“Of course they are. Can you give me a moment?”
“Yes, sir.”
He set the phone down on the counter. Mara watched him warily from the other side of the island.
“Who is it?”
“Apparently my staff isn’t as loyal as I’d hoped. It’s my parents. I’d hoped we had a little more privacy before we had to deal with them.”
She didn’t say anything but he could tell the thought of meeting his family held as little appeal for her as it did for him right then. Especially when she glanced down at her outfit. That was his girl.
“I can tell them to leave. They’ll have to understand that we just got in and we’re exhausted.”
“But they already came out here. I’m sure they’ve missed you.” Mara’s fingers clenched around the fabric of her top. Then she smoothed it out as if just conscious of the nervous habit. “Besides, that’s why we’re here, right? So that I can become a part of your life. It’s time to stop hiding.”
There was wisdom in those words, he knew, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t also feel the disaster that was about to happen, the chaos and discord that his family seemed to generate as a matter of course. He was related to them and as such had to deal with their drama but she wasn’t used to it. He’d hoped to shield her for as long as he could. However, it was only a matter of time so perhaps it was better to get it over with. He only hoped she wouldn’t turn around and leave as soon as she met them.
“All right. I just want you to remember, that all this stuff," he gestured around them, "is just that. Stuff. It's not who I am. I'm still the same guy who has loved you for years."
Mara hugged him tightly and then released him. "I know. Now let them in. It's about time I met my future in-laws."
He knew Mara thought he’d been hiding her. It had hurt her, the thought that he’d been keeping her a secret. It killed him that this beautiful, vibrant woman could have ever thought that he was hiding her, although he knew his own actions had led her to that conclusion.
Because despite what Mara thought, she wasn’t the one he was ashamed of.
II.
“And, after all, what is a lie?
'Tis but the truth in masquerade;”
- - Don Juan, Lord Byron
Chapter Eight
MARA’S FIRST THOUGHT when the elevator doors opened was that Trent’s parents looked like mannequins. His father was tall, with light brown hair streaked through with silver. He wore a crisp black suit and a red tie, the quintessential image of a CEO. He was a handsome man despite his stiff demeanor. She could easily see Trent’s features in his face.
His mother’s blonde hair was even lighter than her son’s and every single strand was perfectly in place. Like her husband, she was formally dressed, in a slim black sheath that showed off her trim figure, and a single strand of pearls around her neck. With envy, Mara glanced at her shoes. The distinctive red sole told her they were by one of her favorite designers. One of the designers that she knew she’d never be able to afford but drooled over in every fashion magazine.
“Darling! You’re finally back.” His mother came forward, sweeping past Mara with her arms outspread to pull Trent down into a hug.
Trent hugged her back stiffly before exchanging a terse nod with his father.
When his mother noticed Mara standing there, she beamed a bright smile. Then she handed over her handbag and the shopping bag she carried.
“Please put these away somewhere. And I’ll have a glass of tea, por favor.” She emphasized the Spanish words, saying them slowly but still managing to mangle the pronunciation.
For a moment, Mara just stood there, her arms filled with packages. Trent turned to her with a carefully blank look. His eyes closed briefly before he took the stuff out of her arms and set it off to the side next to the sofa.
His mother watched the interaction between them with confusion. She was probably wondering why Mara wasn't hopping to and fixing her drink.
She felt like being wicked and speaking back in Spanish but the ironic thing was, despite his mother’s assumption, her Spanish wasn’t very good. Her mother was Columbian but they’d always spoken English at home.
Note to self, learn more Spanish to use when making pretentious people uncomfortable.
When Trent put his arm around her waist, a single frown line appeared on his mother's forehead, marring the otherwise perfectly smooth skin of her face. Clearly this wasn't going to be the family bonding session Mara had hoped for. She was starting to understand why Trent hadn't brought her home sooner.
“Mom, Dad this is my fiancée Mara Simmons. Mara, these are my parents, James and Antonia Townsend.”