A shrug and a wink later, he’s back to his optimistic self, clueless to the impending trainwreck. “Well, luv, after your intriguing account, I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Your funeral.” On the way, I direct him to the local market where we pick up crackers, and a cheese-meat combo tray. On second thought, I add some veggies, dip, and several bottles of wine.
“Can I? Do you mind?” Dash holds a gold plastic card to my face.
“Go ahead and thank you.” When I stretch up to kiss his cheek, his eyes brighten, and his mouth turns up in a broad grin.
“Happy to do my part.” In the car, he squeezes my thigh.
Not wanting him to move, my hand covers his. “So, I’ve been thinking about my money hang-ups. My pig-headedness has gotten in the way of our relationship, and I apologize. I was wrong to keep everything fifty-fifty, especially now we’re getting married.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Well, as long as we’re apologizing, I’m truly sorry I chained you to a toilet. Scouts honor, I’ll never do it again if you promise not to ride smack dab in the middle of a gunfight wearing no body armor.”
I smirk. “I will obey your silly rules, bounty man, unless I don’t feel like it. How’s that?” Unable to hold back, I bust out laughing.
Dash chuckles at my wise-assery, and we talk for a while about our giant fight. By the time the Google lady announces, ‘You have arrived’, many of our obstacles have been sorted out, leaving two hurdles to overcome. Dash is overprotective and thinks I’m too careless. He might be correct on the second point, but the jury is still deliberating on the first.
Too soon, we exit his car, and I point to the duplex doors. “My mom lives on the right and my sister’s family lives on the left. Amy’s husband is running for Attorney General and won’t be joining us.”
Before I ring the bell, I stop and grab his hand. “Please don’t take anything they say to heart. They’re a tad…”
“Difficult?”
“Good. You’re catchin’ on, mate.” Imitating his accent, I plaster a smile on my face, and think to myself, ‘May the odds ever be in your favor.’
Right on cue, Mom opens the door and frowns at my platter. “What’s that?”
“Good day to you mum. Dashiell Montclair here. So sorry to crash your dinner party. May I set these down somewhere?” He holds up the wine bottles.
Unable to say no without being rude, she climbs the stairs and takes his paper bag. “Sit in the living room. We’ll be out shortly.”
Alone in the kitchen she hisses at me. “Your noshing will ruin my dinner.”
“Mom, you said you didn’t have enough, I was just trying to help, jeeez.” Tearing open cardboard boxes, I dump crackers in a yellow bowl, remove the tray’s plastic film, and put the corkscrew in my back pocket.
Balancing the stemware and appetizers, bottle under my arm, I retreat to the couch where my brave knight sits. “Nine-one-one. Wine.”
More skilled than a sommelier, he pops the cork, pours, and before my mother can enter, I gulp down eight ounces. While sipping my second glass, she slithers in and perches on the edge of an antique, spindle-back chair.
“So, Lanita tells me you’re a bounty hunter.” From the dragon’s grim face and tone, one would think he’s a drug dealer.
“Yes indeed, mum.” Dashiell swirls the red liquid, ignoring her raised imperial brows.
“Did Lanita ever tell you I’m former British intelligence?”
Crap, I swallow down the wrong hole, and nearly hack up a lung. Wow. I did not foresee this strategy. As I try to digest her rare admission, the front door slams.
“Hello?” My sister’s voice sounds from the street level and two sets of sneakers race up the stairs.
“Auntie Laney.” The nine-year-old twins, Josh and Jen, shriek and jump in my arms.
“Oh my goodness, look how tall you’ve grown.” Hugging them tight, I take their hands and walk them into the living room where their exuberant chatter allows me to take a respite. Beside me, Dash quizzes the kids about school and sports, while they question him relentlessly about England and the queen.
The stove buzzer rings and my tight-lipped matriarch stands. “Dinner’s ready. Shall we, everyone?”
Walking to the dining room, my mom turns to my sister. “The children can eat pizza in the basement.”
“Alright.” The two kids fist bump and race down the stairs, leaving Dash and I without cover in the dragon’s lair.
