“Sweet Jesus, I think I just came,” she mutters.
“Don’t tell me you and PJ are already past the honeymoon phase. You guys just started living together,” I remind her, tossing the phone onto the bed and grabbing a pair of cotton shorts from the bottom drawer. I pull them on, as well as the sample of a brand-new tank top for the Naughty Princess Club, which I designed and was delivered yesterday.
“Oh hell no. It’s amazing. It feels like we’ve been living together forever. But you know, I have a teenager. We can’t exactly break furniture when she’s home,” Cindy explains as I pick up my phone and head to the kitchen to make some coffee.
“Eric’s mom wants to meet me tomorrow. He asked me if I’d go to brunch with him,” I suddenly blurt out as I flip the switch on the coffeepot, which Eric had prepared for me before he left.
“Holy shit, and you’re just now telling me this?!” she screeches through the phone.
“We’ve been on the phone for ten seconds, asshole, not two hours. And chill out with the screaming. I’m not awake yet,” I complain, tapping my fingers against the counter while I wait for the coffee to brew.
“Next time, lead with that. I mean, the sex recap was nice, but holy hell this is huge. HUGE!” she shouts.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I mutter, knowing it is a big deal and trying not to freak out about it.
I mean, he already met my dad and neither one of us died. And the two of them talk on the phone now more than teenage girls use Snapchat. I know he said his mom was kind of distant and all about business, but he also said I would love her. I’m trying to reserve judgment about her always leaving him with nannies and not celebrating his birthdays with him because I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose your husband. And since he told me everything she did was out of love for him and securing his future, that means she can’t be all bad, right?
* * *
“Tell me exactly what she said to him and don’t leave anything out,” Cindy orders when I give up waiting for the coffee and quickly swap the carafe for a coffee mug until it’s full.
Putting the carafe back, I suck down as much coffee as I can without scalding my mouth, not even bothering to add cream and sugar because fuck that.
“I didn’t hear her end of the conversation, just Eric’s,” I tell her, thinking back to the two of us curled up in bed together earlier and how I groaned in protest when his phone rang and he rolled away from me.
“I’m sure she would love to join me for brunch, Mother, but I’ll ask,” Eric said as I jerked up in bed, yanking the sheet over my naked chest as if the woman on the other end of the line could see me.
“Yes, I’ll make sure she knows you’re excited I’m finally bringing a woman home to meet you instead of keeping them chained in my basement,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes at me before he continued. “No, Mother, that was a joke. I know you didn’t say anything about chaining women, and I’ll make sure to leave that out when I ask her. And besides, I don’t keep women chained in my basement. I live on a boat. I don’t have a basement. I keep them chained in my closet.”
“Yes, I do think I’m hilarious, thank you for noticing,” Eric sighed. “And yes, I will tell her to dress accordingly, even though that sounds rude and pretentious. Right, tomorrow at eleven. I’m so excited I can barely contain myself. I think I just peed a little. Yes, that was another joke. No, I did not soil myself, as you so nicely put it. I’m still housetrained. Yes, I will try and be on my best behavior and not embarrass you in front of Ariel. Okay then, good talk.”
Cindy sighs through the line when I finish telling her about the phone call.
“Well, she sounds like a peach. At least she told him she was excited to meet you and that she didn’t want him to embarrass her in front of you. That gives her a few bonus points,” she says. “What are you going to wear?”
“I was thinking pasties and a G-string, since I didn’t get to bust those out at Charming’s last night. You know, warm up the rude, pretentious woman up right off the bat,” I tell Cindy.
“Jesus God, I have never seen a couple more perfect for each other than you and Eric,” she says as I walk around the island, set my coffee cup down, and run my hand over the ceramic bust Eric got me at the flea market.
Every time I look at this thing it makes me smile and reminds me of the day I’m pretty sure was the first moment I knew I was falling in love with him. He gave me back a piece of myself by starting my new collection of antiques. And even though this thing is ridiculous, it means more to me than he’ll ever know that he realized how important it was that I have something like it where I live.
“Ariel Waters? Are you down here?”
Turning away from the island when I hear someone shouting from up on the deck, I look over at the stairs in confusion as a shadow passes over them from above.
“I gotta go. Someone just showed up on my boat,” I tell Cindy, promising her I’ll call her back later so she can help me pick out an outfit for brunch tomorrow.
Rushing across the living room, I stop at the base of the stairs and look up, shocked as hell at who I see looking down at me.
“Ursula? Ursula from the courthouse?” I ask as she makes her way down the stairs when she sees me.
Sure, come right on down, don’t wait for me to invite you or anything.
She’s wearing another fancy, tailored business suit similar to the one I saw her in that day I turned in the paperwork, and is smoothing back her perfectly styled short grey hair as she gingerly walks down the last few steps and meets me at the bottom. Dread starts pooling in my stomach—Why in the hell is she here?—but I quickly squash it away. She wouldn’t have come all the way out here instead of just picking up the phone or sending me an email if she just wanted to give me bad news. No one does that. Even someone with a bitchy attitude. I feel like it would be beneath her, and a waste of time. I can only hope that this personal visit means all of our paperwork was approved and I won’t have to tell Cindy and Belle that I fucked everything up.
