2 Months 'Til Mrs. (2 'Til Series) Read Free Page B

and
biting.
    “Mom, Dad… this is my fiancé,” he guffawed. “I’d say
that’s a passive aggressive proposal if I ever heard one.”
    “Like you’ve ever heard one,” she barked. Hardly a
pithy comeback.
    “Like I just said, though, I did hear one,” he jabbed
again. “By the way, how long were you dating before you popped the—”
    “It wasn’t a proposal!” she screeched, stopping
everything in the room for a moment and turning all eyes on her. “I wasn’t a proponent
of that proposal ,” she corrected loudly, trying to throw everyone off
her scent.
    When all eyes had finally turned away and the hum of
background conversations began again, she shot him a look to kill. “I said Fynn-ancé ,”
she admitted through gritted teeth, setting the record straight. “An honest
mistake.”
    “Priceless,” he said, a satisfied smile on his lips.
    She should have known it would only be a matter of
time before he would bring the whole humiliating thing up again. But what did
it matter anyhow? She’d done that less than forty-eight hours into their
relationship and Fynn was still with her… or had been with her right up until a
few hours ago—
    “If meeting the parents under those circumstances
didn’t scare him off, I guess he’s around for the long haul, God bless him.”
    She gulped; her stomach a roiling pit of regret.
    “What’s your problem? You sick or something?” he
asked, reaching down with both hands, one on each tray, double-fisting hors
d’oeuvres.
    “Those aren’t your own personal plates you know.” She
gestured at the serving platters he’d demolished, her only defense to act like
he disgusted her completely.
    “What are you going to do about it?” he challenged.
    “Tell Mom,” she threatened, battling back with all the
grace of a five-year-old.
    “Well, I see you two are up to your old tricks.”
    “Dad!” Catherine exclaimed, snuggling into his strong,
warm, and welcoming embrace—the smell of Polo engulfing her like a force field
of protection.
    “You know how perfect your mother likes things to be. Can’t
you guys behave for just a few hours?” he asked, pulling out of the hug and
leveling a “humor her” warning upon each of them.
    Catherine felt properly put in her place.
    “So what do I owe the honor of a visit from my dear
daughter?” William Hemmings asked. “Nobody even told me you were here!”
    “That’s ‘cuz you were in the basement, Pop. Hiding,”
Connor said knowingly.
    They all knew that William Hemmings was entirely antisocial.
A singular homebody to the core, his home was his sanctuary. On occasions when
his wife’s socializing energies overwhelmed the home, William went to the
basement or some other far corner of the house to putz. The scope of tonight’s
events was far beyond anything her mother had hosted in years. If he can
handle this for a night, I can handle this.
    “Is everything okay?” her father asked, ignoring his
son in favor of his daughter.
    “Yeah, it’s fine,” she said quickly.
    “No problems getting here? You know I hate you driving
in the snow.”
    “No problems at all.”
    Lacey came into the room with her porcelain skin and
silky brown hair that was just on this side of black, bringing Niki and that
same stunning but cold exterior she always had. She nodded toward Catherine. “I
could run home to get you something to wear, you know. I wouldn’t mind at all,”
she offered.
    “I’m fine,” Catherine said. It seemed fine was about
the best she could do for her emotional vocabulary this evening.
    “It wouldn’t be any trouble,” she assured her.
    Catherine didn’t really know what to make of the
offer. Lacey was stuffy and stiff and she found her to be absolutely grating. Is
she really trying to be nice or is she just saying that I look like a total
douche?
    “I think you look beautiful, sweetheart,” her father
said, kissing her French twist.
    But of course he’d said the same thing when she wore
the