24. Rei
He wanted me to meet his mother.
And that made me like him even more.
I stared at him, just to make sure I’d heard him right. “You want to take me home to Mama?”
He fought a smile. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
Was he embarrassed? That was so adorable. “You know, the way a man treats his mother says a lot about him.”
“You haven’t seen how I treat her yet,” Quentin countered.
I raised my eyebrows. “You want me to meet her, though, I’m assuming you like her.”
“If you think I’m a stalker, wait ’til you meet her. She’s already run a background check on you, but she wants a DNA sample to be more thorough,” he said, straight-faced.
I stared at him in shock.
Then he laughed. A real laugh that brightened his features and made his chest shake. “I had you there.”
“Quentin!” I whisper-yelled, although I was smiling too.
“It’s important for you to meet,” he said. “They’ll all want to know you when they learn how important you are to me.”
My heart flipped at his words, making it hard to reply.
Good thing the server brought our food just then.
I took a bite, savoring the sweet cream filling mixed with dough and sugary syrup.
It was heaven on earth, or more aptly, heaven in my mouth.
“So good,” I mumbled. “We should serve this at our wedding.”
“Our wedding,” he echoed.
Our hands stilled on our silverware, and we looked across the table at each other like we were truly realizing it now.
“We’re getting married,” I whispered, testing the word like I’d tested the food. “Married?” It didn’t feel real.
Quentin looked at me with a guarded expression.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked him.
He only nodded.
My eyebrows drew together. “That’s all you have to say? A nod?”
Reaching across the table, he took my hand. “You’d call me a stalker if I told you what I’m really thinking.”
“Please say something because I’m about to hyperventilate,” I said, only half joking.
I knew I’d do what it took to protect my company and my employees, but the reality was truly sinking in.
Like maybe I thought it was all a joke just to see if I’d go along with it.
But here we were at brunch discussing wedding dates and when I’d meet his parents.
He rolled his lips together and tilted his head as he looked me over. “I never thought I’d be in a situation to choose between getting married and protecting my company. But when Simon told us his conditions, your face came to my mind. You, Rei Li, are the best possible outcome.”
My stomach bottomed out as I realized just how truly Quentin had admired me and for how long. I wished that he’d approached me sooner. Maybe we could have dated a few more weeks before he had to ask me such a major question.
But then again, would an extra few weeks have made a difference? Marriage would still be too soon either way. At least Quentin was honest with me about the marriage clause up front, and I found myself respecting that about him.
His principles seemed clear in what he did, which made me wonder even more why Conrad was so against him. I decided to ask... “What do you think of my CE–my boss? Conrad?”
I sipped my coffee, hoping he didn’t notice the slip.
Quentin sliced another bite of French toast and ate it before answering. “He’s fine.” Then he pinned me under a stare. “Why?”
I nearly squirmed. “I just wondered how he acted around you.” That much was true.
“We don’t get much face time, to be honest,” Quentin replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve met him just once to deliver a check we had an error on.” He looked annoyed at that. “We hired a new assistant controller and training has been rocky, but we’re getting there.”
“You delivered a check?” I asked in what I hoped was a casual tone. “Seems like you would be too busy for something like that.”
He shrugged. “MyHome comes under a lot of heat for using AI tech and how quickly we grew. It’s important we maintain a good reputation where we can.
Plus, a banking delay like that can affect employee wages.
I wanted to personally make sure Conrad got it and ask him if we could move to online banking like the rest of the world. ”
“Some people like a physical paper trail,” I mumbled, trying not to show myself getting defensive.
“It’s antiquated,” Quentin said. “Slows things down.”
“Like misprinting checks?” I just couldn’t help myself, apparently.
“Like misprinting checks,” he agreed good-naturedly. “Do you like working for him?”
I twisted my lips to the side. “Some times more than others. You know office politics.”
He huffed a bitter laugh. “Believe me, I do.”
That made me even more curious about the internal workings at MyHome, but I had to be careful. What I didn’t know, I wouldn’t be able to pass on to Conrad. Best not to tempt myself when I got into a desperate situation.
