The car comes to a stop and Zander finally looks at me. “Welcome to the Governor’s mansion,” he muses dryly.
“Crossing ‘go inside a mansion’ off my list,” I joke, using air quotes, hoping that I can garner even just a little bit of a smile from him. The shadow of a grin plays at the corner of his lips and I inwardly tally a point for myself.
The foyer is just as grand as the outside of the house. The entire place oozes political royalty, from its crystal chandeliers to the red carpet runners up the split staircase. There’s pristine white trim, dark, glossy-varnished antiques, rugs that are probably worth more than my car, waxed tile, and wood floors. The place is a mini White House. It’s impressive, but nowhere near comfortable. I feel like I’ve been holding half a breath since we got here. I much prefer the cozy, inviting warmth of Zander’s house over this joint.
“Oh, Alexander, honey, so glad you decided to come,” I hear a female drawl in full-on Steel Magnolias style.
Jesus Christ. Images of a beauty salon full of self-proclaimed Georgia Peaches discussing shades of pink for a wedding comes to mind. I shake the distraction away just in time to see a beautiful, well-groomed older woman practically glide across the wood floor right towards us.
“Sugar,” she coos into Zander’s ear as she takes him into a hug.
He kisses her cheek when she angles her face expectantly. “Mama,” he says in an autopilot sort of greeting.
“Mhmm,” she appraises me, letting her eyes roam freely over my body.
I tense, feeling like a goddamn steer on the auction block. Zander takes my hand and squeezes reassuringly.
“Alexander, honey, are you going to introduce this young lady to your mama or should I do it myself?” She chuckles halfheartedly.
“Mama, this is Sadie Parker. Sadie this is my mother, Virginia McBride.”
Mrs. McBride scoffs as she reaches forward, hugging me lightly. “Mother. You know I positively loathe when you call me Mother.”
“Sorry, Mama,” Zander corrects himself right on cue. I can practically see the eggshells that he’s walking on in this place and it makes me sad and overly protective of him. When a person comes home, they should feel like they are at home. Poor Zander is standing here in the main foyer of this mansion being scolded by his uber-conservative mother about which title he should use to refer to her.
“Well, darlin’, your father is in his office. He’s expectin’ you. Go on in. I’ll have someone bring in some iced tea,” she says, gliding away from us with her hand sort of flicking through the air like she’s forgotten the name of something.
Zander sighs heavily then ushers me toward the Governor’s office, I presume.
“Wait. Wait. Should I—I mean, maybe I should wait in the other room or something,” I offer feebly, working at avoidance.
“Do you want to meet him now?” Zander asks calmly.
“I—well, maybe later tonight when there are a lot of other people around,” I explain.
“Okay.” Zander leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Sit tight. Don’t go anywhere. This won’t take me long,” he instructs, directing me to sit in a fancy chenille upholstered chair that’s resting against the wall with one other chair exactly like it.
I take the opportunity to call Mom and bring her up to speed. She’s going to faint. The phone rings twice before she picks up.
“Hey, stranger! Are you home now? Dad wanted to get over there today to change your air conditioner filter before the heat of summer sneaks up,” she jabbers on in her typical fashion.
“Mom. Mom. Mom!”
“What?” she squeaks.
“Yes, I’m back in Atlanta but I’m—shit.” I pace in small circles. I don’t know how to even begin to explain.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you in trouble?” Worry fills her voice.
“No. Nothing like that. Um, listen, you wanna swing by my house in about an hour?” Maybe talking to them in person is the best choice. There’s no real way to wimp out then.
“Yeah, we can do that,” she answers with a sigh, though I know she’s on high alert. This is the first time I’ve really initiated what appears to be an important conversation. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Promise. See you in a bit.”
“Okay. Bye.”
I end the call and turn, coming face to face with Zander, who’s watching me with a pensive look in his eyes.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he counters.
“Do we have time for me to stop by my house?” I ask.
Surprise flits across his face. He looks down at his watch and nods. “Yeah. Can’t be too long, though. You have an appointment with Anthony, the staff stylist, in a while. He’s going to come to the hotel to help you get ready for tonight and all that.”
“We have a hotel reservation?”
“Yes. Did you think I was going to sleep without you after the last couple nights?” Lust fills his low voice, making my center churn deliciously.