by Cora Kenborn
Every word of what I said was true, but I wanted to take it all back when I saw the look of shame cross Savannah’s face.
I divided my attention between the road and the woman who’d become the most important person in my life. “Babe, you need to know that if push came to shove, I’d pick you every single time.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched her wipe at her cheeks. “Promise?” she sniffled.
Catching her hand in mine, I brought it to my lips and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. “Promise.”
The heels of Savannah’s cowboy boots clicked against the marble floor as we made our way across the lobby of the hotel and toward the elevators that would take us up to the ballroom. The city spared no expense for the occasion. A check-in desk sat directly in front of the elevators as we stepped off. Behind the desk sat a small woman with blonde hair whose eyes lit up when she saw us.
“I was wondering if I was going to see your handsome face this evening. This must be Savannah.” She clapped her hands giddily and rounded the table to engulf us both in a warm hug.
“Good to see you, Jamie,” I murmured, returning her hug. Jamie worked at the station as a dispatcher, and even though she was only about ten years older than me, she had a warmth about her that made her seem like everybody's favorite aunt. She was one of the first friends I made when I moved back to New Orleans. She was a saint who sat and listened as I droned on for hours about Savannah Dubois, the girl from Terrebonne I couldn’t get off my mind.
She gave Savannah a kiss on the cheek before releasing us and clapping her hands together once. If she weren’t one of my favorite people on the planet, I would’ve made fun of her for impersonating a seal. Rounding the table, she scanned her clipboard. “Now let me get you your seat assignments. Oh yes, you’re with Mr. Fancy Pants at table three.”
I immediately knew who she was talking about. Unlike most people, she was unimpressed with my father.
I pressed my lips between my teeth before forcing out the question I didn’t want the answer to. “Has my father arrived yet?”
Jamie rolled her eyes and gave me a look that said, boy has he ever. “The senator came in with a full security detail not ten minutes ago.”
Lovely. He was already playing up his status, which meant it was going to be a long night.
“I honestly don’t know why he felt the need to bring his own security when he’s in a room full of cops, but to each his own.” Jamie smiled and handed over our place cards that told us where to sit.
We thanked her, and I guided Savannah into the expansive ballroom where we were pulled aside by a photographer wanting a few shots. Once he finished, we made our way further into the room to find our seats.
Immediately, I spotted my mother and father sitting at the round table accompanied by Captain Beaufort and his wife and Sargent Miller from my district and his wife. The only two empty spots were between my father and the captain.
Fucking fantastic.
While our pit stop in the bathroom at Savannah’s house caused us to only be about ten minutes late, to my father, we might as well have skipped the event altogether. I felt my shoulders tighten with each step that brought us closer. Sensing my trepidation, Savannah rubbed small circles on my back. Forcing my practiced, plastic smile to remain on my face as we reached them, I gritted my teeth as both my parents stood to greet us.
“Hey, Mama,” I said, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. When I stood up, I locked eyes with my father and gave him a curt nod. “I’d like you guys to meet Savannah,” I said, putting my arm around my gorgeous girlfriend. My glare dared my father to say something. After our conversation in the car, I itched to tell him off.
I rested my hand on her lower back as she took a step forward to shake my mother’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, smiling politely. Next, she extended her hand to my father who looked her up and down quizzically, his lips pursing in a disapproving fashion as his eyes fell on the neckline of her dress. Finally, he took her hand and she added, “Senator, it’s an honor to meet you.”
In a flash, my father’s political mask slipped over his face, and an incredibly fake smile stretched his lips. “The pleasure is mine, young lady,” he drawled, his accent thicker than usual and dripping with false Southern charm.
We exchanged hellos with the others at the table before finally taking our seats. I placed myself between my father and Savannah to provide as much of a buffer zone as possible. I knew my father would have no choice but to be cordial in the presence of the others, but it didn’t stop me from being apprehensive about what would happen should we be left alone.
