The stranger, p.29
The Stranger, page 29
“How lovely.”
When the food is ready, I help my mother set the table, while Delilah’s mum helps her plate everything up.
The other two grifters eventually wander up to join us, which has my mother pouring herself a second glass of wine.
She probably needs it to get through the next hour. I could use a stiff drink myself, but I need to remain vigilant around these people, for Delilah’s sake, not my own.
Once we’ve taken our seats, the food is brought out. The sweet smile on Delilah’s face hits me right in the chest. I can see how proud she is. Unfortunately, that look of pride falls right off her face when her father is the first to start.
“You are a guest,” he says to his wife when she places his meal down in front of him. “You shouldn’t be slaving away in the kitchen.” His accusing eyes move to me. “If these people can afford to live in a house such as this, they should have help waiting on them … not my wife.”
These people?
“Delilah cooked the meal all on her own,” she says in her daughter’s defence. “I only helped with the plating.”
“You don’t need to lie for her, Mum,” Abigail chimes in.
“She’s not lying,” I grate out as I simultaneously count to ten in my head.
“Nobody asked for your opinion,” her father grumbles.
“If you are going to make unfounded accusations, I’ll be giving my opinion whether it is asked for or not.” The room falls quiet as Delilah’s shaking hands place a plate down in front of me. “Thank you. It looks delicious, sweetheart,” I say as my hand moves to the small of her back to comfort her.
Mrs St. James places the next dish in front of Abigail, who immediately screws up her nose. She leans in and inspects her plate before moving her attention towards her sister. I brace myself for the venom I know she’s about to spew.
My hand is still resting on the small of her back, and when I feel her body stiffen, she knows what’s coming as well.
“You rub this fancy house in our faces and then serve us peasant food?”
I hear my mother take in a sharp breath from beside me. “Delilah chose this meal specifically because she knew it was your father’s favourite,” I snarl.
Abigail rolls her eyes as she leans forward in her chair to make eye contact with her father. “You’re such a suck, Delilah. Isn’t she, Daddy?”
I open my mouth to speak, but my mother beats me to it. “Enough,” she roars, throwing her cloth napkin on the table. “I refuse to sit here and listen to you ridicule, disrespect, and talk down to your hosts.” She points at Delilah’s father first before moving her finger in Abigail’s direction. “My son is a good man and loyal to a fault. Which is more than I can say for the last man in Delilah’s life. I’m sure you’d agree with me there, Abigail.” Her attention then turns back to Delilah’s parents. “You may not be thrilled about this union, but Spencer worships the ground your daughter walks on. He shows her nothing but kindness, understanding, love, and respect. As a parent myself, I’d like to think you wouldn’t expect anything less for your child. He has and will continue to give your daughter a life that most can only dream of.
“As for Delilah,” she continues. “If she were my daughter, I’d be celebrating her for being a kind, strong, and resilient woman. You should be incredibly proud of the beautiful person she is, inside and out, despite all the injustices she’s had to face throughout her life. You all need to take a long, hard look at yourselves for the deplorable way you have, and continue to treat her. I’m flabbergasted that Delilah still chooses to have you in her life, which says way more about her character than it does about yours.”
“Now listen here,” her father barks, but my mother stands and gives him a look so sharp it has him closing his mouth immediately.
Mum’s steely gaze then snaps to Abigail. “And as for you, young lady, and I use the term lady loosely. I’ve never had the displeasure of meeting such a rude, nasty, and vile person in my life. I pity that poor child having to grow up with a mother like you.”
“If I wanted your opinion, old lady, I would’ve asked for it,” Abigail spits while sending daggers my mother’s way.
“Abigail,” her mother screeches. “Apologise this instant.”
“Fine … sorry,” she mumbles with zero sincerity.
I promised Delilah I’d be on my best behaviour where her family was concerned this weekend, but I can no longer sit here and watch these two disrespect the most important women in my life. I don’t give a flying fuck that they share the same bloodline as my fiancée. Their actions tonight have been deplorable.
When I go to stand, my mother places her hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got this, Son,” she says. “If you two can’t—” she points to Delilah’s father again before repeating her actions with Abigail, “—in good conscience, put all your grievances and grudges aside for one day to celebrate these two wonderful human beings, then maybe it’s best if you leave.” Her attention moves away from our guests and lands on us. “If you two will excuse me, I’ve had about as much as I can take for one evening, and I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow.”
As she turns to leave, Delilah places the other plate she was holding down, and rushes in her direction. “Eloise,” she murmurs, sliding her arms around my mother’s waist. “I love you.”
Those words have my mother choking up as she tenderly cups Delilah’s face in her hands. “I love you too, darling. You’ve made not only this old woman—” her eyes dart to Abigail when she says that part, “—but also my son, extremely happy. I’ll always cherish you for that. Please know that we both see you for all the wonderful things that you are. And tomorrow you’ll officially become a Prescott, and what a glorious day that will be.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say, reaching for my mother’s wine glass and briefly holding it in the air before gulping down the rest of its contents.
