“Horrible is my favourite.”
She elbows me out of the way to fetch meat from the refrigerator that she dices with quick movements before throwing into the pan, stirring until it’s seared on all sides.
I move to the middle island, eyeing a bowl filled with what look like fresh doughnuts. When I move to take one, Agnes hits the back of my hand with a spoon. “They’re not for you. I made those special for Crimson.”
Ignoring her, I take a bite, my tastebuds dancing at the taste of the potato dumpling, encasing a whole plum. “These are fantastic. Why haven’t you ever made them for me?”
“Because your three taste buds are satisfied with anything I serve.” She wipes her hands on her apron before picking up the wooden spoon again. “When she first came in, I thought she was another one of your contracts, so I didn’t make the best impression. She barely ate a thing all day, so I thought I’d try something traditional.”
“She was sick last night so her stomach still might be tender.”
Agnes pointedly stares at my dark suit with the bowtie that I only wear when going out in the evening. “But you’re taking her out to eat?”
“I have people to introduce her to.”
“People.” She rolls her eyes with such enthusiasm I half expect them to pop right out of her head. “But not the people she’ll be living with. Thank you for that reminder. Wouldn’t want to go a day without you putting us in our place.”
She turns back to the pot, and the pokes of guilt rise to the level of stabby. Probably what she was aiming for but I’m too tired to deal with such awful emotions.
“She needs to meet my mother. Do you think that would go better here or should I take her out?”
Agnes’s shoulders soften as she gets to do her favourite thing, opine on my life. “I’ll make a pleasant lunch. Three courses, and two different wines, so I’ll be interrupting you all the time, just in case you get into sticky subjects.”
My mother does love a sticky subject.
“But you better be nicer to her than you were today. It’s no way to treat someone you intend to spend your life with.”
“I will. I promise.”
She shakes her head and levels the spoon at me. “Don’t tell me. Go tell that to your intended.”
Instead, my fingers reach for another dumpling, an impulse that doesn’t come to fruition before the wooden spoon smacks against the back of my hand.
“Go. Otherwise, the next time she comes in here wanting help to escape this prison, I’ll give her my lift code and that’s the last you’ll ever see of her.”
“Okay, okay.” I leave the room before she can help me on my way with another smack from the spoon. It doesn’t seem hygienic to use an implement as a weapon and a cooking aid, but I’m sure Agnes wouldn’t appreciate the input. Not now.
I tap on Crimson’s door and she opens it, already wearing the dress I selected. The tiny images of it on my laptop didn’t do justice to the vision now before me. Although, that has a lot less to do with the dress and a lot more to do with the woman inside it.
Her dark hair is pulled back and I can’t resist resting my hand on the curve of her neck, feeling the softness of her pale skin as I draw her a step closer to me. The sadness is gone from her eyes as they range across my suit, lingering on my tie, the buttons of my shirt, the buckle of my belt. As they return to meet my gaze, they sparkle.
I tip her head back, running my thumb along her windpipe and up to stroke along her chin. The dress is in the darkest possible version of her namesake colour and patterned with sequins that shimmer and shine. It adds depth to her skin, contrast to her eyes.
It also fits so tightly to her curves that I have a moment of misgiving. Until the marriage licence is signed, there’s still a possibility this could unravel. “Would you prefer to spend tonight here?”
Relief shows in the softening of her spine, the shaky laugh as she nods.
“Have a favourite movie?”
“Not really but I like comedies. Do you have one of those that you enjoy?”
Oh, I see what you did there. Turning my question back on me so only one of us learns anything about the other.
But that’s fair enough. Judging from Agnes’s thin-lipped summary, I should have spent more time today with my new family and less with my old one.
The people I was going to introduce her to tonight can wait. Tomorrow, she’ll meet my mother and later my most important friends if they’re amenable. Considering my recent statements comparing marriage to a prison sentence, they’ll have a good laugh.
Perhaps by then, Crimson will feel like laughing, too. All I have to do is show how much better a match I am than Gabriel—a comparison that doesn’t feel like it’ll be a stretch.