The dinner proceeded pleasantly enough. Instead of playing interference as I’d anticipated, I ended up sitting back and watching as Savannah charmed everyone at the table. Everyone except my father, of course.
“So, Miss Dubois, what is it you do?” My father asked suddenly, apparently done being ignored.
“A little of this and a little of that. I work in the office at my family’s fishing company and manage their online presence. However, I just started a new online business selling handcrafted jewelry and bath products.”
My mother perked up as she always did at the mention of anything artistic. “How long have you been making jewelry?”
Savannah leaned forward, finally latching onto a common interest with the woman who’d spent the majority of dinner in silence. “Since college. I used to sell my stuff at fairs and farmers markets, but my sister convinced me to branch out online. I just started incorporating bath products into my online store. It’s been a blast.”
My father cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the table. “Has your business proved profitable?”
Tap, tap, tap.
Savannah’s short nails rapped on the table like a ticking time bomb.
“Which one? I’m part owner in my family’s fishing company, and we’ve seen a fifteen percent increase in revenue in the past six months since my sister and I took over. As for my online store, I’ve only been open for a month or so, but I’ve fulfilled over a hundred orders so far. So, to answer your question, Mr. Pope, yes, I do believe my business ventures have proven profitable. Of course, that’s why I do it. I’m more worried about enjoying life than the size of my pocketbook.” She kept her tone steady and polite, but I saw the storm brewing behind her eyes.
“You seem to be quite…carefree.”
“I don’t know that I’m carefree,” Savannah replied, smiling sweetly at him. “My philosophy on life is that you can’t take things too seriously, especially not yourself. Otherwise, there’s no time to enjoy what’s around you.”
“Sounds like the philosophy of somebody who hasn’t figured out who they are yet.”
Ever quick on her feet, Savannah plucked her champagne glass from the table and cocked an eyebrow at my father. “That sounds like the response of the man who forgot what really matters in life.”
The laughter of our tablemates cut through the mounting tension. Even when she was handing my father’s ass to him, she was charming. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
A slight pause after the laughter subsided came dangerously close to being awkward, but my mother, ever the hostess, jumped in to save us all. “I’d love to see some of your pieces. You look like you’d have a unique style.”
Savannah beamed. “Thank you. I’ve definitely got eclectic tastes.”
“You said you went to college. Where might I ask?” My father interrupted. It was as if he thought the basic rules of conversation etiquette only applied when speaking with someone who’s net worth was on par with his own.
I watched as Savannah quite literally bit her tongue, withholding a verbal bitchslap of epic proportions. “I went to a small liberal arts college in California,” she said with a tight smile before turning her attention back to my mother. But Senator Pope wasn’t done with her yet—not by a long shot.
“Did you finish?”
Savannah’s eye actua
lly twitched. If the captain and sargent weren’t sitting at the table listening to this garbage, I would’ve lost it. However, since they were, I had no choice but to reel it in. My eyes flicked across the rest of our tablemates’ faces. Captain Beaufort looked like he wanted throat punch him, while his wife’s eyes ping-ponged between my father and Savannah as if she sat in the front row of a UFC title fight.
“Yes, sir. I graduated with a degree in Art History, after which I traveled the country before settling back home in Louisiana where I was born and raised. My family is from Terrebonne Parish, a place where my parents and grandmother still live, and I visit often. My sister and I live together in a small shotgun house just outside of the French Quarter. Does that satisfy your curiosity, or would you like me to write down my social security number so you can continue your investigation?”
I was half tempted to bow at her feet.
“Now young lady, there’s no reason to get nasty.”
I opened my mouth to lay into my father when Savannah dropped the reins and let loose. “Senator, I think it’s fairly clear to everyone sitting at this table that you’re the one out of line. I’d hope someone of your public stature would have a bit more couth when at an affair such as this. Now, I understand I’m dating your son, and you have a healthy curiosity about me, but maybe you could lose the condescending attitude next time before you interrogate me. Embarrassing yourself in public doesn’t really go with your image, sir.” Savannah stood and smiled, squeezing my shoulder to let me know she was okay. “If you'll excuse me, I need to go powder my nose.”
