22. Knox
Chapter twenty-two
Knox
Rule #25: Roommate gifts are unnecessary.
A s I expected, my mother called soon after breakfast to address what I had said the night before. Given that I had told her I was engaged to Gemma, it would have surprised me if she hadn't. Thankfully, Gemma had agreed to go along with the fake engagement, at least for the moment.
But the whiff of a game Gemma had referred to was all too real, and my suspicions about her straightforward personality barreling into my mother and complicating the situation had only been confirmed this morning. If Gemma knew my mother was using her, she would fly off the handle. Then, my mother would dig her heels in, and we wouldn’t get anything useful from our conversations with her. I didn’t see how telling Gemma about my mother’s insulting scheme would help matters. If I wanted to best Sylvia and extricate Gemma from this mess, then I needed to be strategic. Calm. Rational.
All things I never felt around Gemma.
I answered my mother's call from where I sat on the couch, glancing at Gemma as she played her online video game with headphones covering her ears. "Hello?"
"Knox," my mother responded tersely.
I put down my controller, opened a recording app on my phone, and answered. "How can I help you, Mother?" Gemma had gotten me hooked on this stupid go-kart game. I was obsessed with beating my own times.
"I'd like to speak about what happened last night."
I glanced at Gemma again. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, and she had her pink tongue poking out from her teeth as she concentrated on a battle. "I'm sure you do."
"Have you truly become attached to this… matchmaker person?" she asked with obvious contempt.
Ah, revenge was sweet. "Of course. You did trick us into living together. What did you think would happen?" I took in Gemma's intense expression and the darling way she had her legs folded up in the chair while she smashed the space bar on her keyboard rapidly. I suppressed a chuckle. "Gemma is perfect for me. She's smart and funny, and frankly, I'm surprised at your acumen in choosing an arranged bride. You might consider Gemma's line of work."
I could feel her anger from the other side of the phone. "I'm not sure when you became such an insufferably impertinent person, Knox, but your father and I do not appreciate it." She hadn’t taken the bait just yet and had neither confirmed nor denied that she had tried to force us to get married.
"Is there something you wanted to say other than to communicate your displeasure, Mother?"
Silence tightened on her end before she forced out, "I should like to meet with you both. We need to cement a date for the wedding and begin plans."
So far, she was acting exactly like I’d hoped she would. Now I just needed to push her over the edge. "Alright," I said cautiously. "We'd be happy to meet with you."
"Tonight, at Harry and Harriet's?"
Of course, she would choose a stuffy, over-priced restaurant. "Certainly."
"Knox?" she asked with a disconcerting sharpness.
"Yes, Mother?"
"I don't bluff; I hope you realize that. And dinner is on you. I'll see you there at seven."
I hung up and stared at the phone with a tapeworm of worry and disgust eating away at my insides. This whole thing was a nightmare. My only slight solace was that Gemma was clever and resilient, and if anyone could stand up to my mother, it had to be her… as long as she didn’t come out swinging. Sighing, I stood from the couch, turned off the console, and tapped her shoulder where she sat in her gaming chair.
Gemma rotated a questioning look my way, and I mimed taking her headphones off. She obliged, and I said, "I have two favors to ask of you."
Her enormous, lash-fringed eyes blinked twice. "Okay."
"First, are you willing to go to dinner with your fake monster-in-law tonight? She wants to meet and go over," I paused to make air quotes with my fingers, "'engagement plans.'"
Gemma cringed. "That sounds positively atrocious. Yes. Next?"
Here it was. The ring part. My heart suddenly went zero to sixty in two seconds flat, and I pulled in a surprisingly shaky breath.
Why was I nervous about this? It wasn't real. And yet, my hands had gone clammy and my breath shallow, like I was actually about to propose to this woman who was wearing strawberry-printed pajamas and fuzzy pink socks. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ring case. "Will you… fake marry me?"
Gemma's mouth made a horrified O. "You bought a ring?"
I opened the case, revealing a modest but high-quality diamond set in a princess cut. "We have to sell the story," I said gruffly, but it caught in my throat. Jesus, what was wrong with me? Why was this affecting me? It was just jewelry. I'd gifted jewelry to lovers before.
But as Gemma unfolded herself from her chair and gaped at the ring in my hand, I knew I was lying to myself. Gemma wasn't just a lover . She was something else. She was far beyond what I thought I had known about relationships. I wanted to spend every moment in her presence and run from the intensity of my feelings at the same time. I wanted to make her smile and catch every tear. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and promise her the world if it brought her happiness.
Total insanity.
Gemma came to stand in front of me but eyed the ring like I held a mousetrap on my palm. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of method acting."
