16. Adrian
CHAPTER 16
ADRIAN
Jane reaches for one of the chocolates, and I do my best not to ogle her when she puts it into her mouth. There’s a child present, so I need Yoda on his best behavior.
Jane moans in pleasure.
Damn it. How can I be this turned on so soon after having my hair set on fire?
Seeing Jane’s reaction, Georgiana and Mary exchange glances and each snatch a piece of chocolate.
“This is amazing,” Georgiana says after she tries hers. “Better than s”—she glances at Mary—“eafood.”
“Seafood?” Mary exclaims. “It’s better even than the smell of old books.”
“Hey now.” Jane grabs another piece of chocolate. “It’s good, but not old-book-smell good.” She channels Leo in front of peanut butter as she stuffs the next bit of chocolate into her mouth and then moans again.
Yoda suffers in silence.
“This chocolate was made from Nacional—a rare cocoa bean variety,” I say, desperate to get my mind on something besides Jane’s sounds of pleasure. “It was aged for many years in a wooden cask—hence the subtle notes you’re probably tasting.”
Jane stops herself from grabbing another piece. “Are you trying to get us hooked on a super-expensive chocolate, like some kind of drug dealer?”
Shrugging, I take a piece. “I don’t like dealing with options, so when something is considered the best, I go for that.”
“Right,” Jane says with a slight eyeroll. “We wouldn’t expect you to lower yourself to eat a Hershey’s bar.”
I wink at her. “I’d go for one of those Hershey’s Kisses.”
Her mom says, “Aww,” and Jane’s blush is back with a red vengeance.
Mary takes a sip of her coffee and winces the way I did back in the day when Mom used to make me drink fish oil. “How come this is the first time Jane has tried your favorite chocolate?” she asks after she’s done grimacing.
Shit. This is an example of the type of thing that could trip us up at the hearing.
“He’s a health nut,” Jane says. “That’s why he eats chocolate very rarely—and I didn’t want to tease him by eating it myself.”
Oh, yeah? “And don’t forget—Jane is a reasonable-price nut,” I say pointedly. “Which is why I’ve been looking for a subtle way to sneak this ‘overpriced’ chocolate under her radar—and I clearly failed.”
“The word you’re looking for is ‘cheap,’” Georgiana says with a grin.
“I’m not cheap,” Jane huffs. “I’m thrifty—which I learned from you, Mrs. Use-that-rag-instead-of-paper-towels.”
“That’s for protecting the trees,” Georgiana says defensively. “If I were ever frugal, it was out of necessity.”
Said necessity is over with, now that I’m in their lives—even if Jane were not going to marry me—but I don’t say that out loud.
Mary’s eyes are still narrowed in suspicion. “What was your weirdest date like?”
Fuck. This is a test. Must think on my feet, pretend that this is the hearing.
“We went to a cat funeral on our second date,” I blurt. “He belonged to the CEO of one of my companies, so I had to show my support.”
That was bad, but hey, now I have something prepared in case they ask this at the hearing.
“Oh, yeah,” Jane says. “It was that evil cat.”
Mary’s eyes turn into slits. “If the cat was dead, how do you know he was evil?”
I think I might be a better liar than Jane.
Jane shrugs. “I simply assume. His name was Purrtin.”
Or maybe she’s not so bad after all, even if I would’ve gone for something like Kitler.
“That’s pretty weird,” Mary says, and her suspicion seems to ease. “Did anything funny happen during any of your dates?”
“Jane was attacked by a swan,” I say. “But I protected her.”
“What kind of swan?” Mary asks.
“Whooper,” I say. “I remember because I made a joke about it becoming swan burgers, but Jane didn’t get it.”
“Oh, I got it,” Jane says sardonically. “You forgot to mention you protected me by letting the swan bite your ass.”
I chuckle. “And Jane was upset over how expensive the ruined jeans were.”
Jane frowns at me. “Maybe we should tell everyone how you got bitten by a cow when we went to a petting zoo?”
Touché. “Maybe I should tell everyone about the time you dressed as an inflatable unicorn on Halloween, just to have the costume pop, like a balloon?”
“At least I’ve never gone to the bathroom in a poison ivy bush,” Jane says.
And that’s an image that quells Yoda’s stirrings pretty effectively—unless… did she mean that it was my butt that made contact with the imaginary poison ivy? We’ll need to iron out such details ASAP.
Suddenly, Mary squeals like, well, a little girl. Turning around, she blows out a breath. “It was the dog again,” she says. “His wet nose touched my skin.”