I watched from the corner of my eye as she disappeared into the crowd before turning to my father. “What the hell was that?” I growled.
Ignoring my question, my father folded his hands in his lap and narrowed his eyes. “We can discuss your date’s inappropriate behavior another time.”
I stood slowly from the table, letting my six-foot-three frame cast a shadow over him. “The only inappropriate one tonight was you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my girlfriend to make sure my father’s piss poor manners didn’t cost me the love of my life.”
36
Switzerland
Zephirin
Terrebone Parish, Louisiana
Addie swallowed hard and stared over the dashboard as if she were in her own little world. “She’s really serving okra?”
She didn’t look good. An admission like that carried a lot of weight because Addie could crawl through the depths of hell and still look like a model. However, as she blew a labored breath between her thinned lips, I noticed a paleness to her cheeks and a light layer of sweat beading across her forehead.
“Is that a problem?” I asked, pulling into Ma’s driveway for our usual Sunday dinner.
“No.” She glanced down at her clasped hands and shook her head while offering me a forced smile. “I—I love okra. It’s just that… It’s delicious.”
I’d heard of the “deer caught in the headlights look”, but when I took Addie’s hand and helped her out of my truck, I met with an expression that looked more like a hillbilly at a debutante ball.
Addie appeared pulled together and certainly looked the part, but I knew better. I saw the fear in her eyes and the inherent need to be accepted. Outwardly, she nailed it. She dressed to impress my Ma, pulling out all the stops. She wore minimal makeup, the essence of her polished and fresh just like the moment I first saw her. With her white and blue sundress and her long auburn hair pulled back on the sides, she exuded class and elegance. But the inside was a different story. Inside, she’d been trained to doubt everything about herself.
Addie liked to think we were complete opposites, but at our core, we were a lot alike. We were both fiercely loyal to our families, hard workers, perceived to be people we weren’t, and at the moment, nervous as hell.
I placed a hand on her jaw and trailed my thumb along her cheek. “It’s just dinner, Addie, not an inquisition.”
She latched onto my wrist. “It’s your mom. Moms don’t like me, Zep. Roland’s mother hated me.” Kicking the dirt with the toe of her sandal, she bit her lip and looked away. “Fifteen minutes before my own wedding, Margaret Bordeaux cornered me at the church and tried to pay me twenty thousand dollars to ditch Roland at the altar.”
The mention of her ex-husband clouded my good mood. “Should’ve taken the money and run.”
She popped one hand on her hip and snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Zep, focus! This isn’t funny. I’d never done anything to the woman, and she hated me. What if your mom hates me too?”
The slight lift of her voice told me Addie was paranoid about making a bad impression, and it filled my chest with male pride. “She doesn’t hate you. There’s one big difference between Margaret Bordeaux and Liv LeBlanc.”
Her eyes widened, and she grabbed my arm, squeezing the shit out of it. “Oh God, you told her everything, didn’t you?”
“Addie…” Pulling away, I crossed my arms and failed at holding in a laugh as she paced in front of the truck while wringing her hands.
“This is a trap. I’m walking into a trap. Shit, I need a drink. Will there be wine? I need wine.”
Grabbing her by the shoulders, I stopped her mid-pace. “Breathe. Damn, woman, all I meant was that my mom has known you and your family your whole life. You don’t have to pretend around her.”
Her body relaxed, the tension instantly melting out of her. “Oh, okay, good.”
Entwining our fingers, I walked her up the steps to my mother’s second-floor apartment. The closer we got, the closer her body pressed against me. “Also, she knows I’ve never gotten over you and spent the last thirteen years plotting how to get you back,” I confessed quickly as I raised my hand to knock.