I grin inwardly at the thought that one day, when Delilah is ready, I hope we can add a few little Prescotts to the picture.
“You don’t look nervous at all,” my mother says as she reaches up to straighten my bowtie.
“Should I be?”
“It’s your wedding day, but you were always such a confident little boy … so sure of yourself. I shouldn’t be surprised that the grown-up version is no different.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing Delilah walk down the aisle. This day couldn’t have come soon enough if you ask me.”
She taps her open palm against my chest. “I’m immensely proud of the determined, kind, hardworking, and loving man you’ve become. I hope you know that. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner for you, even if I handpicked her myself.”
“Please, no tears,” I plead when I see them well in her eyes. “In a way, you played your part in this union.”
“I suppose I did,” she replies, snatching a tissue from the nightstand and dabbing the corners of her eyes.
“You suppose? Don’t act coy mother, you know as well as I do that you tricked me into going to Delilah’s parents’ house that night.”
She places her hand on her chest to fake innocence. “I would never.”
“Really? You told me she was expecting me, when in actual fact she was expecting you.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” I reply with a chuckle.
“I was just doing what mothers do best.”
“Meddle in their children’s lives?”
“No, I was giving you a gentle push in the right direction. I saw how special she was the first day we met, and I knew it was only a matter of time before you saw the same thing.”
“A gentle push or a shove?”
“Same, same,” she says, flicking her hand. “And I’m sorry for the tears … I’ve just waited a long time for this day. For a while there, I was worried it would never happen.”
I tenderly grasp her shoulders and lean in to place my lips against her cheek. “Thank you for always being there for me, and for manipulating me into going to her house that night because it inadvertently turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I appreciate you, Mother.” But the moment those words are out of my mouth, I tilt my head back and groan because it has her tears reappearing.
“I guess I should get out there and make sure everything is in order,” she sniffles, dabbing her eyes again. “I also want to monitor that retched woman and her father.”
“Good luck with that.”
“They were on their best behaviour at breakfast this morning, so I hope I don’t need it. If all else fails, the pair of them may end up going for an unplanned swim in that delightful little stream out back.”
I bark out a laugh as she turns to leave the room.
Despite the disastrous start to our dinner party last night, surprisingly it still went ahead—sans my mother of course. It was quiet and a tad awkward. Somewhat strained conversation flowed intermittently between Delilah, me, and her mother. The other two thankfully kept their mouths shut.
When the meal was complete, they hightailed it to their rooms while the three of us were left to tidy up.
Delilah’s mother hugged her tightly before she retired for the evening, and said, “I love you. Never forget that, sweetie. From the moment you were conceived, I wanted you, and that hasn’t changed. I’m proud of the woman you are, and so happy you found a man who worships the ground you walk on.”
My mother’s harsh words from earlier must have had some effect on her, and I was grateful for that.
Delilah made a sandwich and a cup of tea for my mother once we’d finished cleaning the kitchen and took it up to her room. She was in there for a good hour, and when she came to our bedroom looking for me, she was smiling. Between her mother’s words, and whatever mine had said to her, her spirits had gotten a much-needed boost.
By morning, it was like the events of the night before had never happened. My mother brought in a team of hairstylists and makeup artists, who arrived at the estate early to work their magic. Not that my girl needed any of that. Her sister, though, would need a lot more than makeup to hide the ugliness that lies within.
Delilah included her mother and her sister in the pampering because, despite it all, her kind heart will always win out in the end. It’s just the person she is. Some may see that as a flaw or weakness, but I see it for what it is. She’s simply being kind to the unkindest of people because, in her eyes, they are the ones who need it most.
When our guests begin to arrive, I make my way downstairs. The nerves my mother mentioned earlier have still not hit. I’m wondering if they will. This is a day I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. And as long as Delilah makes her way down that aisle towards me, I have nothing to fear.
We have a fleet of golf buggies on-site to ferry our guests down to the stream where the ceremony will be held.
I’m still feeling perfectly composed as I mill around with some of our guests while waiting for the bride to arrive. I did, however, have to rescue my lawyer from my mother’s clutches—thankfully, his wife, Brooke, found it thoroughly amusing. She conveniently sat them both at her table for the duration of the reception, which I’m sure was a calculated move on her part. I know it is harmless, but I still find her actions shameless. I don’t doubt that she and Brooke will be the best of friends by the time the evening is over.
When the celebrant notifies me the bride is on her way, it’s time for me to take my place by the altar. My stomach chooses that very moment to lurch.
My hands twitch as I move to stand in front of the beautifully decorated arbour. It has been made from branches—that the artist collected from our property—which have been entwined together to form an arch. There’s sheer, white fabric scalloped along the top and a bouquet of native wildflowers bunched in each corner. I couldn’t envision it when Delilah told me what she wanted, but I love all her personal touches, and it suits the scenery.
