I knew that Beau had a house here because he and Gigi stayed there whenever it was his turn to take his twins.
The men made a whole lot more than the women. So, it made sense that some of them would either rent or buy a home here for any ‘off time’ they were allowed to be away from the apartments.
“I don’t care if it’s the size of a football field, she’s not moving in with him.”
Marcel interjected, “Uh, no, no, Lexi, and Trey will need to stay on base at the apartments. He will move in with her—or she will move in with him. Whatever they decide.”
Marianne’s eyes widened. “Those apartments are small, Marcel. These two,” she said pointing at us on the couch, “are ready to get a divorce. How can they be expected to share accommodations of that size? With one bed?”
More arguing ensued, and it was seriously making me dizzy. I didn’t know what to think.
I wasn’t sure when I’d ever been this confused.
Finally, Marianne rose to her feet, and shouted, “With all due respect, Marcel,” she took a deep breath, “you need to shut it!”
My dad said, “Marianne—”
She turned and pointed at him. “And you, need to double shut it!”
Holy cow.
Marianne Turner was ticked right off.
And then some.
Trey removed his arm from around me and moved like he was about to stand. “Mom, look I think you need—”
I swear to you Marianne stomped her feet. “And you need to triple shut it! Right about now I’d like to rip your head clear off, young man. And you know what the sad thing about that is? I don’t even think you’d notice. You clearly aren’t using it anyway.”
Whoa.
Marianne Turner was one tough cookie.
“You’re my son. My own flesh and blood. I will always love you. But this girl right here,” she said, nodding at me, “She doesn’t have a mother to guide her. And even though you’re my kid—there’s a secret women’s code. And whenever an older woman sees a younger one getting screwed over—a protective mechanism kicks in.”
She was breathing heavily and seemed to be getting angrier as she spoke.
“Mine just did that. Do you understand me? I will deal with you later. Right now, I need to help Lexi. Like her mother would want. Just like if something happened to me—and Hannah needed help or womanly advice. I’d hope another woman would stand in for me.”
She bent down and picked up her large purse that perfectly matched her boots. “So, Son? Sit down, and shut it.”
Marianne grabbeda hold of my hand and pulled me up. She insisted I follow her outside for a womanly chat.
I bent over and set the dog on the floor. She scurried away to Angelique.
No joke—I was a little scared of Marianne.
She seemed to show concern for me, but I was also the twenty-two year old who’d just married her son during a drunken night of shots, dancing, tattoos—and a whole lot of other things.
Her son, the hockey superstar.
Her son, the multimillionaire.
Most mothers would have an instant problem with a girl like me marrying a guy like Trey.
I was no gold digger.
There was no way Marianne Turner would know that, though.