“What if I trip on something?”
“There’s nothing but grass in front of you, and I’ll turn you when you need to turn.”
“I’m walking blind, in heels, on grass. This may end in catastrophe.”
He sighs. “So dramatic. Keep your eyes closed,” he orders, then I feel his hand on my ankle. “Lift your foot.” He takes both of my heels off and then a moment later, one hand comes back up to cover my eyes. “I promise, I’ve got you. Now walk, and I’ll tell you when to stop. Just trust me.”
I finally relent and do what he says. He promised I’d love the surprise, so I can only hope and take his word for it. As we make our way along the ridiculous expanse that is the back lawn, butterflies leap in my stomach. The suspense of whatever this surprise is has been gnawing at me for the last hour.
“Aaaand . . . stop,” Asher says after what feels like a couple of minutes. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
“Surprise!” he says, but the word is also shouted by two female voices.
My eyes adjust to the warm morning sunlight, and I gasp as I see my mother and Maya in front of me, standing next to a gorgeous table in a garden.
I squeal something that is an incoherent string of words and run to them. My mother wraps me in a hug first. Tears immediately spring to my eyes. I haven’t seen her in six months, and god, I’ve missed her so much. I didn’t realize how much until now. The feeling is compounded by the fact that I’ve wanted nothing more than to talk to her about everything that’s happened since I met Asher, but I haven’t been able to. It was too risky to call or text her with details, because even with a very private phone line, I’m paranoid that those calls or textscould be accessed for the right price. And since Asher informed me that paparazzi photos of me are going for near a hundred grand a pop, I can’t even begin to think what someone might do or what they might pay to access my calls and texts. If I’d said anything about Asher and my relationship being a fake arrangement, it could have potentially been leaked. So, my mother and Maya still have no idea how Asher and my relationship started. I’ve hated lying to them, but maybe I can come clean now that they’re here in person.
“I’ve missed you so much!” I say, wiping at my tears.
My mom leans back and takes me in. “I’ve missed you too, sweetie. You look stunning. It seems dating Asher suits you.”
Now Maya barrels into me for a hug, and even though we just parted ways a short time ago in London, I’m in tears all over again. I haven’t seen enough of her for the past three years, so this feels like a gift. When Maya finally releases me, I turn and give Asher a hug.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “This is the best surprise in the whole world.”
“You’re very welcome . . . but I hope you still think that in a minute. This is a family brunch, so my whole family will be out here soon.”
“A family brunch?”
“It’s tradition for the entire family to have brunch the morning of the Langford’s annual Memorial Day party. Our family has been doing this for a century.”
Good god. Just a casual century of the tradition of eating brunch in the garden of the summer mansion. Just like all the other families.
He drops down and helps me back into my heels, then leads me around a large hedge bush, and I see that what looked like a normal sized table from my previous vantage point is actually a mammoth table set with at least three dozen place settings offancy plates and goblets and is decorated with stunning floral arrangements.
My mother and Maya follow us to the table, and they both gasp.
“This is gorgeous,” my mother says.
“Wow,” Maya rasps.
“Welcome to our home,” Catherine says, from behind us. “I’m so glad you could both join us. I know you both traveled quite far to be here.”
“Thank you for having us,” my mother says, gushing. “Your home is incredible.”
“It’s our pleasure.”
A photographer snaps a candid photo of our group and then calls for everyone to stand in for a group photo. Soon, all of Asher’s extended family gathers, and they are exactly what I expected based on Asher’s descriptions. There are about thirty men and women of different ages, all dressed in their couture summer linens and hats, and there’s also a handful of children whose parents are trying desperately to keep them grass stain and dirt free while the photographer orders them into a formation.
Many of them glance my way with looks that follow a similar pattern to what I’ve already received at the other engagements this weekend: curiosity that morphs to distaste, and finally, dismissal.
I sigh and move aside with my mother and Maya as the family prepares to take the picture, but Asher grabs me by the elbow and pulls me back.
“I’m not family,” I mutter noting the many eyes watching him while not even attempting to hide their disapproving sneers.
“Nice try. Now smile your pretty smile, this is for posterity.”
