.
Henry reached them and immediately leaned in to kiss Elle on the cheek. “So glad you could make it. I knew Nina would be able to smooth things over between you. It’s no good for sisters to fight.”
Lane was surprised Elle didn’t knee the guy right in the balls for daring to touch her. He had to stop himself from taking the dude by the collar and teaching him manners. But Elle smiled a smile dripping with acid. “Yes, sisters should be there for each other.”
Henry kept his smile as if Elle’s words hadn’t been laced with arsenic. He looked to Lane. “And who’s your friend? One of your interns?”
Lane’s teeth ground together. Yes, he was younger than Elle but not by that much. Henry was taking a dig at Elle’s age.
Elle leaned into Lane. “No. This is Lane, my fiancé.”
Henry’s eyes flashed at that, a brief break in the genial facade, but then his eyebrows went up with exaggerated surprise. “Your fiancé? Well, I guess it is possible to meet people when you live at a mental hospital.” He reached out to shake Lane’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Henry Blanchard. Hope you weren’t one of the patients.”
Henry gave a hearty chuckle, like that was a funny joke, and Lane gripped his hand firmly, barely resisting the urge to squeeze until the guy cried uncle. He didn’t want to give the dude the satisfaction of thinking he’d gotten to him on any level. “Lane Cannon. And no, I’m one of the therapists.”
“That’s convenient,” he said. “Free therapy. Good thinking, Elle.”
Henry moved to release the handshake, but Lane held on, making Henry’s gaze jerk back his way. Lane smiled with pointed pleasantness. “Henry, I know we don’t know each other, but I know enough. And I would recommend that while Elle and I are here this weekend that you speak to her respectfully, or you and I will have a problem. She is here for her mother because she is the bigger person. She is not here for whatever show you’re trying to put on right now. Worry about your wedding and your woman. Leave mine out of it.”
Lane released Henry’s hand.
Red splotches appeared on Henry’s cheeks and his attention flicked to Elle. “You’re going to let your meathead boyfriend threaten me in your family’s home? I didn’t say anything insulting to you.”
“Hmm,” Elle said, as if she were utterly bored and unimpressed with Henry’s tantrum. “You should probably go take a walk, Henry. It’s no good to get your blood pressure so high—you know, with your age and all.”
Henry’s face went redder.
She linked her fingers with Lane’s. “Sweetheart, why don’t I show you the back garden? It’s really lovely and peaceful, and I bet we’ll find my mom out there.”
“Sounds fantastic,” Lane said, sending her a warm smile as a bloom of pride went through him. Elle’s hard shell could be frustrating sometimes. But right now, seeing her so calm and collected in the face of this disgusting human being, he just wanted to forget that they were playing pretend and kiss her. The woman was tough as hell and elegant as fuck. He brought their linked hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles before they stepped around Henry and Nina and headed toward the back of the house.
Elle’s heart pounded a little faster than she would’ve liked, but she felt triumphant as she walked away from her sister and Henry. Henry had tried to play his normal games, the sugar-coated jabs, the said-with-a-laugh insults. It was the same stuff he’d done toward the end of their marriage. Back then, those kinds of jokes had cut her, made her bleed, made her insecurities rush to the surface. She’d since learned to be a pro in letting that kind of thing ping off of her, but she hadn’t realized how satisfying it would be to have someone else on her side. Just when she’d been ready to tell Henry off, Lane had stepped in with a brutally calm, don’t-fuck-with-her tone that had set Henry back on his well-heeled shoes.
And Lane had called her his woman. Not in so many words but the sentiment was there. Leave mine out of it. His.
This was a farce, but those few words had sent a ripple through her. In that moment, she’d wished them to be true. She didn’t need a man to take care of her. Or a family. She’d proven that. She could do whatever she needed to do on her own. But feeling that layer of protectiveness, that glimmer of belonging to a couple instead of fighting the battle on her own had felt good, like a relief.