Page 99 of Things We Fake
“There she is!” She rose gracefully from her chair, crossing the room in fluid steps, arms wide open.
I felt Sue brace for impact.
“Susanne.” Her mother pulled her into a tight, motherly hug, firm enough to let her know she still micromanaged her life. “You look gorgeous.”
She drew back, cupping Sue’s face between her hands and scanning her, as if checking for flaws in her expensive china set.
Then her eyes flicked to me, and—God help me—they sparkled.
She turned her full attention to me.
“Cameron,” she practically purred, clasping my hands in hers. “Even more handsome in person.”
I gave her my most charming smile. “Mrs. Morelli, it’s a pleasure.”
Sue’s mother giggled. I was used to having a positive effect on women most of the time, but her reaction surprised me. Judging by Sue’s expression, she’d never heard her mom make that sound in her life.
Sue hastily introduced everyone, then her father stood, more serious than a mafia boss in an old black-and-white film. He adjusted the cuffs of his navy suit, his dark eyes taking me in with quiet scrutiny.
He reached out a hand. I took it, matching his firm grip, meeting his gaze straight-on.
“Cameron.” His tone was serious, his spine straightened to its full height as he emphasized the ‘a’ in my name. “The man who put a ring on mybambina’sfinger.”
I nodded. It wasn’t easy to keep my cool, but somehow I did. For Sue.
“Yes, sir,” I said firmly. “Best decision I ever made.”
Sue’s dad held my gaze. “We will see.”
Paul snorted into his wine glass. “Oh yeah, this is going to be good.”
Michelle nudged him. “Behave.”
Mom stepped forward next, extending a warm hand to Sue’s mother.
“Helen Jones. And this is my daughter, Becky.”
“Oh, it’s wonderful to meet you both,” Sue’s mother said. “Helen, you raised an incredible son.”
Mom smiled serenely. “And you raised an incredible daughter.”
Beside me, Becky whispered, “I love her.”
We all took our seats, and Sue threw one last desperate glance at me, just as her dad called over the waiter.
“Wine,” he said. “We will start with wine.”
Sue and I exchanged a look. It had begun.
Chapter Thirty
Sue
The waiter nodded and disappeared toward the wine cellar. Meanwhile, my father leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Cam the way a sommelier assessed a questionable bottle of wine, deciding if it was worth uncorking or throwing down the drain.
To his credit, Cam radiated calm. I was stuck between envy and admiration. My heart was beating harder than a hamster’s, and the evening was just starting.
“So, Cameron.” My father sipped the remainder of his pre-dinner wine. “Tell me, what is your preferred varietal?”