“Welcome to my home. Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot. I mean, well, my boyfriend got it ready before he left, but I flipped the switch so technically I made it,” I ramble with a nervous laugh, motioning with my head for her to follow me back through the living room.
She pulls the strap of her giant designer purse, which looks like it could possibly hold a few severed heads, higher on her shoulder, not even cracking a smile as she begrudgingly follows behind me to the kitchen.
I quickly go around the island and grab a mug out of the cupboard above the coffeepot, filling it up and splashing hot liquid all over my hand when I turn around too fast.
“Shit, fuck, damn,” I mutter, shaking out my hand as I set the coffee cup down, looking up to find her staring at me in disgust. “I mean, shoot, fork, darn it.”
Another nervous giggle comes out of my mouth, and I mentally scold myself and get my shit together as I slide the coffee mug across the counter towards her.
“That shirt is . . .” Ursula finally says, trailing off as I look down at my tank top, which she’s pointing at.
It’s ocean blue and form fitting, and has a sexy cartoon drawing of Cinderella showing off a lot of cleavage and playing with a strand of pearls on her neck with one finger. Below the cartoon are the words “The Naughty Princess Club” in hot pink, cursive script. I designed one for each of us with sexy cartoon drawings of our respective princesses. Belle’s is yellow, and mine is green. I ordered a sample of Cindy’s only, just to make sure we liked the fit before I ordered the others, and we put them up on our website, along with coffee mugs, magnets, and a bunch of other merchandise with the same designs, which I thought would be a great way to promote the business while also making extra money.
“It’s cute, right? Not too in-your-face sexy or inappropriate for the general public. Kind of like our business,” I tell her.
And yes, with another fucking nervous laugh.
?
??I regret to inform you that the board has decided against approving your business license,” Ursula states with a lift of her chin.
Jesus Christ, she couldn’t ease into this shit? Maybe make some small talk about the goddamn weather first? What kind of a monster is this woman?
My stomach drops right down into my toes, and the coffee I sucked down is threatening to come right back up as I press my hand to my stomach and try not to scream.
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” I whisper, wondering why in the hell those assholes sent a fucking assistant out here to break the news to me instead of doing it themselves, those dickless, spineless pieces of shit.
“I assure you, this is not a joke. It’s a simple matter of you not doing what was required—turning in the paperwork by the due date. The board has also decided that your business model doesn’t meet the high standards of the community, and it wouldn’t be profitable enough to benefit the community with the small amount of taxes that would go to it. It’s not worth the headache,” she tells me with absolutely zero emotion or even an ounce of sympathy while she stands here in my fucking kitchen crushing my dreams.
“But, this is our job. This is our life. This is how we support ourselves and pay our bills. It’s an honest living, even if they don’t think it is, and we’re not doing anything wrong. This business is growing by leaps and bounds every day, and is more than profitable enough to benefit the community. There’s got to be some way we can appeal this, right?”
Ursula lets out an irritated sigh, and it takes everything in me not to launch myself over the counter and smack that look right off of her face. But kicking the ass of the messenger won’t do me or the Naughty Princess Club any good. As much as it kills me, I have to keep my calm and keep a clear head instead of screaming obscenities at her.
“The next board meeting at the end of next week. You could always attend and plead your case in person, but I’m telling you: The decision has already been made and the board was very firm about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.”
With that, she turns away from me abruptly, and like it’s happening in slow motion, I watch her fucking designer monstrosity of a purse smack against the Eric look-alike bust. It goes flying off of the counter as she starts walking away, and then I hear a loud crash.
I race around the island and let out a gasp when I see it shattered into a million pieces all over the carpet. It must have smacked against the seat of the barstool when it went over. And since it was God knows how old, it was fragile and unable to handle a drop like that. Falling to my knees on the carpet, my eyes fill with tears as I stare at the ridiculous antique that I was looking at just moments ago, thinking about how precious it was to me and what it symbolized: Falling in love with Eric and finding myself again.
“Oh, sorry about that,” Ursula mutters as she looks down at me, not sorry in the least, judging by the smug expression on her face. Like she knew exactly what the thing meant to me.
Fuck. This. Shit. I will never again let someone make me feel like I’m not good enough.
“What time did you say that board meeting was?” I ask, swallowing back my tears as I look up at this evil woman with my own haughty expression.
“Saturday. Six o’clock,” she tells me with a pinched look on her face, like she just sucked on a lemon.
“Excellent. Tell the board we’ll be there. And that we’re not going down without a fucking fight, so those dickless, spineless pieces of shit damn well better brace themselves.”
Chapter 23: Am I in the Fucking Twilight Zone?
“Everything’s going to be fine. You guys are brilliant, and I’m sure you’ll be able to fix this problem. You know I’m here for you if you need help with anything,” Eric tells me as he turns into a gated community on the outskirts of town. My palms start to sweat.
