Page 109 of The Price of Scandal
Daniella gave a regal nod and lifted her glass in my direction. “I trust my son’s judgment. Dating or not, you’re welcome here.”
“You wouldn’t want to meet my mother and walk her through that hands-off approach to her children’s relationships, would you?” I asked.
* * *
Somewhere into mysecond glass of wine, I realized my intestines had given up their empty threats. Now, it was my stomach growling as the smell of grilling hamburgers wafted over the patio.
Derek wandered over while his mother was admiring my haircut.
“Like my handiwork, Mom?” he asked.
“Always,” Daniella said, turning her cheek up to her husband, Michael, as he delivered a kiss and a platter of freshly grilled burgers.
“How has this haircut not broken the internet yet?” Liz asked, handing off a toddler to her husband.
“I haven’t been anywhere but brunch and the lab,” I admitted.
“Derek, give me your phone,” Tanya said, holding out her hand.
He obliged.
“Over by the hedgerow,” Tanya pointed decisively. “You too, brother dearest.”
“Why me?” Derek asked.
“A platonic pose. Something that doesn’t confirm or deny your little ‘are they, aren’t they’ fun,” she decided.
Liz and Verita, with Tanya’s directorial commands, arranged us against the wall of greenery, drinks in hand.
“Is this how all your family cookouts go?” I asked as Verita fluffed my hair.
“With a hairdresser, a cop, a model, and forty-seven kids and dogs, you’d be surprised,” she quipped.
“Okay, look at each other and smile like you have a dirty, dirty secret,” Tanya called.
35
Derek
“Home?” I asked Emily over the rumble of the Porsche as we waved goodbye to my family.
“I’d like to seeyourhome,” she decided smugly.
“You would, would you?” I did a mental inventory of the state of my condo. The cleaning service had been there yesterday, which minimized the possibility of her facing anything unsavory like week-old takeout containers or six loads of dry cleaning draped over the couch.
“It’s your fault, Price. You introduced me to your family, and now I’m penning an engagement announcement in my head,” she teased. “I’ve seen your office, and now I need to find out what secrets you’re hiding at home before this gets more serious.”
I steered the Porsche in the direction of my building downtown. “Fine, but I’m taking you to my condo, not my creepy dungeon lair. You can see the creepy dungeon lair after the wedding.”
“Baby steps,” she said.
We made the drive to my place in comfortable silence. It was a glossy high-rise in Miami’s skyline. A little soulless, but the proximity to my office and most everything downtown was convenient.
I parked the car in the garage and led her to the elevator, a guiding hand at the small of her back. I’d only recently discovered just how much I enjoyed touching Emily and had no plans to slow down there.
“Floor?” she asked, her finger hovering over the buttons.
I told her, and she stabbed it triumphantly.
