Matty arched a brow, lips twitching. “She’s barely a hundred and twenty pounds. What’s she going to do, Hudson? Eat you alive?”
I stuck out my tongue before I could stop myself. “Says the man who’s scared of a three-year-old’s fake tears. You’re carrying her when she has two functioning legs.” I nodded at Ivy, who was content as a queen on his hip.
“She likes being carried,” Matty said defensively. “Plus, it means we get to walk faster.”
“You’re spoiling her,” I shot back, though the fondness leaked into my tone. “What are you gonna do next? Get her a pony?”
“Well… when she’s older, yeah.”
I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “Unbelievable.”
“Stop worrying,” Matty murmured, leaning close enough that only I could hear. He brushed my cheek in a kiss that steadied me more than I wanted to admit. “It’s going to be fine.”
Ivy wiggled in his arms, her little sling snug across her shoulder, and parroted, “It’s gonna be fine, Daddy.”
God help me, I melted right there. I blew out a breath. “All right. Fine. If you both say so, then I suppose you’re right.”
We reached the elevator, and the doors opened silently. My chest tightened the higher we went, floor numbers ticking upward like a countdown. The past two weeks had been a whirlwind, what with preparing for the wedding, and I’d spoken a few times to Emma, but never in person.What if, when she saw me, she remembered how unsuitable I was for her son?
The doors slid open straight into a plush hallway lined with framed art. My palms went damp.
Matty strode ahead, confident as ever, while I followed like a man on his way to his own execution. Maybe I should have talked him out of driving all the way to Denver so we could get some things we needed for our wedding. Surely wedding suits weren’t all that necessary for a wedding? And between me and him, Gray and Ozzie, we could figure out a flower girl’s dress for Ivy. We didn’t need Emma for all that. Except Matty said his mother had flair, and I knew he was right. She would ensure Ivy looked the best for the wedding.
At the end of the hall, Matty stopped in front of a wide, white door with a brass number plate. He shifted Ivy to his other hip and pressed the doorbell.
Footsteps approached from the other side, light, brisk, like someone had been waiting just inside the door. The knob turned, and Emma appeared.
She looked as perfectly put together as the first time I’d met her, like she’d been born knowing how to belong in places like this. The woman wore silk the way most people wore jeans—effortlessly, like it was stitched right into her skin. Pearls at her throat, lipstick neat, not a strand of blond hair out of place. Her perfume drifted into the hall, subtle but sharp.
Her eyes went straight to her son, softening as she reached out. “Matty,” she said warmly, leaning in to kiss both his cheeks. Then her gaze dropped to the bundle in his arms, and her smile brightened by a thousand watts. “And Ivy, sweetheart. Oh, you darling girl.” She touched Ivy’s cast with a featherlight hand. “I’ve been looking forward to our day together all week.”
Matty kissed her cheek back, easy, comfortable. “Thanks for agreeing to take her shopping, Mom. She hasn’t stopped talking about a flower girl dress.”
Ivy ducked shyly into his shoulder, then peeked out to whisper, “I’m going to be a fower girl at the wedding.”
Emma laughed softly. “Yes, and we’re going to get you the prettiest dress in the whole store.”
Her gaze flicked to me. Cool, assessing, like she was taking my measure without saying a word. For half a second, I thought about bolting back into the elevator.
“Hudson,” she said finally. Polite. Even.
“Ma’am,” I answered, my throat dry.
Matty shot me a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting back a grin. He knew damn well how nervous I was.
Emma stepped back, gesturing with a graceful sweep of her hand. “Well, don’t just stand out there in the hall. Come in.”
Matty breezed through the doorway like he owned the place while I hovered a second before following, trying not to scuff the marble with my boots. The hall opened into a wide sitting room that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread: pale furniture, glass-topped tables, a view of the city skyline stretched across the wall of windows. I tried not to gape.
Emma guided us toward the couch, her hand light at Matty’s elbow, the way mothers do when they’re proud of their sons. She motioned for us to sit. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
Matty sat easily, Ivy perched on his lap, her arm tucked close. I lowered myself onto the edge of the couch cushion, feeling like a bull that might knock over a vase just by breathing too hard.
Emma’s eyes softened as she looked at Ivy again. “She really is a darling. And so beautiful.”
Matty tickled Ivy’s side until she giggled and pressed into him. “She’s been buzzing all week for this shopping trip.”
“Good. She should be excited.” Emma smoothed her skirt and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Every girl deserves to feel like a princess at least once in her life.”
