I shouldn’t be surprised Figgy’s breaking out the possessive behavior, but I didn’t think she’d lay it on this thick so quickly. Thankfully, Stella’s unbothered by the woman clinging to me like a koala, smiling fondly at us both.
“I bet you have such good stories about this guy,” she says, smile shifting into a conspiratorial smirk, like they’re already best friends. “Could we maybe sit and chat over a mimosa? I’m going to needallthe dirt on him, and you’re the best source.”
My attention ping-pongs between the women, not missing the way Figgy’s expression flickers with confusion for a moment before she’s back to cheery. Stella’s offer has clearly taken her aback, not having expected such an affable proposal.
“Oh, I’d love to,” Figgy says, though I can sense thebutcoming. “But I only popped round to drop my things for the week. I’m actually off for a facial in town with thebestaesthetician. If you want me to book you an appointment, I absolutely can. Those long-haul flights make you look so rough.”
The sly insult has my eyes flaring wide. Stella could call her out on it, but Figgy phrased it in such a way that she could laugh it off and say she included herself in thatyou, the world traveler that she is, and then Stella would come out as the loser in that battle.
“I might actually take you up on that,” Stella says, much to my surprise. I doubt she missed the slight, but she’s so perfectly composed that I can’t be sure. “I could use a self-care day. Thomas has kept me so busy lately, what with following him around the world, that I’ve barely had a moment to myself.” At that, she shoots me a wink, and it’s oh so clear she has the upper hand. “But I can’t complain.”
Again, Figgy’s expression wavers, this time with what I swear is outrage, but then she’s laughing. To her credit, it doesn’t even sound forced. “I bet not.” With that, she detaches herself from me and tosses her hair over her shoulder before giving us a little finger wave. “See you!”
Stella waves back, but I can’t do much more than watch her stride toward the doors.
“Oh, she’sfun,” Stella says brightly when Figgy’s gone. “I won’t go so far as to say she hates me, but we certainly aren’t going to be friends.”
It takes a few more beats before I get my wits about me, wincing when I realize I left her to fend completely for herself. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea she was going to be here. No one told me.”
Stella waves off my apology. “It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting to meet her before your family, but I knew it would happen eventually. Like I said, better to get it out of the way.”
“You’re stronger than me.” I search her face for any signs of distress or discomfort. I find nothing, though that doesn’t mean she’s not feeling either. “But are you sure you’re okay? You’ve had a lot thrown at you in the past twenty-four hours, with more to come.”
“Thomas.” She catches my gaze, forcing me to hold it. “I’m fine. But if I need a break, I’ll tell you, okay?”
“Okay.” It won’t stop me from checking in on her, but I’ll acquiesce for now. “So do you think we’ll be able to fool Figgy into thinking we’re the real deal?”
“Oh, honey, she’s already on the defensive.” Stella grins and pats my cheek. “That’s a good start, though I don’t think she’s going to let go of you easily.”
I knew that was going to be the case, but I hoped Stellamight have a different read on things. My mind whirls, contemplating more ways we can convince Figgy it’s time to let me go. This will all be for nothing if we can’t.
As if she can tell I’m getting lost in my head, Stella grabs my hand and tugs me toward one of the archways. “Now that we’re alone…how about that tour you promised me? I’d love to see how the point-zero-zero-one percent lives.”
After taking Stella on a tour that left her out of breath and swearing to add more cardio to her fitness routine, we’ve retreated to our separate bedrooms to settle in and rest.
She seemed relieved when I told her we wouldn’t have to share a room, and I know no one will make a fuss about us staying apart for two reasons. One, because propriety suggests that we have our own bedrooms until my parents officially approve of our union. And two, because nearly every couple in this family sleeps apart since they can’t stand their spouse.
Unfortunately, Stella and I are down the hall from each other, since Figgy already claimed her usual room next to mine.
“Do you need anything?” I double-checked before we went our separate ways. Mostly, it was to buy more time with her.
“I’mfine,” she reassured. “And thank you for everything you’ve done so far. I can’t believe you stocked your house with all of my favorites.”
I told her it wasn’t a problem, because it wasn’t. All it took was a couple of phone calls to her people, and then I relayed messages to my own. But what I really wanted to say wasWhy wouldn’t I do it?It’s merely good hosting etiquette. (Thank you for that lesson, Mum.) And besides, is it so bad that I likeddoing it for her? That I like watching the way her face lights up, even if she doesn’t realize it, at every detail she notices? That alone would make me want to give her everything.
In the few hours we’ve been apart, I’ve been busy thinking of more things I can do to keep her happy while she’s in the UK with me. The list so far is typed haphazardly in my phone’s notes app, consisting of things likehire estate agent to find suitable property for a London Stella Margaux’s locationandkeep house stocked with almond flour. It’s a work in progress.
I’m about to write down another idea when a text from Geneva appears. It’s a quick message to let me know she and the rest of the family will be arriving in time for dinner, followed up byAnd I mean the whole family. Edith’s bringing her entire brood and Andrew’s trotting out his wife. If she goes into labor here, I am NOT sticking around.
It’s time to warn Stella, then. Poor thing is going to have to face everyone tonight, and I have to pray she’s ready for it. That we both are.
She calls for me to come in when I knock on her shut door, but I stop in my tracks after taking one step inside.
She’s lying on her stomach across the bed in just a towel that barely clears the generous curve of her ass. Her long legs glow and glisten, bent at the knee and crossed at the ankle, feet in the air. Her laptop is open in front of her, a half-typed email on the screen, but I’m certainly not interested in what she’s been writing.
Fuck, this woman is sexier than sin. And I’m somehow expected to keep my hands off her.
“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, drawing my gaze up from her legs to take in her crooked smile. “I know I said I was taking the week off, but I seem to have slipped and fallen into myinbox. I did have a bath in that fantastic tub, though. Couldn’t resist.”
