It wasn’t just that I’d married her. It was that I was legally, emotionally, cosmicallytiedto everything she came from. Which was the complete opposite of my upbringing.
And would they even want me? Would I beworthyof their daughter?
Would they see me as part of the family, or just a man with too much money and too many headlines?
Would there ever be a time when her father sat across from me, shop-talking over a whiskey, asking about lap times or tire pressure or anything other than the status I brought to their name? Or would it always feel like some performance—like I was putting on a suit and praying they didn’t see the cracks underneath that showed where I came from?
Because her family came from old, generational wealth. They carried prestige and placed value in class-status.
Would there ever be a Sunday where I was justCallum, notFraser?
Or would I walk into that house and feel like I didn’t belong… forever?
I glanced at her again, chewing the inside of my cheek. “What if I say the wrong thing?”
She looked up from her phone, brows lifting. “Are you asking for a cheat sheet?”
“Maybe.”
“If I tell you,” she said slowly, “will that make you feel better or worse right now?”
I paused, then groaned. “I don’t know. But it might stop me from throwing up on your father.”
Auri smiled, all gleaming teeth and mischief. “You’re fine, mon amour.”
“You’re evil.”
“And you’re in love with me.”
“Hopelessly.”
She glanced over, sunlight catching in her lashes. “They’ll like you. I promise. It just may not seem like it at first.”
“Did they like me before?”
“They didn’t know you. They did think you were a distraction to me, though.”
“You should consider giving TED Talks. Very encouraging, mo chridhe.”
She laughed again, and that sound—God, that sound could anchor me through a fucking storm. “I mean, they weren’t wrong.”
Her teasing did nothing to ease the anxiety that simmered in my bloodstream. Just kept it at bay enough to stay in control. I pressed my lips together and squeezed the wheel tighter. Tried to focus on anything but the internal spiral.
"Alright," I said after a few miles of silence. "I have questions."
"About?"
I flicked my eyes over the dash. "This thing."
She tapped her fingers against the window. "Thisthingis a piece of history."
I raised a brow. "This thing has no traction control."
"Nope."
"No anti-lock brakes."
"Nope."