"Don't be silly." I reached down and took her soft hand in mine. "We'll return it when we're done. No big deal." I positioned her hand in the air and took the ring from the velvet box. Snapping it closed, I put it back in my pocket and gently cupped her fingers. I slid the ring over her finger, holding my breath and hoping I'd guessed the size of her finger correctly. It slid over her knuckle a little too easily and hung on her finger with some looseness, but it wasn't terrible.
Gemma held it to the light, staring at it in wonder. "It's so sparkly."
"Diamonds often are," I remarked with a dose of amusement.
She slid an uncertain look my way. "This feels really fucking weird."
It was both weird and oddly… satisfying. I shook that thought away. "Sorry. I'm doing my best to get us out of this."
Gemma sighed, letting her hand fall to her side and shrugging. "Well, I always wondered what it felt like to be engaged." She glanced around the apartment like she was waiting for something.
"How does it feel?" I asked with a laugh in my voice.
Gemma's brilliant sapphire eyes held mine seriously. "Complicated."
Gemma fidgeted with her dress, tugging the black miniskirt over her opaque black stockings nervously. "Is this whole thing really necessary?"
I glanced at the way the skirt hugged her ass, showing off her generous assets even with a bulky cream sweater swathing the top of her frame. She looked entirely too fuckable to be in public. "No, the skirt is definitely not necessary. You should take it off."
We had just entered the restaurant and given our coats to the ma?tre d', and Gemma rolled her eyes up to me with a humor-laced glare. "That is not what I meant."
I hooked my arm around her waist and squeezed her to my side. "It'll be just fine. My mother is a snake, but she won't bite you… in public."
"Reassuring," she muttered. Gemma had curled her hair into soft waves that fell down her back, and she looked strangely innocent. I knew better, but at that moment, as she walked at my side, small and somewhat nervous, I couldn't help but think I was leading her to the den of vipers. It was to protect her… wasn't it? I didn't have time to contemplate further because then we were at my mother's table, and she stood to greet us.
Mother wore a wool tweed skirt suit in the only acceptable color for her dour personality—black. She'd accented it with diamonds and fake eyelashes, and I felt myself ratcheting up tight on the defensive immediately. After med school, I hadn't had to deal with my mother very often. Her sudden re-emergence in my life was not at all welcome. She smiled mirthlessly, and it barely crinkled her aging eyes. "Knox. Gemma. I can't tell you how happy I am to have you both here."
She couldn't tell us because she didn't feel it. Funny. Gemma held out her hand with a plucky smile that honestly made me want to fall to my knees in worship. She was so goddamn gorgeous. I felt like an idiot for not giving in to my attraction to her earlier. "Hello, Mrs. Rook. It's a pleasure to see you again."
Sylvia shook Gemma's hand like she was shaking hands with a faceless tentacle. "Gemma. Goodness. Imagine my surprise."
"Surprise?" Gemma laughed. "You made me sign my own marriage certificate. How is this a surprise?"
Fuck. Right for the jugular. "Down, girl," I muttered in her ear as my mother's smile froze into stone and she slid into her seat at our table. I’d never get a confession out of Sylvia if Gemma forced her on the defensive right away. I had the recording app open on my phone, but it would only be helpful if we got the right phrase out of Sylvia.
"How very imaginative," Sylvia bit out.
Harry and Harriet's was an upscale, rustic establishment with windows that faced the Oregon Coast Range and the misty pine forest that crept up the side of the low mountain range. The beige color scheme and soft lighting probably appealed to my mother's bland sensibilities as much as the high price range. I pulled out a chair at our four-person table in the middle of the restaurant that teemed with muted conversation and clinking silverware. I smelled some kind of fried onion-something, and my stomach growled. I should have had us eat before we came. I had a feeling my mother was likely to ruin my appetite.
Gemma gave me a scythe-sharp glare as she took her seat and pulled up to the elegant dining set. She opened her napkin with a snap and put it on her lap before giving my mother a fake, simpering smile. "I wanted to thank you for bringing us together." I took a sip of water, hoping to wet my suddenly parched throat. Gemma went on, her voice dipping into a suggestive tone. "I've never looked forward to being tied up by someone more in my life."
I choked on the water. My throat worked convulsively to keep it from spraying my mother's face, which had taken on a stricken expression. She leaned forward a fraction. "Did you mean tie the knot?"
"What did I say?" Gemma asked like an airhead.
I cleared my throat. "What is it you wanted to discuss with us?"
Sylvia turned her attention back to me, her heavily lined eyes falling with irritation. "Darling, I'm simply overjoyed to hear the good news. Have you set a date yet?"
