Chapter 2 Meeting the Parents

Barbara's POV

When I pushed open the door to where I had spent my entire childhood, my mom was unpacking her vegetables onto the counter. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto our well-worn sofa before she joined me.

"So," she began, her voice shifting into what I called her 'gossip extraction mode.' "How was the date? Dona's grandson seemed like a nice young man from his photos. Thirty years old, still single, though too busy with work. Was he nice? Do you like him?"

"He was..." I swallowed hard. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" Her eyebrows shot up before she sighed dramatically. "Barbs, answer me honestly. How did it go?"

"Fine. He was fine. I mean, he seems... nice." The word 'nice' tasted like sawdust in my mouth. Levi Gardener was many things — intimidating, commanding, breathtakingly handsome — but 'nice' wasn't exactly the first word that came to mind.

"Well, good. You can get to know him better over time. These things take patience, you know." She patted my knee like I was a simpleton who needed the concept of dating explained.

Nope, too late for this 'taking patience' talk, I thought, before asking, "where's Dad? Is he coming home for dinner?"

"Yeah, 'round six. Why?"

I took a deep breath, gathering what little courage I had left. "Um, he — I mean, the guy from today — he's coming over tonight."

Mom's eyes widened. "You mean Dona Johnson's grandson?"

I nodded mutely.

"Coming here? Tonight?" When I nodded again, she leapt to her feet with surprising agility for a woman in her sixties. "Well why didn't you say so earlier? This changes everything!"

She bustled toward the door, snatching her purse from the hook. "I need to get fish. No, lobster! Your father hid that bottle of Cabernet someone gave him last Christmas..."

"Mom, you don't have to—"

"Of course I do! First impressions matter. If he's interested enough to meet your parents already, we need to make an effort."

Before I could respond, she was gone in a whirlwind of determination, the door clicking shut behind her.

As Mom's footsteps faded away, I dragged myself to my bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Fishing out the certificate from my pocket, I stared at the names bound together by law. After Samson's betrayal two years ago, I had given up on love, burying myself in work, convinced I would never love again. And yet, here I was. Married.

A strange calm washed over me: maybe this bizarre arrangement with Levi wasn't so bad. A marriage without love. A partnership based on practicality. Financial security. Social status. A comfortable life — his exact words. All without risking another heartbreak.

No love. No disappointment.

The tension that had been coiled inside me since that coffee shop meeting began to unwind. Tucking the certificate under my pillow, I pulled my comforter over my head, and surrendered to the exhaustion that had been stalking me all day.

Golden light slanted through my window when I woke again. My mother's unnaturally bright voice filtered through my door. "Levi, right? Here, have some water. And try an apple — I bought them fresh from the market!"

My stomach plummeted. I had overslept, and now he was here.

I quickly made myself presentable and rushed out of my room, colliding with Mom who was balancing a plate of fruit. "Barbs, perfect timing! Levi is here. Come keep him company," she said with sugary enthusiasm before disappearing into the kitchen.

The silence stretched between us as I stood frozen in the living room. When I finally gathered enough courage to look at him, gone was the intimidating CEO; instead, he wore a simple athletic sweater that softened his sharp edges.

Did he change clothes just to come here? The thought was oddly endearing.

"Give me your hand," he said abruptly, breaking the silence.

I extended my right hand automatically, a pavlovian response to his authoritative tone.

"The left one," he corrected, his voice gentler than I had ever heard it.

I switched hands as he pulled out a platinum ring that caught the evening light, sending tiny reflections dancing across our ceiling. With businesslike efficiency tempered by unexpected care, he slid it onto my ring finger.

It fit perfectly.

My breath hitched as I stared at the band now adorning my finger. Simple yet elegant, it gleamed against my skin like a sliver of moonlight. I noticed an identical ring on his own left hand. When had he put that on?

"Perfect size," he murmured, more to himself than to me.

His fingers lingered against mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and something electric buzzed up my arm at the contact. I blamed it on static electricity from the carpet.

"I told you I would give you everything," he said, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that made my knees suddenly unreliable.

The front door clicked open before I could formulate a response, saving me from having to acknowledge the strange tension simmering between us. I yanked my hand back like I had been burned, shoving it deep into my pocket.

"Levi—" I whispered. "I need to tell you something. I haven't told my parents about... our marriage."

He gave a nearly imperceptible nod, just a slight dip of his chin that somehow communicated complete understanding. How did he make even the smallest gestures seem so authoritative?

I opened my mouth to continue, but a familiar voice from the hallway cut me off. "Barbara! Is there a guest?"

My father's deep baritone froze me in place. As I turned to make introductions, I found him already standing in the living room, his gaze locked onto Levi, who had risen from the couch with fluid grace.

"Levi?" Dad's voice held a note of surprised pleasure I rarely heard. "What brings you here?"

My head whipped between them so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

"Professor," Levi replied, inclining his head slightly in a gesture that somehow contained more respect than a full bow.

I stood dumbfounded between them, my brain desperately trying to connect dots that refused to align. My father—the quiet, bookish academic who spent his weekends reading obscure philosophy texts—knew Levi Gardener, the CEO of Gardener Group and apparently my new husband?

"You two... know each other?" My voice emerged as a squeak.