The entire surroundings look amazing, and Delilah was right; this is the perfect backdrop for our wedding. I shove my hands into the pockets of my trousers as I turn and watch the bride being chauffeured towards us. A long strip of white carpet has been laid down in the centre and is flanked on either side with rows of white wooden chairs.
I’m grinning like a lovesick fool when the cart pulls to a stop. My mother is waiting there to help her exit. Not only does my breath hitch in my throat when she steps down and I get the first glimpse at her dress, but something unexpected happens … my eyes cloud over.
I clear my throat and tilt my head towards the blue, cloudless sky above. It’s a colour very similar to Delilah’s pretty eyes. Blinking rapidly, I try to pull myself together as my bride prepares to make her way down to me.
Delilah takes her position as my mother fusses over the back of her dress, making sure it’s fanned out perfectly where it lies against the ground. When she turns briefly to kiss my mother’s cheek and thank her, I get a glimpse at the back of her dress … or lack thereof. It tapers down, forming a large ‘V’ that ends at the base of her spine. A low growl rumbles in the back of my throat at the sight of all that bare flesh.
I’m now looking forward to seeing all of her from behind because her formfitting gown doesn’t flare out until mid-thigh, which means it is hugging that luscious peachy arse of hers. It’s one of many parts of her body that I’m obsessed with.
When the first beats of the song Delilah chose, “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri, start playing, the moisture in my eyes returns. I can’t remember the last time I became so emotional, but I know it wasn’t during my adult years, which Delilah would tease was a very long time.
As she gets closer, I can make more details out. Her gown is made from elegant rose embroidered lace that accentuates every curve on her petite body. Thin straps hold the bodice up and it has a fit-and-flare silhouette skirt that flows into a long train in the rear. The ivory fabric is illuminated further by her tanned, silky soft skin.
Her long blonde hair has been left down and the loose curls cascade over one shoulder. The other side has been pulled back by a row of fresh white roses, resembling the ones in her bouquet. She’s a vision of femininity.
In a genuine show of strength, she chose to walk herself down the aisle today. “He never wanted to be my father, so he doesn’t deserve the honour of giving me away,” was what she said. It broke my heart to hear those words from her, but to say I’m proud of her for making a stance is an understatement. Is it wrong of me to hope he’s having regrets? Although judging by his eldest daughter’s unscrupulous character, he might get many opportunities to do it with that one.
Pushing thoughts of them from my mind because they are not worth my time, I focus my attention solely on the woman who is going to become my wife in a matter of minutes.
Her beaming smile matches mine as she takes the first step towards the rest of our lives.
I’m humbled knowing she had enough courage to take a leap of faith with me and give love another try. I won’t let her down like the last man did. I’ll cherish this woman, and all that she represents, with everything I have … in this life, and the next.
Chapter 38
Delilah
Istare down at the sweet face of our precious daughter as she suckles the last of her milk. The love I hold for this tiny human is indescribable. All my life I’ve dreamed of becoming a mother, and not only did I get my wish, I got to experience the glory of parenthood with the most amazing man.
Her big, chocolate-brown eyes—ones that are just like her father’s—are closed, and she’s on the verge of falling asleep. She needs to be burped, but I have to pee so badly I’m about to burst. Post-baby bladder is a thing.
I push my chair away from my desk and stand, securing my boob back into my maternity bra as I hastily cross the reception area and head for my husband’s office.
When I enter, Spencer places his finger over his lips and then juts his head towards the computer, letting me know he’s in the middle of a conference call.
“I have to pee,” I mouth. “She needs to be burped.” I do the motion with my hand and Spencer nods, extending his arms to take her from me.
I love how hands-on he is with her.
We will celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary at the end of this month. Although I was keen to have children, straight away, Spencer thought I was too young and wanted me to experience more things before motherhood burdened me down. He also admitted to being selfish and wanting to keep me all to himself for a while before having to share me with someone else.
We’ve spent the last few years travelling the world and experiencing all that life offers.
After our precious Mia was born—the apple of her parents’ and Grandmother Eloise’s eye—Spencer encouraged me to stay home after her birth, but I didn’t want that. I had the luxury of having the best of both worlds. I could continue working and bring my child along with me.
When you are a joint owner of a billion-dollar company, you have options. Prescott Enterprises has grown exponentially over the past few years since we have gone global, opening up offices in America, London, and Singapore.
For my twenty-fifth birthday, Spencer presented me with a partnership. It’s not something I wanted or asked for, but it was his way of telling me he was committed to us for life. For those reasons alone, I couldn’t have asked for a better gift. I was never interested in the money, or the company—all I’ll ever need is him. I know with all certainty he is one hundred percent devoted to both me and Mia.
Despite the impending bladder explosion, I take a moment to watch the interaction between father and daughter. The sheer amount of love I see shining in his eyes as he kisses both her chubby cheeks before gently laying her against his shoulder has my heart turning to mush.
“Is that a baby?” I hear the person on the other end of the video call, ask.
“Yes, this is my daughter, Mia.” Spencer turns her slightly towards the screen to show her off, which is something he does often. “Isn’t she the cutest?”
