Page 58 of Beyond the Stroke

At my announcement, three sets of eyes bulge.

“W—what?” his mom stammers.

“Rory, who is this woman?” his dad demands.

Rory’s lips twitch, likely fighting the desire to break out into a huge, conspiratorial grin, except he had no way of knowing I was going to do this because up until ten seconds ago, neither did I. He stands and wraps an arm around my waist. One of those muscular forearms he possesses, and I do my best not to squirmwith giddiness at the contact. It’s a challenge. After all, my body is highly aware that we’ve never touched like this before, but we can’t let them know. It would ruin the fun.

Rory clears his throat. “Mom, Dad. This is Summer.” He beams down at me before turning the same proud smile back on his parents. “Summer Shields, my wife.”

fifteen

. . .

RORY

My wife.

Those two words linger between the five of us.

I’m the one who said them, yet I’m as shocked as everyone else.

Next to me, Summer sways, but the arm I’ve got around her lower back tightens to steady her.

My parents and Daphne gape at us, but beside me, Summer is stunning in her red polo and black skirt. She must have come straight from work. In fact, based on the time, she left work early.

I’m so fucking happy she’s here. I pull her in and press a kiss to her temple.

It’s a simple gesture. Sweet. But one look at my mom’s face, and you’d think I’d lifted Summer onto the table and put my head between her legs.

Another second of silence passes before my mom starts crying.

No, not crying.Sobbing.

“That’s absurd,” my mom wails. “How could you marry someone without telling us?”

“I—” I begin, but my mom cuts me off. Apparently, she’s not interested in the answer.

“Why?!” She covers her face with her napkin, and rocks back and forth. “Why is this happening to me?”

“Is this some kind of a joke?” my dad barks. “Why would you marry someone like…someone like her?”

Summer stiffens beside me. “That’s not very nice. You don’t even know me.”

I’d gotten caught up in the moment with Summer. I’d seen where she was going with her plan. Full commitment. Legally binding. That would be the only thing that could put a stop to my parents’ insistence that me and Daphne were meant to be. But the fallout from that one thrilling moment isn’t good. This is spiraling out of control quickly.

Daphne rushes to my mom’s side. “Mary Ann, you just had a facial, the salt from your tears is going to dry you out.”

“Oh, y-you’re right.” But it only makes her cry harder.

At the tables around us, people start to glance in our direction, whispering.

Once my mom realizes her audience and what kind of scene she’s making with her sobs, she stands and rushes for the door. My father, who also hates a scene, but because they involve showing any kind of emotion at all, stands to follow her.

On his way out, he stops at my side.

“You’ve upset your mother. Now I have to deal with it,” he hisses.

I’m used to doing what they need me to do. And tonight, my mom expected me to sit here and happily converse with my ex-girlfriend, with the plan of us getting back together. So, having a woman they don’t even know announce that we’re married has thoroughly ruined her evening.

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