“When should I meet your mom?” I asked, cutting myself another piece to eat. I was definitely going to beg Quentin to bring me back here for the French toast, or at least get me my own golden access card.
“Do you have time this evening for supper?” he asked.
“I’ll be there,” I promised. What other choice did I have?
As George drove up to the address Quentin texted me, I felt...
nervous. I shifted in my dress, wondering if the tight gray knit material was appropriate.
Or if his mom was the kind of woman who felt like plus-size women should dress to hide their stomachs, avoiding the acknowledgement of apron bellies at all cost.
George pulled over, idling along the curb in front of a big, colonial-style home with pillars that jutted the building's full two-story height, holding up the overhang casting the porch in shadow.
“Would you like me to come back and pick you up at a specific time?” he asked me.
I shook my head and then realized he wasn’t looking at me in the rearview mirror, but at the impressive home. “No, I’ll ride home with Quentin.”
George gave me a pleased smile in the mirror. “When you asked me to drive to his parents house, I did some digging…”
My lips quirked into a sneaky grin. “You spied for me?”
“Of course I did,” he said like it was no big deal.”
“Well, what did you find out?” I leaned in and whispered even though it was just us in the car.
“Quentin has an excellent reputation at the agency,” George said.
I raised my eyebrows. “He does?”
George nodded. “Drivers have so much gossip it would fill your magazines for years. And trust me, not all people are as pleasant to drive for as you are.”
“You mean they’re not all running on six hours of sleep and caffeine?” I asked jokingly.
“They’re not all as darling,” he said in that southern accent that made me want to pinch his cheeks.
“You’re too good to me, George,” I said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Have a good day.”
“I will,” he promised. Then he reached into the passenger seat and handed me a tall, thin bag.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“For you to give to his momma. Best not show up empty-handed.”
I almost slapped my forehead. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” George said.
I smiled at him. “Thank God for that.” I got out, wine gift bag in hand, and walked up the long sidewalk to the front door. There was a doorbell with a camera on it, so I stood tall, making sure not to do anything embarrassing while I waited for someone to answer.
Eventually, the tall door opened, and Quentin stood in the doorway.
He stepped out with me, shutting the door behind him.
He looked handsome, dressed in dark jeans and a green sweater.
I wished I could read the labels from here, get the feel for designer clothes that looked like they had been made especially for him.
“Are you-are you ready?” he asked me. That’s when I noticed... He looked nervous. He shifted from foot to foot, his hands rubbing together.
I put my hand on his arm to steady him, and he stilled, solid under my palm. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m excited to meet her.”
He looked at me, surprised. “You are?”
“Of course,” I said. “She’s going to be my mother-in-law.” Some idiotic part of me was hoping she’d be a second mom. That maybe she’d care for me the way my mom cared for Eleanor.
Quentin gave me one of his rare smiles, and it was like the sun breaking the horizon on my drive into work. Everything was the same, and yet it changed everything. I found myself lost in his smile until it fell again.
“Let’s get inside,” he said. “It’s cold out here.”
He held the door open for me again and placed his hand on the small of my back as we went inside.
The gentle touch heated every inch of my skin under his large hand until he released me to take my coat.
He held the wine as I slipped off my jacket, taking in the foyer, but when I looked back at him, he was staring.
“It’s the dress, isn’t it?” I asked, fiddling with the hem pulling tight along my thighs just above the knee. “Is there time to go back and change?”
His gaze lowered to my hand and said, “Over my dead body.”
The heated words made my thighs clench. As he turned to hang my coat in a closet, I tried to get my act together. I couldn’t show up to meet his mom swooning over the heat in his voice.
He closed the closet door and turned back, handing me the bottle of wine so I could gift it. As we started out of the foyer, my heels felt loud over the black-and-white checkered floor, muffled only by the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Quentin reached for my hand, twining our fingers together.
How long had it been since I’d held hands? I wondered. And why had I let it go this long?
Holding his hand instantly eased my nerves, gave me a life raft to hold on to as we rounded the corner into a great room that blended into a big, open-concept kitchen with matte-black stone countertops veined with gleaming white slivers.