Page 156 of The Wife Situation

“Mmm,” he says with approval as two men in suits open the door for us.

As soon as Easton enters the dimly lit room, the woman at the door leads us into the dining area with crisp tablecloths and long, lit candles. I keep my eyes forward as Easton glides across the room like he owns the place.

He glances over at me and smiles, and I return the gesture. We’re led to a table where his family is sitting. Weston stands when he sees me, giving me a smile and a bow.

“Lexi,” he says, taking my hand and kissing it. “So lovely to see you again.”

I hold back a laugh because I saw him eight hours ago, when we landed.

Easton pulls out my chair, and once I’m settled, he sits beside me. His strong hand is on my thigh, and I enjoy the dominance of it.

A waiter immediately steps forward, filling our glasses with water and pouring a quarter of a glass of white wine.

“Hello all,” Easton says. “Thank you for joining me tonight.”

“You’re late,” his mother interrupts, giving me Meryl Streep vibes. But she’s gorgeous, with white-blonde hair.

Every person sitting at this table is beautiful. Easton and Weston are the perfect combination of their parents.

I glance at Easton and he smirks. “I got tied up,” he says.

The reality is, he bent me over the bed before we left the diamond in the sky. I had no idea we were late, and he didn’t mention it.

“Anyway, I’m thrilled to introduce you to Lexi Matthews, my fiancée, the love of my life,” he announces, then goes around the table, giving me introductions.

I smile and nod.

“This is my mother and her husband, Ralph.”

Weston snickers.

“Actually, I’m Scott,” he says.

Easton’s lips slightly part, but he quickly recovers. “Scott, yes. Apologies. This is my father, Frederick, and his wife, Katrina.”

“Hi,” I say.

“And, of course, you know Billie. And Weston.”

His sister leans forward and gives me a wink. “Great to see you again, Alexis ‘Lexi’ Matthews.”

“You too,” I tell her with a smile.

“And what day are we on?” she asks.

“Seventeen,” I whisper, glancing at Easton.

His mouth quirks upward, but he tries to keep his badass public persona in check. I know better though. The man is a softy—at least when it comes to me.

“I hope he gave you a trophy,” she whispers.

“He did,” I say, showing her the ring.

A grin spreads into a wide smile. “Grandmother’s diamond?”

The table grows quiet.

“Yes,” Easton says. “You all seemsurprised.”

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