20. Georgia
This is the most awkward dinner that I’ve ever had in my life—and I once had dinner with a guy's mom after she caught us hooking up in their laundry room.
Derek’s mom, Lidia, is like a serpent. She sees everything, and the way that she looks at me has my skin crawling.
We’ve been here for almost thirty minutes, and in that short time, she’s questioned me on my parents, my “wealth,” my ambitions, cooking skills—hell, she asked me if I could do laundry at one point.
And she hasn’t stopped grilling me. Once.
The food smells good, but I couldn’t tell you shit about how it tastes, considering she hasn’t let me breathe long enough to stuff my mouth.
Derek’s hand on my thigh is the only thing keeping me from storming out of here and cursing everyone for putting me in such an awkward position. But the person that I blame the most is myself—and Derek a bit.
Had we not gotten married in Vegas, we wouldn’t be sitting here getting grilled out by a five-foot-one, red lipstick-wearing, mama bear.
Chuckling under my breath at the thought of the mother and son sharing a nickname, I take a small sip of my lukewarm water.
“So, what do you know about my son other than the fact that he has a $150 million inheritance?”
I choke on my water.
150 million dollars?!
My eyes cut to Derek in my periphery before focusing back on his mother. Had I known that his inheritance was a hundred-fifty fucking million dollars, I would’ve told him to buy us lunch earlier instead of insisting on cooking today.
“Do you even know about Delilah’s mother? My son’s favorite meal? Do you even know Delilah’s middle names? I mean, you came out of nowhere—”
To my horror, Derek is the one to cut his mother off. “You’ve been grilling my wife for the past forty minutes, Mamá. She hasn’t even touched her food yet. Let her eat.”
“No… uh… It’s okay! Derek hasn’t told me about Deli’s mom, but I’d love to know when he’s ready to tell me. We don’t force one another to talk about things,” I say, hoping I’ve said the right words as he gives my knee a squeeze.
I’m totally bombing this dinner…
Lidia chuckles under her breath. “La gringa ni siquiera sabe ese pequeno detalle1 .”
Am I supposed to be offended?
“?Ya, mamá2!” Derek’s voice booms in the room.
Delilah’s spoon clatters to her plate, and I pause as in my movements, my cup mere centimeters from my mouth.
“Es mi esposa, pórtate bien3.”
Those words seem to make Lidia go ramrod straight as she and Derek stare one another down.
I have no idea what they’re saying, but I know that it has everything to do with me…
Shit.
“Excuse me?” his mom exclaims, tilting her head and cocking her jaw at her son as he backs down slightly.
“Why don’t we move on to a safer topic, Mamá?” he asks to my surprise, although it’s not surprising considering I’ve never seen Derek so serious before; his mom agrees.
She plasters a smile across her face, and unease ripples in my stomach.
Coming into tonight's dinner, I was a nervous wreck—and for good reason. She fucking hates me, and she doesn’t even know me.
“You’re right, honey. Georgia, I assume you’re visiting family for spring break, no? So you’ll be missing out on our traditional break in Texas, right?”
Her tone is dipped in sugar, her smile is like honey, but her words are sharp; she wants to see me fail at this whole wife thing. She wants to be proven right.
“Yeah, she’ll be at her mom’s—”
I cut Derek off, staring his mother down as I plaster on a smile of my own, “Of course I’ll be in Texas, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Girl, you don’t know shit about Texas!” Sienna cackles, and the penguin face mask she’s wearing crinkles with her laughter as Cleo and Denver join in.
Plopping down on the couch between Sienna and Denver, I sigh.
“I know.”
It’s been officially five days since the dinner from Hell, and tonight is Marg Night… well, more like Margs and Apple Juice night. Delilah’s home with us girls, doing self-care and watching movies with us as we gossip.
To say that I've been freaking out about that crazy dinner would be an understatement. As soon as we got in the car, Derek apologized for his mother, and I hit up the group chat with all the details from the disastrous feast.
The first thing they suggested? Girls’ night.
So here we are, sitting around Derek’s living room, drinking margaritas and apple juice, eating cupcakes, watching the newest Princess North movie.
Delilah comes into the living room, her own face mask on her tiny face as she plops down in Cleo’s lap.
“I’m trusfrated.” She pouts, throwing her head back into Cleo’s chest as she smiles at the young girl.
“Frustrated, Deli Belly. What’s wrong?” I ask as she turns her cute little pout my way.
