Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,80

arms, Mom met my eyes and gave me the dreaded single eyebrow lift. “Two months, Camden.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Am I right about that? You got married two months ago?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And I’m just now meeting my daughter-in-law?” She shook her head, registering her disappointment. Then her gaze moved to Sophie and her face lit up with a bright smile. “And now I get to meet my daughter-in-law. Come here, sweetheart.”

Sophie let go of my hand and stepped into Mom’s arms for a hug.

Mom moved back and took Sophie’s hands. “Let me look at you. Sophie Abbott. You sure grew up to be a pretty thing, didn’t you?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Cox.”

“Oh honey, call me Georgia for now. When you’re comfortable, you can call me Mom. Come on in.”

Call her Mom? I was starting to wonder if I should have kept this whole thing quiet.

She ushered us inside and led us to the kitchen. In addition to a red front door, Mom’s dream home list had included a big kitchen with lots of counter space and an island with stools so her guests could sit and chat with her while she cooked. So that was exactly what I’d given her.

“Your home is so beautiful,” Sophie said.

“Thank you,” Mom said. “It is a blessing.”

She’d already put out a plate of cheese and crackers and she poured us glasses of her famous sweet tea. Sophie took a seat at the island. Mom still wasn’t looking at me. I wondered how long she was going to hold onto this grudge.

And how long she was going to insist on calling Sophie her daughter-in-law.

Technically it was true. For now. But did she actually believe I was going to stay married?

Not that there was anything wrong with Sophie. She’d make the sweetest little wife in the world. But marriage wasn’t for me. I’d known that since I was a kid. And I wasn’t going to start questioning it now, just because I happened to be dating my wife. And enjoying it.

“I think the last time I saw you, you must have been twelve or thirteen?” Mom asked.

Sophie nodded. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

“Well, we both know my son wasn’t exactly his best self at that age. He was awfully mean to you, wasn’t he?”

“He really was.”

I leaned against the counter. “Thanks for bringing that up.”

“Don’t blame me. You’re the one who was a snotty little shit to the poor girl. I hope you’ve properly apologized.”

“Mom, I was a kid.”

“You certainly were. And a troubled one, at that.” She turned to Sophie. “How’s your daddy? I apologize, but I don’t recall his name.”

“Melvin Abbott, but his friends call him Mel,” Sophie said. “And that’s okay; it was a long time ago. He’s fine, all things considered. He has some mobility issues, but he does all right.”

“His housing situation is less than ideal,” I said. “But I’ll be taking care of that soon.”

“Will you, now?” Mom asked.

Sophie glanced at me. “It’s part of our agreement. You know, the whole oops we got married thing. You do know the whole story, right?”

“Oh sure,” Mom said. “Vegas. Too much whiskey. Next thing you know, you’ve got an Elvis impersonator declaring you man and wife.”

“I know it’s kind of an unusual situation,” Sophie said. “So I just want you to know I appreciate you welcoming me into your home like this.”

Mom smiled at her. “Of course, honey. We’re family.” Her eyes flicked to me, then back to Sophie. “Even if my son still thinks it’s just for now.”

I swallowed back a groan. She was laying it on thick.

Fortunately, Sophie seemed to be taking my mom’s lack of subtlety in stride. She laughed and helped herself to a piece of cheese and a cracker.

I reached to get one for myself, but Mom smacked my hand away.

“What was that for?”

“I’m not ready to forgive you yet.”

“For what?”

Her brow furrowed, like I’d just asked a stupid question. “For all of it. Drink your tea and be happy with what you get.”

I picked up my glass. There was no arguing with her when she dug in her heels. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mom turned her attention back to Sophie, asking her friendly questions about her life. It was a far cry from the grilling Mr. Abbott had given me. I was pretty sure my mom liked Sophie more than she liked me at the moment.

Luckily for me, Mom seemed to come closer to forgiving me the longer we stayed. Sophie and I helped her get lunch on the table, and she even let