“He’s begging for chocolate,” I explain. “But don’t give him any. It’s toxic for dogs. Also, grapes are toxic—as are their shriveled by-blows, raisins, but he begs for all of those too.”
“Here.” Jane grabs the peanut butter from earlier, sticks her finger into the jar, and then extends it toward Leo.
The treat is gone in a millisecond, and Leo licks his chops with satisfaction.
“You might be my favorite human now,” I say in his voice. “It’s just as well you’re marrying my former favorite.”
Jane's mother grins at Leo. “Once they have a baby, that should be your favorite human.”
“Mom!” Jane says sternly and turns a delicious shade of crimson. “We’re not even married yet.”
Hmm. A baby with Jane. I’m not sure how I feel about that joke—but I do know I’d rather Jane didn’t act as though it would be the end of civilization as we know it.
“Can you stop saying gross things so that we can get back to their stories?” Mary says to Georgiana petulantly. Turning to me, she asks, “What’s the fanciest restaurant you’ve ever taken Jane to?”
This one is easy, so Jane and I take turns telling them about last night’s sushi experience and how we’re now banned from the place.
Mary’s interrogation—I mean, friendly questions—continue.
She demands to know ever more obscure details of our imaginary courtship, and we make it up as we go.
Jane seems a little annoyed as she replies to her little sister, but I’m grateful. Thanks to this, no one will be able to stump us in the same way. The crazy stories we make up are very memorable.
I’m in the middle of the story of how Jane got stuck in a washing machine at my place during a game of hide-and-seek gone wrong when I get a text.
“Ah,” I say, looking up from the phone. “Jane’s modiste is on her way to my place.”
Mary cocks her head. “Does that mean you have to go?”
“Sorry,” I say.
Mary sighs. “You’ll just have to come back. I have so many more questions.”
She does? At this point, the only thing she doesn’t know is my social security number, my cholesterol levels, and the position of Mercury when Jane and I had our first (and rather fictional) kiss.
“Maybe he will come back, maybe he won’t,” Jane says. “You can always ask me all the questions.”
Mary rolls her eyes. “You’ll only tell me the stories that make you look good.”
Jane gives me a suffering look that seems to say, “See what I have to deal with?”
Georgiana leaps to her feet. “Thank you so much for coming to meet us.”
“The pleasure was mine.” I catch Leo, attach his leash back to his collar, and ask Jane, “How long do you need to get ready?”
“I can go now,” Jane says. “Especially considering that I’ll be getting a new outfit.”
Georgiana and Mary pepper us with questions about tonight’s event all the way down the staircase and as we walk to the limo.
When we pull away, finally by ourselves, Jane says, “I’m sorry about all that.”
“I’m not. I loved your family.” It’s true—and not just because I have none of my own. They clearly love each other dearly and enjoy each other’s presence, which wasn’t the case in my family even while my parents were alive.
Jane puts a hand on my thigh. “You miss your parents, don’t you?”
“Am I that transparent?” I ask, grimacing.
“We don’t have to talk about this if you’re not comfortable,” she says.
I sigh. “I still miss them terribly, but I feel guilty because I miss Mom much more. Dad and I had a complex relationship.”
Then again, is it complex when you’re someone’s disappointment, or is it tragically simple? In contrast to Dad, Mom was proud of all the different things I was interested in, without needing me to become a master at any one trade.
“Nothing to feel guilty about,” Jane says softly. “I don’t even know my dad, so I only care about what happens to my mom.”
I force a smile—albeit a weak one. “Between this and your sister’s questions, I think we can pass for having dated for six months.”
She pulls her hand away. “I know, right? We just need to rehearse all the stuff we made up for Mary, and we’ll be golden.”
We do just that for the rest of the ride.
When we get to my building, I watch Jane’s expression as we pass by security because even though Susan is gone, there are a number of attractive women working the desk still, ones I’ve never had any relations with.
Hmm. Blushing aside, Jane would make a great poker player. Her thoughts are unreadable as we head to my place.
When we step out of the elevator, Jane looks around the entry hall. “Is the ‘modiste’ here already?”
I check my phone. “Nope. Mrs. Dubois will be here in ten minutes or so, the others even later.”
Jane arches an eyebrow. “The ‘modiste’ even has a French last name?”
“And an accent to go with it,” I say with a grin. “I figured you’d appreciate that.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t even want to know how much extra you had to pay for the French version.”
“As we wait for Mrs. Dubois, would you like a tour of the penthouse?”
Oops. The word ‘tour’ seems to be a trigger from the gallery debacle—because I can see Jane wince before she puts her poker face back on.
“Sure,” she says, although a bit reluctantly. “I know you’ve been dying to show it all off.”