Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Not as beautiful as you,” I tell her, almost automatically, because it’s the absolute truth.
She turns to me with a watery smile, then rises to kiss me sweetly on her tiptoes.
“Thank you,” she says again. “I’ll try it on now.”
I nod, turning back to the wardrobe myself to grab a nice suit that will make me look like the businessman I am. I need the visual power – something to show Alana’s parents that I’m capable of looking after her. Both in terms of money and in terms of responsibility.
I leave off the tie, deciding it will look too formal.
My plan is not to intimidate them, after all. Instead, I want to charm them.
I need to.
Even if I’m not too worried about Alana potentially going home, I’m anxious for her to be happy here.
Thirty minutes later, we are sitting on the sofa, looking camera ready.
Alana looks gorgeous in her dress – glamorous, even.
We look at the preview on the cell phone screen. I rigged it up on a stand in front of us, so neither of us has to hold it.
I also feel like I look the part. Strong, respectable, mature – but, I hope, not too old.
Because that’s going to be one of the first objections they will bring up.
I look to Alana at my side.
“Ready?” I ask her.
There is a pause.
For a moment, I think she is going to shake her head – or worse, cry. But then the tense moment passes, and she nods bravely, lifting her chin.
She reaches out and presses the call button on her screen, waiting for the call to connect. I reach down and hold her hand, just slightly out of the view of the camera.
“Here we go,” Alana whispers.
I take a brief nervous breath.
And then the call connects.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Alana
The sight of my dad’s face after a week away from home would normally be the kind of thing that would bring a smile to my face. But this time, I only manage the smallest, tensest little movement of the muscles around my mouth, none of which reaches my eyes.
“Hi, Dad,” I say.
My dad holds his cell phone as he walks around – from the background, I can tell he’s in the kitchen. A rustling makes me think of the packaging of his favorite coffee pods, and figure he is fixing himself a cup.
“Alana?” he says, frowning. “Who’s that with you?”
“Um, Dad, is Mom there?” I ask. My voice wavers a little, but I try to keep it strong. I need to come off as confident here. I don’t want him to think that I’m uncertain or doing this under some kind of duress.
“Yeah, she’s watching her shows,” my dad says, frowning even more. “What’s up, honey?”
“Could you go sit with Mom?” I ask. “I wanted to talk to both of you at once.”
Dad makes a kind of grunt in agreement, which is as close as I know I’m going to get a verbal response. The camera shakes, and the connection struggles to keep up with the view as he moves from the kitchen to our lounge.
The connection stabilizes as my dad flops down on the couch beside my mom. I hear them briefly talk, and the sound of the television disappears.
Both of my parents are frowning at me and the stranger beside me on the screen.
“Ally?” My mom asks, her voice rising high in question. “What’s going on, darling? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No,” I say, and then gave a nervous laugh because it couldn’t be further from the truth. “No, nothing like that. I have good news, actually.”
“What is it?” Mom asks, then looks between me and Finlay with obvious confusion. “You look very formal. Like you’re going for a job interview.”
Finlay chuckles at that, and I almost want to hit him and tell him to keep quiet, which is unrealistic. That wouldn’t be helpful if I’m trying to introduce him to my parents.
He was going to attract their attention at some point.
In fact, simply by sitting beside me, he’s already attracting a great deal of it.
“No, it’s not a job interview,” I say, glancing at Finlay to let him know that it’s alright for him to chip in.
“Although it sort of feels like it on my end,” Finlay says. His voice is cool and even though I can feel his grip on my hand tighten. “Allow me to introduce myself, as I know you must be wondering who I am. My name is Finlay Barnbraw. I’m the Laird of the estate next to where your daughter has been staying this week.”
“I see,” my mother says, though it’s fairly clear from her tone that she doesn’t see at all – even if she’s trying very hard to. “You’re a Scottish gentleman, by your accent.”
“That’s what he said, Sandra,” my dad says impatiently. “He’s a Laird. That’s like some kind of Scottish – well, Lord, I guess, isn’t it?”