to manage. But I must be mistaken about that. There’s no way Edgar is unruly.
But finally Edgar’s dad turns his focus on me. He studies me from head to toe, then back up. I feel like a returned purse being inspected by a shop clerk from the careful attention he pays to me. Do I have popped stitches along my neck or a stain on my fabric?
When he’s done, he seems mildly surprised.
I guess that means I passed the inspection…? Except it doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Father,” Edgar says coolly. “What are you doing here?”
“Since you’re refusing to come back to Tempérane and resume your responsibilities, I decided to come see what’s been keeping you here.” Edgar’s dad’s voice is flat but smooth and cultured, with Louisiana as thick as frosting on top. Heah. “And now I see. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Edgar looks like he’d rather jump out a window. “This is Josephine Martinez. Jo, this is my father, Tulane Blackwood.”
“The woman you’re going to marry,” Edgar’s dad says.
“Yes.”
Edgar’s dad turns to me, his expression polite but probing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Josephine.” Plezhah.
“Jo’s fine. The pleasure’s mine, Mr. Blackwood,” I say neutrally. I want him gone, but I can’t be rude now after letting him up.
“You may call me Lane.” His tone is coolly arrogant, and his attitude says he doesn’t care that he comes across that way. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize.
Maybe he’s going to hold a hand out so I can kiss his ring. He’s wearing a square one on his right ring finger.
“Hello, Ivy. I see you’re quite large now,” he says.
“She’s expecting twins,” Tony says. He’s tense. Way, way too tense.
“Ah, yes.” Lane turns to Pascal. “And you must be Pascal. So when are you and my son finally going to tie the knot? It’s not good to drag out an engagement. Makes people wonder.”
“When we get around to it, Dad,” Court says. “I’m sure your social circle has better things to worry about than our engagement-to-marriage timeline.”
Oh, wow. Court seemed like such an easygoing guy. I would’ve never thought him capable of delivering such a cold response to his own father. If one of my brothers said something like that, Mama would beat him with a wooden spatula and kick him out without dinner.
On the other hand, I can’t even imagine my family talking to each other this way.
Lane looks at him dispassionately, then goes to the sink to wash his hands and dry them with a paper towel. That done, he gestures at the table like he’s hosting a grand banquet. “Let’s eat, shall we? I’m famished.”
Tony, Ivy and Court look away. It’s obvious they want to leave but don’t want Edgar and me to deal with Lane by ourselves.
Anxiety slowly unfurls within me. It isn’t like I’ve never met a guy’s parent. I met Aaron’s family, including his grandfather, and I was fine with the entire event. But this feels like a job interview.
We all settle back down, our earlier easy mood replaced by an awkward tension. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to eat without getting indigestion later.
But all the Blackwoods, including Ivy, start eating. Maybe they’re used to this. After looking around, Pascal shrugs, finishes her drink and takes a slice of pizza. I nibble on my food only because my baby’s going to need the nourishment.
“I think she’ll do well in Tempérane,” Lane says between bites of pepperoni pizza. At least he’s picking it up with a hand to eat it, rather than getting a knife and fork to cut it into perfectly square pieces. It wouldn’t have surprised me.
“She might enjoy a very short visit, if she feels up to it, but she’s very busy,” Edgar says.
I have a feeling he’s being circumspect for my sake, and I keep my mouth shut, since the last thing I want is to get in the middle of whatever’s going on between the two. Edgar cares about what happens to me, but clearly Lane doesn’t. I can see that now. I don’t know his real objective for being here, but I’m sure he’d gladly walk right over me to get it.
“Nonsense.” Lane turns to me with a smile. “I’m sure Edgar has told you all about your new role as his fiancée and…wife.”
My role? Does he want a résumé?
Since that’s not an appropriate response, I say nothing and smile back. I also don’t mention the baby, because I’d bet every Chanel purse I own that