Page 29 of Love You, Mean It

“I’ll hold you to that, Samantha.”

She opened the door, mouthingGood luckbefore heading out into the cold night.

Back in the main room, Theo was bent over the bar cart, two glasses in hand. He quirked an eyebrow, crystal tumblers raised in query, and I nodded fiercely, the desperation hopefully nottooobvious on my face. Lips twisting in amusement, he cleared his throat, busying himself with the ice bucket as he spoke.

“What was Sam here about?”

“Possibilities,” Ted said, swirling the liquid in his glass and taking a long sip, eyes boring into me in an unapologetically assessing glare. “I’m guessing we’ll be seeing alotmore of her around here. But I’ll let her share the details when she’s ready.”

Theo rolled his eyes at the bourbon but said nothing. When the silence started to crawl around the back of my neck I coughed.

“It’s so nice of you to have us over for dinner.”

“It’s the least I could do if you’rereallygoing to marry my son.” He stared at me a few seconds longer, then, without moving an inch from his recumbent position, extended his hand languidly. “Ted Taylor, by the way. But I’m guessing you knew that.”

I gritted my teeth as I crossed the room to take it. One of the more dickish power moves, that.

“Elle, isn’t it?” he said, squeezing my hand in an almost-bone-crusher.

“Ellie, actually. Ellie Greco.” I tried to force a happy expression as I endured the handshake. “Nice to finally meet you, Ted.”

“It’s hardlyfinally. Didn’t the two of you only meet a few months ago?”

“Well…yes. But now that we’re engaged…it seemed important.”

He raised an eyebrow in what could have been mild amusement or tightly controlled annoyance. Now that I was really looking, the resemblance to Theo was startling, as though someone had slotted him into one of those digital aging programs police departments used (all thisandthe Taylors get to age that well? Unfair). They shared the same strong jawline and brow, the same trim, athletic frame, and the shape of Ted’s mouth, though more sharply drawn, with a hint of coldness in its twist, was reminiscent of the curves of Theo’s annoyingly attractive lips. You could even tell that Ted’s hair, lightly salted now, had once been the same brownish-blond as Theo’s. But Ted’s eyes—a flat brown bordering on black, their narrowed gaze calculating to a degree that felt almost predatory—couldn’t have been more different. I had a sense that no matter how slickly pleasant Ted’s expression, they never sparked with warmth.

“Usually I’d ask guests to join us for the cocktail hour, but it’s nearly time for dinner.” Ted’s eyes flicked to the hefty gold band on his wrist that I’m sure he referred to as a “timepiece.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize—” I started.

“I told you we couldn’t be here until seven, Ted.” Theo handed me my bourbon before slipping an arm around my waist. Somehow I managed not to startle at the warmth of it, apparent even through my velvet dress and thick winter tights. “I wasn’t going to ask Ellie to close her shop early.”

“Yes,shopscan be demanding. In any case, we should head in. I’m sure Betsy’s waiting on us.”

He rose and, without a backward glance, strode through the double doors at the back of the room, Marta clicking along just behind him—she clearly wasn’t slowed down byherstrappy stilettos. Ted and Marta turned left, and Theo guided me after them with a hand at the small of my back, bending to whisper as we passed a gigantic marble-everything bathroom.

“You’re doing great, we knew he’d be…prickly. Just remember the rules.”

Instead of responding, I gulped down some bourbon just before we turned in to another expansive room, the walls covered in an elaborate navy-based flowers-and-vines wallpaper. A weighty dining table dominated the space, long enough to easily seat twelve. A gigantic gold chandelier sparkled over the center, an upside-down wedding cake hung with hundreds of teardrop crystals.

Ted seated himself at the head, and Marta was waiting behind the chair at the opposite end. Theo dropped his hand from my back, flashed me a single determined grimace, then moved to the left side of the table, leaving me to slide into the seat opposite. Ted barked out a laugh.

“I like to wait for the hostess to sit. But I suppose that’s noteveryone’scustom.”

“Oh…sorry, my family’s pretty informal.”

“You don’t say?”

I stared at him wide-eyed, then at Theo, who simply shook his head once as everyone else sat in quick succession.

We waited in awkward silence as the housekeeper, Betsy, poured water and wine, then served wedge salads studded with Roquefort and bacon. As she set mine in front of me, I turned to catch her eye.

“Thank you.”

She frowned, then nodded once and retreated rapidly. Apparently we didn’t talk to the “staff.”

“You have such a lovely home,” I ventured as I sliced into the lettuce, a lava flow of bleu cheese dressing oozing over it.

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