She groans, clearly tired as she gets up from Cleo’s lap and climbs into my own.
“I can’t braid my hair. It won’t work.” she whines, grabbing my hands and placing them in her tangled curls.
“Aw, Dels, I would’ve done it for you… Come on, I’ll get the stuff to braid your hair, and we’ll teach you how to braid.”
Deli and I head to her room, grab her things, and head back out to the girls. The three of them are already in a weird formation, braiding one another’s hair.
Cleo giggles as she massages Sienna’s scalp, her cousin humming in response as she braids Denver's hair.
“I can see the videos now on my ‘For you’ page... It’ll be this video right here, and it’ll say ‘this is girlhood’ as the caption,” I say with a laugh as I plop down in front of Denver and pull Delilah into my lap.
“You take three pieces of hair and fold them like this,” I say, demonstrating for Delilah as she watches, nodding along.
Delilah turns in my lap to look at me, her eyes bright. “I want my hair to look just like yours!”
My heart melts from her words as the girls let out a chorus of “aws” around us. We continue braiding, the five of us laughing and joking with one another as the apartment's alarm goes off and the front door opens.
“Darlin’, I’m—hello, ladies.” Derek furrows his brows, a small smile forming on his face as he takes in our small circle in the living room.
His arms are full to the brim with grocery store bags and his hockey bag. Popping up from my spot between Delilah and Denver, I take a bag from his arms.
“You’re home early, did you kick their asses?”
He chuckles, setting down some bags as Delilah tackles his thighs.
“Is the sky blue? Of course, we did.” He chuckles as he picks her up and kisses her cheek. She kisses his cheek in response with a loud popping sound.
Derek pretends to gobble her neck, laughing as his daughter giggles before his eyes land back on the girls. “Are y'all having a sleepover at my place… without me?”
Sienna pops her head up from the couch. “Yup! Got a problem?”
Derek rolls his eyes and whispers loudly to Deli, “Cover your eyes, Sunshine.”
She listens immediately, covering her eyes with her tiny hands as Derek flips off my friend before turning back to me.
“Well, I’ll leave you ladies to it… Did you eat anything today?” he asks, his focus on me causing me to squirm as Delilah taps her dad to be released, kicking her legs.
He does so instantly, setting her down, allowing her to run off to the girls.
“We ate breakfast, lunch, and cupcakes,” I say, ticking the three things off with my fingers as he sighs.
“What am I going to do with you? I’ll make all of you some dinner. I assume tonight was a ‘girl dinner’ night, right?” he asks with a small laugh as I swat at his shoulder, following him into the kitchen.
I take a seat on the kitchen island and grin, “I would’ve cooked…”
“Grilled cheese," he butts in with a knowing look as I roll my eyes.
“Fine, I would’ve ordered in.”
Derek chuckles, washing his hands.
“Want to help me? I got the stuff to make vodka pasta.”
“Could I drink vodka and watch you cook shirtless with your glasses and apron on?” I tease, hopping off the island, taking a step toward his back as he chuckles.
“Am I just a piece of meat to you, dear wife?” he jokes, turning around, letting me cage him between the stove and myself.
Even though he’s abnormally huge in stature, Derek has never made me feel small. I mean, yes, I feel short as hell whenever he’s near, but I don’t feel like a powerless person around him. He lets me take control of our situations—lets me be myself.
“You’re a hot piece of meat, if that helps.” I grin.
Derek mimics my expression, getting everything out to make our food.
“Give our girl back when you’re done, Perez!” Cleo shouts from the living room as Derek chuckles in my ear.
Somehow, along the way of us cooking, I ended up in the space between Derek and the stove, stirring the pasta he’d forced me to make myself.
His warm breath sends a ripple of pleasure down my spine as he moves my hair to my shoulder, leaning down. My thighs clench from his sheer proximity as he chuckles. “I’m never giving you back.”
My breath catches in my throat as I turn to face him, our faces a hair away from one another as my eyes track to his lips.
You miss one hundred percent of the shots that you don’t take.
I repeat the saying in my head, psyching myself up only to not need it, because instead of me making the first move.
Derek does.
I’m frozen in place as he leans in close, sealing our fates and lips together in one long, tantalizing dance.
“You taste sweet.”
1 La gringa ni siquiera sabe ese pequeno detalle - The foreigner doesn't even know that small piece of information
2 ?Ya, mamá! - Enough, mom
3 Es mi esposa, pórtate bien- She is my woman, behave yourself