“Correct. Come to think of it, he’d give it to a stranger.”
“Next?”
“Who do you not sit near during dinner unless you want your clothes ruined?”
“Emily. If she spews, I’m in the potential splash zone.” I recall the stories I was told about how inevitably she laughs so hard her drink ends up on her older brother.
He praises me. “So smart.” Thinking, he tries a tougher one. “Which family member has twins?”
“You mean which three. Cassidy, Alison, and Corinna all have twins of differing sex and age.”
“Who will always have a camera in their hand?”
I scoff. “That’s easy. Holly. She’s a professional photographer.”
He places the truck in Park. “Final question.”
I brace.
“Who do we never let near electronics?”
A smile creases my face when I cup his cheek. “Phil because he’ll screw up whatever he touches.”
“You’ve got them all right, Rhoswen.” He leans down and presses his forehead against mine. “You’re ready to meet them.”
My shoulders relax a fraction but that’s before he adds, “I just don’t know if Mitch and Austyn made it back in town. If they are, well, then this becomes a whole different thing.”
My eyes dart across his face like a frightened racehorse in the starting gate. “What do you mean?” Ripping myself away, I flip through the cards at a manic speed. “I…I don’t have notecards for the Kensington branch of your family. I focused on the Freemans.You told me to focus on the Freemans!”
I’m someone who does well when I have a chance to prepare for the inevitable. I don’t know how the man next to me was a SEAL for as long as he was. Forget Hell Week; panic would have had me washing out when they asked me my name and rank. But then I realize I had a year to prepare for this. A year of quiet dinners, weekend trips. Early mornings where I woke up and found his beloved face on the pillow next to mine.
A year of him choosing me over and over in small ways that now culminate in me accepting him in a huge one.
Brushing a piece of hair off my brow, he reassures me, “Rhoswen? I haven’t been a monk since my last marriage ended.”
My lips press together. Even though I haven’t lived the colorful life my man has, something painful needles me just below the sternum when this topic arises. “I know.”
“I’ve never brought anyone home to meet the family.”
My jaw falls open. “You haven’t?”
He shakes his head decisively. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the only person who should meet my family is family.”
I absorb the gorgeous feelings his words flood me with before I blurt out, “No one’s ever mattered enough that I made flash cards so I didn’t humiliate myself.”
He brushes his lips over mine. “Years from now, I’ll be reminding you of this very moment.”
I hope so, I think as he leans back into the seat. As he eases the truck back out onto the road, I reach for his hand. He squeezes it before resting it on his muscular thigh where a recent tattoo of a highland cow now rests.
A secret that’s just ours.
Knowing that, my pulse returns to its regular rhythm until he turns into the drive and I spy the cropping of buildings over the vast property—the Freeman farm.
The trees act as sentinels as we pull up to a lot already filled to the brim with luxury vehicles. After the truck is parked and the engine is cut, I breathe in deep and exhale slowly like they taught me at yoga. “Okay. I’ve got this.”