Gemma twirled the ring around her finger and gave me a questioning glance so full of sass, I almost reached over and pinched her. Without missing a beat, I replied, "Two years, November."
Sylvia glowered. "Two years?" It was at that moment our waiter showed up to fill our water glasses and take our drink orders, and I had to stop myself from doing a full-on facepalm when Gemma ordered two mojitos and requested they "make it a double." The last thing I needed was a tipsy Gemma at the fake engagement discussion. Then again, I wasn't sure what inebriated Gemma looked like; I had a feeling it could be fun if I played my cards right. Assuming she didn't blow this whole operation first.
After the waiter left, Gemma picked up the elegant, embossed cardstock menu and perused it with pursed lips. She pointed to something on the entree menu. "What the hell is ‘langoustine?’"
Sylvia shot Gemma a disparaging glance, and I had to tamp down a laugh. Gemma was doing this on purpose, God bless her. She was the perfect torment for my mother, and at the moment, she was all mine. I leaned over to whisper, "Try the Wagyu beef. It's the most expensive thing here. And tone it down, spicy."
She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "You're no fun."
Sylvia tapped her long, manicured nails on her menu. "Two years is a very long time. How does six months sound? A spring wedding?"
Gemma gasped, lowering her menu. "Oh no, I couldn't. What if I'm pregnant then?"
For the second time, I choked, this time on air. "Gem," I strangled out.
Sylvia got a hawkish glint in her light eyes. " Are you ?"
"Well, no," Gemma said, like she was talking about something as insignificant as langoustine. "But I could be." With a conspiratorial whisper, she added, "We have a lot of sex."
I coughed out a laugh, smoothing my hand over my mouth to poorly hide it. Sylvia put a hand to her diamond necklace. "Well."
"I think I'll have the foie gras. I love a side of animal torture with my arranged marriage meeting. It's fitting, you know?"
I couldn't decide if bringing Gemma here had been a colossal mistake or the best thing I'd ever done. I nodded. "I love your logic, darling." She shot me a sideways "ew" face at the use of my endearment, and I snorted out another laugh. God, this woman was everything.
The waiter returned with our drinks, and Gemma downed her mojito in three gulps, wiped her mouth, and smiled at the waiter who was gaping at her in quiet astonishment. "I'll take another one of these and the chicken fingers from the kids’ menu please."
"You are such a menace," I hissed at her as my mother made her order.
She gave me an eyebrow raise and replied under her breath, "I am not happy about this, Fudgecake. She clearly hates me."
"She hates everyone," I whispered through tight lips.
"One year," Sylvia said suddenly, smiling tightly. "That gives us time to find an adequate venue. I already have a tour set up for tomorrow." She pinned Gemma with a hard glare that brooked no argument. "I strongly suggest you come with me. Their waiting list is exceptionally long."
Gemma sighed, and I could almost see her folding up her crazy and tucking it back in her mental drawer. "Yes, I suppose I could do that. Where is it?"
"A beautiful location," Sylvia said with a sudden surge of energy. This was her domain—lavish parties, enormous events. She'd been itching to plan my wedding for years, and I had no doubt she already had every detail solidified and ready to go. It would just be a matter of getting Gemma to comply.
Which was no small feat.
"It's up in Happy Valley," Sylvia smiled. "Very posh, very elegant. You'll adore it."
"Hm," Gemma said, taking a sip of her second mojito.
I reached over to take Gemma's hand, and with full honesty, I said, "You don't have to go, Gem. It's our wedding."
Sylvia clicked her tongue. "Nonsense. Your father and I would be honored to pay for the wedding. We've waited so many years, after all." Her icy eyes narrowed smugly. "And of course, as a wedding gift, we would love to sign over the apartment to your ownership. Something to celebrate after all the wedding planning."
I felt Gemma's hand tighten just as my body did the same. Clever woman, my mother. This was what we were here for, and she knew it. Gemma spoke up before I could and said, "In that case, I'd love to join you."
Dammit. This was what my mother wanted. She wanted us dancing to her tune and playing along with her games, but it didn't sit right in my stomach. Yes, ownership of the apartment would solve our problems. But I didn't like the idea of Gemma spending the day alone with the wolf. "I'll come too," I said just as swiftly as Gemma had.
Sylvia gave me a glare. "Oh?"
"It's my wedding, too," I replied before taking a sip of water. I should have gotten a stronger drink. Gemma was far smarter than I was, clearly.
My mother's eyes fell to where I held Gemma's hand on my lap, and then back up to me with so much tension, she might as well be a trebuchet about to release its attack. "How very heartwarming."
Gemma gulped her mojito. "Here's to love."