“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about them,” I sigh, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her close to me.
I don’t care who knows it anymore. I am not going to let her pull away again.
“No, really,” she murmurs against my chest, pouting.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Sunny practically ordered me to do it,” I admit.
She thinks about it for a few moments, then nods.
“Actually, that really does make me feel better.”
Chapter 20
Clarissa
With my hand in my pocket, I stand nervously in front of the door, waiting for Maxwell’s parents to answer. He pulls me closer and brushes his lips against my hairline, murmuring something sweet against my ear.
“It’s going to be fine,” he tells me for the thousandth time. “Take your hand out of your pocket.”
“Then they will see the ring,” I mutter through clenched teeth as quietly as I can.
“That’s kind of the point.”
“Can’t I just take it off?” I ask. “I’ll put it right back on again later. I promise. It’s not like I’m going to lose it or anything.”
“It’s against the law for you to take it off,” he sniffs. “As your future husband, I command it.”
He has said that sort of thing several times—trying to tell me that “future husband” is some kind of lawmaking entity. He thinks he is being very funny.
“Maxwell!” Sherry Kent calls as she flings open the door. “And Clarissa! You don’t have to wait out there! Please come in!”
Nervously I allow Maxwell to guide me into the entryway, a smile frozen on my mouth. His mother leans forward and kisses me on both cheeks, but she is definitely warmer than before, I think.
“Oh, hello again!” Marshall Kent bellows in his extremely loud voice as he enters the room. “Clarissa! Thank you so much for coming!”
This time, I insisted that we not have dinner. Drinks would be fine, I said. Secretly, I just wanted to make sure that if everything went as terribly as last time, I could get the hell out of here a whole lot faster. Waiting for dessert to end was practically torture last time.
“Gimlet, am I right?” Marshall asks with a wink.
“Oh, yes!” I nod. “You remembered what I like to drink?”
“I could never forget a gimlet girl,” he smiles, obviously trying to be charming.
Sherry does her best too, speaking warmly to me, asking me questions about where I’m from and things like that. Things she didn’t ask before. Of course, I try to answer right away. I don’t want them to think I’m holding a grudge, after all. It’s important that they like me.
Still, I keep waiting for the ghost of Zella to pop in for a visit. I expect her to arrive at any time, and I keep an ear out for the chime of the doorbell. But she doesn’t. No one even mentions the Hews. Eventually I begin to relax.
When I let my guard down, I feel Maxwell’s hand sliding against mine. I smile at the electricity of his touch, even in front of his parents. Though we are in our early thirties, I still feel like it’s disrespectful to canoodle too emphatically in front of them. Then he tugs on my wrist, and before I can stop him he pulls my hand from my pocket where I have been stubbornly keeping it all this time.
Sherry gasps aloud, clapping her hands over her mouth.
“Maxwell! Clarissa!”
“Congratulations, my boy!” Marshall bellows, practically shaking the crystal chandelier.
I stand just in time to catch Sherry as she rushes to hug me, almost losing my balance. She squeezes me tight in a motherly embrace, then pulls back, her eyes gleaming with the emotion.
“Oh, Clarissa! This is so wonderful!” she breathes. “I just couldn’t be happier for you!”