Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Honey, don’t be.” She grabbed both of my arms and gave me a friendly squeeze. “Every straight woman in the world thinks my son is handsome because he is. If anything, it’s a compliment.” She gave me an encouraging smile. “And I want you to know how happy I am about you and Derek. You’re such a kind and giving person, and I know you genuinely care about my son for who he is.”
And just like that, all my unease disappeared. “That makes me happy to hear.”
She pulled me into her arms and gave me an affectionate hug, embracing me like an aunt who adored her niece, a mother hugging her daughter. She was such a warm person. She could make you feel like a million bucks even on the worst day of your life. She patted my back gently before she pulled away. “You want some wine?”
“Please.”
She pulled away and smiled. “Good. Because I got a bottle for the table and four glasses.”
“Perfect.”
Deacon came next, handsome just like his son, but with weathered signs of aging. But he looked like someone on the most expensive skincare regimen in the world because he didn’t look like a man who could possibly be in his fifties. He was too youthful, his body too lean and toned. If this was what Derek was going to look like when he was that age, I definitely couldn’t let him go. “Nice to see you again, Emerson.” He extended his hand to shake mine.
“You too, Mr. Hamilton.”
He smiled. “Call me Deacon.” He gave my wrist a gentle squeeze before he dropped his hand. “Take a seat. I just ordered an appetizer.”
“I hope it’s not salmon burgers,” I teased.
His grin widened, like he appreciated the way I joked with him just like his son. “No. Cleo and I have a rule when we go out—no salmon and no salads. I subject her to that torture enough at home.”
I chuckled. “Good. Because I’m probably going to order a steak.”
“That makes two of us.” He winked and walked back to his seat.
Derek pulled out the chair for me. “Baby, sit down.”
I was surprised he called me that in front of his parents, but I did my best to hide my reaction. I took a seat and let him push me in to the table.
Derek sat beside me and poured the wine into our glasses.
Deacon smiled as his eyes glanced back and forth between us.
Cleo’s grin was even wider.
Derek gave a loud sigh. “Could you guys be normal, please?” His arm automatically moved over the back of my chair, even though he’d never done it before, never even had the opportunity because we’d only gone out to dinner once—and we didn’t get through the meal before we ran back to his penthouse to get our clothes off.
Cleo grabbed her menu and took a look. “I think I’m getting the chicken francese. I love their potatoes here. What about you?” She glanced at her husband.
“Emerson and I are both getting the steak.” Deacon picked up his menu with one hand to keep his other arm over the back of the chair. “But whether it’s the New York strip or the filet mignon is a mystery.”
I looked at the menu. “That’s easy. I’m getting the filet.”
Derek looked at his menu before he took a drink. “How’s work been?”
“Who are you asking?” Deacon raised his gaze from the menu and looked at his son.
“Both,” Derek said.
“Well, I’m doing my patient care right now,” Deacon said. “So, my hours are all over the place. Your mother has a new client in the building, a celebrity who draws the paparazzi every single day.”
“It’s a pain,” Cleo said. “Because the other clients are really annoyed with the photographers. They have a petition going around to eject this person from the building.”
“They can do that?” I asked in surprise.
“Not legally,” Cleo said. “But having a petition signed by every single client is a pretty powerful way to make someone feel unwanted. I treat this client like a regular person. I’m used to seeing famous people, but it really is an inconvenience to the other people living there, the men who come and go with their mistresses…that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, that is rough,” I said. “But I feel really bad for this person…since they have to live that way.”
“Yeah,” Cleo said with a nod. “It makes me grateful that I’m just a nobody.”
“You are not a nobody.” Deacon looked at his wife, his fingers resting against the back of her neck.
“You know what I mean.” She drank from her glass. “So, Emerson. Derek tells us you have a daughter.”
I was surprised they asked me about her. “Yes…her name is Lizzie.” Most parents would be really uncomfortable if their son were dating a woman who already had kids, but neither one of them seemed to care, probably because Deacon had Derek from a previous marriage. “She’s twelve.”