A groan rumbled from her chest. “Oh, no pressure, right?”
Whether she liked it or not, the hitch in her voice betrayed her indifference, assuring me that officially meeting my mother as my girlfriend meant as much to her as it did to me. I glanced over my shoulder, immediately thrown off balance as the door swung open.
“Zep! I’m so happy to see you!” Wrapping her small arms around my neck, my mother pressed her lips against my cheek and then gave me a hearty slap. “Why haven’t you called me all week?”
“I—”
Sneaking a quick glance to my left, she waved a hand in the air. “You know what? Never mind. It’s not important.”
Having grown up with her less than enthusiastic respect for tact and reserve, I shrugged, not batting an eye until she turned her attention back toward Addie.
“Adelaide Dubois, don’t you look…” She pursed her lips and cocked her head. “Well, are you all right? Your eyes look a little squirrelly, sweets.”
I cleared my throat and glared at her. “Ma!”
“What?” Stepping back to allow us inside, she shrugged unapologetically at me behind Addie’s back.
Addie whipped around with a timid smile, her ingrained etiquette taking over. “I’m fine, Ms. LeBlanc. I just haven’t slept much lately.” Her gaze found mine, and she shifted her stance back and forth, her fingers worrying the ring on her right hand.
Ma snickered, giving Addie a wink before turning to head back to the kitchen. “My boy keeping you busy?”
Groaning, I glanced up at the ceiling, praying it would fall on my head and knock me unconscious. “Jesus, Ma, are you done?”
“I’m just having fun. You two come on in. I’ve got sweet tea and lemonade, so help yourself. I have to go check on the okra”
I didn’t have to turn around to know Addie was half-way to texting Savannah to have her drop off some liquid courage. “No beer? You’re a bartender.”
“Zephirin Beaudean LeBlanc, it’s God’s day. At least leave me with one pure thing in this house on Sunday afternoon.” Ma shot me a disapproving look from the kitchen, and I wanted to throw one of the wax apples from the fruit basket at her. My mother was a good woman, but God fearing and Liv LeBlanc didn’t be
long in the same sentence. In fact, I was pretty sure she was the only woman in Terrebonne Parish who could rival Babs Dubois’ arrest record.
“Tea and lemonade are great.” Addie watched our exchange with a horrified expression before wandering into the kitchen.
Ma let out a laugh, doubling over as she wielded a butcher knife in the air. “I’m just fucking with you! You should’ve seen your face, Addie. That shit was worth it right there.” Wiping her eyes, she leaned over and scanned the floor between Addie’s feet. “Nope, didn’t piss yourself. You’ve toughened up in your old age, Dubois.”
“Right.” Addie’s brown eyes glittered with unsureness, a quality I rarely saw in her. “Do you need any help, Ms. LeBlanc?”
It didn’t go over my head that Addie made a point to emphasize the Ms. I knew she thought she was minding her manners, but my mother hated when people assumed she had to be married just because she was forty-eight.
Swinging the knife, Ma motioned toward the refrigerator. “It’s Liv, sweets, and I’ve got this. Haven’t asked for help in over thirty years and don’t plan to start now. By the way, I was just joking’ before about the booze. There’s beer and wine in the fridge, so help yourself. The only rule I have in this house is that whatever you grab, grab two. No one drinks alone in my presence.”
As Addie reached for the refrigerator, a wicked gleam lit up Ma’s eye, and my throat tightened.
Oh shit.
I knew that gleam. I didn’t get the reputation I had in high school by being raised by a proper Southern lady. While most moms enjoyed ladies’ groups and social niceties, my mother found no greater joy in life than turning a room uncomfortable and fucking with people’s heads.
And Addie was about to get mindfucked by the best of them.
I strained to hear as Ma sidled up behind Addie and dropped her voice an octave. “But, if you hurt my boy again, I’ve got a .22 and a shovel.”