Rose sucks in a sharp breath and frantically taps the back of my shoulder where her hand is resting. I get theput me downmessage loud and clear.
I dip her toward the ground, and she slides out of my arms. I miss the closeness immediately, but I clear my throat and stand to my full height. I will make this a good first meeting between these two women, no matter what it takes.
“Mother. Welcome.” I take three steps forward and meet her as she descends the stairs and comes to a stop right in front of me.
She leans in, and I give her an air kiss on each cheek. It’s formal, and I cringe. After my dad passed, it was as if my mom shut off the part of her brain that controlled her affection.
I turn and beckon Rose forward.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet Rose, my girlfriend.” The wordgirlfriendseems so insignificant for what Rose is to me. Confidant. Friend. Teammate.Love of my life. But I can’t say any of those things. Not yet. I smile down at Rose before flicking my gaze to my mom, saying a silent prayer that she’ll play nice.
My mother’s left eye twitches slightly as she assesses us. I wouldn’t think anything of it, except I’ve read countless articles in the Penwick media, and all the talking heads are convinced that’s my mother’s tell. Her eye twitches when she’s holding back or when she has something on her mind that she’s not saying.
Before I can dwell on what that might mean, Rose takes a step forward and thrusts out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”
My mom takes the proffered hand and gives it a lackluster squeeze.
Rose rolls her lips into her mouth in a moment of uncertainty before masking it with a smile. “I’m sorry we weren’t around to greet you properly.”
My mom waves her arm dismissively. “It’s my own fault for popping in unannounced. Though, in my defense, even if I would have tried to contact this one”—she gestures to me—“to let him know I was coming to the States, the chances of him responding to me would be slim to none.”
She’s not wrong. I’m a busy guy, yeah. But I also tend to avoid my mom’s communications like they’re a contagious virus, and I’m trying not to get sick.
“I know the feeling. Anton will leave me onreadsometimes too. I have to resort to calling him…like some sort of heathen.“ Rose chuckles and squeezes my side to let me know she’s joking.
“That wasonetime,“ I argue, grateful to her for lightening the mood and getting me out of having to respond to my mom’s critique.
Truthfully, I kind of like when she calls me. Texting is great and all, but I’ll take any chance I can get to hear her voice.
“Anyway,” Rose says, smiling up at me. “We’re sort of a mess. We were out at the beach.”
“I can see that.” My mom looks down her nose at us, and I can imagine what she’s thinking.I let my royal son live abroad, and all sense of decorum flies out the window.
She snaps her gaze from my sand-covered legs to my eyes. “Anton, why don’t you get cleaned up first and let us ladies have a little chat. Then, while Rose is getting ready, we can get some plans together for a suitable dinner.”
I open my mouth to respond, not wanting to subject Rose to any one-on-one time with my mom unless it’s absolutely necessary, but I catch Rose’s eye, and she gives me an encouraging nod.
“Okay,” I agree. I place a quick kiss on Rose’s temple and bound up the stairs and inside.
I manage to get myself together in less than ten minutes. I pause at the door to the porch, observing the two women for a moment before making my presence known.
Rose and my mom have moved to the set of chairs I have in the far corner of the fenced-in porch. They have their heads together and appear to be in deep conversation. My mother has her back to me, and she seems to be doing most of the talking. Rose is facing the door, so I can see her nodding. Her brow is furrowed like she’s putting a lot of thought into whatever my mother is telling her.
Hopefully not anything that’ll scare her off.
I push open the door, and my mom glances over her shoulder. “Ah, Anton. Good. You’re back.”
“How’s it going?” I stand near Rose’s shoulder, placing a hand on her upper back in a show of support.
“Good, good. Rose was telling me she’s a cheerleader.” My mom glances at Rose and then up at me again. “How positively charming.”
I stiffen at the condescension that’s laced in her compliment. If I can hear it, I’m sure Rose can. I feel her tense under my hand, and I want to come to her defense, but I don’t know how to call my mom out for her arrogance without opening up a whole can of worms about Rose’s status and mine. I don’t really want to have that conversation now, so instead, I do the half-baked thing and say, “Did she tell you she’s a writer, as well?”
“A woman of many talents, no doubt.” My mom’s eye twitches again.
Rose places her hand over mine and squeezes. “I’ll give you two a chance to catch up.”
She smiles at me, and it looks genuine. I exhale a small sigh of relief as she heads inside. Rose can handle herself. I don’t doubt that. And she’s strong enough to handle my mother.