I didn’t go into great detail with him about what happened yesterday with Ursula. I was too pissed off to do anything other than stomp around the kitchen, slamming cupboards and muttering every curse word I could think of, in between shoveling Hostess cupcakes in my mouth. All I told Eric was that there was a snafu with some of our business paperwork. It felt wrong to give him all the information when I haven’t even told Cindy and Belle yet.
I will. I just need to get through this brunch first. One crisis at a time.
“Jesus Christ, your mom lives here all by herself?” I ask, staring with my mouth hanging open at the sprawling house with a white limestone façade in front of us as Eric pulls into the circular drive, complete with a white marble fountain in its center.
There’s an actual dome up on the roof above the entry, with figures carved into it from Greek mythology. A dome. This house is easily twenty thousand square feet, and I swallow down the lump in my throat as I look up at it.
Really, it feels like a disservice to call it a house. It’s a mansion. A fucking palace. A huge stone structure with more windows than I can count and an attached four-car garage.
“Yes,” Eric laughs, reaching over and grabbing my hand when he shuts off the engine. “Well, she has a live-in maid, a house manager, and a groundskeeper, so she’s never really by herself.”
Good God almighty, I am out of my element.
I knew Eric came from money. Shit, I know he has money, but this is more than I even imagined. There are marble pillars on the front porch. Fucking pillars. I wouldn’t get splinters in my ass if I shimmied up those pillars like I did on my front porch when the sheriff came to kick me out, that’s for sure.
I laugh at the thought of me climbing up those things in the dress I’m wearing.
“Are you okay?” Eric asks, tugging my hand over and placing a kiss on it.
“I’m just wondering if I’m dressed appropriately. I’m thinking maybe a ball gown and a tiara might have been more appropriate. Maybe with a fur cape and one of those fancy scepter things,” I mutter, dropping Eric’s hand to get out of his SUV.
Eric meets me on my side of the vehicle, sliding his hands over my hips and linking his fingers together against my lower back.
“You could be wearing one of my T-shirts and nothing else and you’d be perfect,” he says, smiling down at me. “But I have to say, this dress is doing things for me. I’m already thinking about dragging you into the office, making you call me sir, and bending you over the desk.”
My skin heats just thinking about what he’s saying, and I playfully shove my palms against his chest. After an hour-long video phone call with Cindy last night, during which I dragged out every article of clothing I owned, she finally decided I should wear the green-and-black sheath pencil dress I’ve currently squeezed myself into.
I bought it to wear when I went into work at my store a few years ago and haven’t looked at it since. It clings to my curves and shows off my hourglass figure, the hem stopping right above my knees. With small capped sleeves and a square neckline, I’m showing the tiniest hint of cleavage, but nothing porn star-ish, since brunch at a fancy mansion with Eric’s mother didn’t seem like an appropriate time for my boobs to be hanging out. The sleeves of the dress are black, as are the sides all the way down to the hem, while the rest is emerald green. Cindy called it my power color. It matches my eyes, and when I tried it on for her, she could immediately see confidence shining all over my face.
Eric grabs my hand and laces his fingers through mine, and my black pointed toe stilettos click against the stone walkway as we make our way up to the house.
“Don’t be nervous. My mom is going to love you,” he reassures me as we pause in front of the huge cherrywood door.
As I got ready this morning, I went through all the things I knew about Eric’s mom that I appreciated, to try and make myself feel better about this meeting. She’s a smart woman who more than quadrupled the profits of his father’s company after he passed away. She’s a business owner who did everything she could to provide for her son and make sure he would have a solid future. And she’s clearly a kick-ass, independent woman,
considering she’d made Eric’s father take her last name. On paper we have a lot in common, and I know I have nothing to be nervous about.
“Of course she’s going to love me. I’m a fucking delight.” I smile up at him and he chuckles as he reaches for the door handle.
The door is flung open before he can even touch it, and a middle-aged woman with the same dark hair as Eric flings open the door with a huge smile on her face. She has a few strands of gray through her hair and wears it pulled back in a low bun. She’s wearing a pair of charcoal dress pants, a loose fitting peach-colored tunic top, and ballet flats, and I definitely don’t feel like I need the fur cape and scepter anymore. I’m perfectly happy with my dress choice.
“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in. You don’t call, you don’t write, you don’t visit. You’re a selfish little shit, you know that?”
Eric lets out a full belly laugh and I quickly realize all of those nerves were for nothing. I’m already half in love with this woman.
He lets go of my hand to step into the doorway, scooping his mother up into his arms as she lets out a squeal, smacking his the shoulder and giving him a stern look even though she’s smiling at him.
“Put me down! Where are your manners? You just let this poor, gorgeous creature stand there on the front steps without introducing me? What is wrong with you? I taught you better than that!”
Eric finally sets her back on her feet, turning to grab my hand and pull me into the doorway and against his side, sliding his arm around my waist.
“Melinda, this is my girlfriend, Ariel.”
Butterflies flap around in my stomach when I hear him introduce me as his girlfriend. I can’t stop the giddy smile that takes over my face, and I seriously hope we can get some alone time this afternoon to sneak away into the office he spoke of so I can properly thank him.