“I have a dress for tonight, but I will need more soon.”
“Okay,” I move to sit behind my desk. “If you look in the top drawer in my dresser, there’ll be a card.”
Celeste laughs. “No. I’ll wait until you get here. I’m not in the treasure hunting mood and a nap is calling my name.”
“Get some rest, love. Trust me, they’re not mean people.”
“I trust you,” she repeats before she hangs up.
Celeste
“I’m freaking out!”
“Why? Haven’t you been pinning away for Mr. Wonderful all this time? Isn’t meeting your child’s future grandparents a good thing?” Brett’s deep voice questions me through the speaker.
“Yes, but you met the parents from my last relationship. Color me biased.”
“Are your parents terrible people?” At Brett’s question, I frown between bites of my sandwich while side-eyeing the screen. Brett’s light eyes shine as he chuckles. “I’m just saying. You remember that entire theory about not judging a group of people by one bad example…” He switches his barbells for a lighter weight then continues his curls. “I’ll admit they’re a terrible example but not all parents are out to get their son’s woman.”
“True,” I grudgingly agree. “But he just sprung it on me. I need time to prepare.”
Brett grabs a towel to wipe some sweat from his brow before he gives me a total ‘Get your life’ frown.
“You need time to prepare to meet his parents? Twenty weeks wasn’t enough?”
I roll my eyes at his mention of how pregnant I am. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Only because I’m honest. Stop hiding from Mr. Wonderful’s makers, waddle your ass into your room, and get ready.”
“First, I don’t waddle. Second, it’s only four o’clock.”
“I know,” he tells me as he pulls off his muscle shirt to reveal his body and tats. “But pregnant people move slower, fall asleep unexpectedly, and are clumsy as hell.”
He winks at me when I lean closer to the phone so he can see my disapproval clearly. Brett just laughs and shoots me a wink.
“I wish two things right now. One, I hope you trip on the way out of the weight room. Two, I can’t wait to meet your future baby momma, so I can tell her everything you have to say about pregnant women.”
He pursues his lips as if my words carried more weight than they should’ve, then the light is back in his eyes.
“Sure about that? How am I supposed to protect you if I have a limp? I’m about to go shower, and there’s only one dick you should be seeing,” he tells me as he heads to the bathroom but moons me for good measure.
“Brett! You’re so wrong for that!”
“You should’ve hung up already, peeper.”
“Bye, crazy.” I think I hate him, but he did get my mind off dinner.
* * *
Mr. and Mrs. Scott—or Franklin and Caroline according to them—look like the usual rich people on the surface from what I can see. I’d have to come from behind Beau to get a better look. Despite the wonderful pep talk from Brett, and the assurance that the Scotts weren’t lunatics from Trudy and Ernest, I’m still on the fence. I’d built up the courage to make myself presentable but freaked when the doorbell rang.
“She’ll come around,” Beau tells his parents. “Her former in-laws didn’t instill much confidence in in-laws.”
“Former in-laws? Celeste, you were married before?” His mom wants to know.
“Yes,” my response is muffled because my face is one with Beau’s back.
“I wouldn’t call it marriage. It was more of legal imprisonment,” Beau corrects. I’m guessing from the silence they’re giving him confused looks. “The Chesterfields.”
