“His mother.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip, feeling the pulse of blood as it rushes to my head. Was not expecting that. “Okay. I just need to get cleaned up and I’ll—”
“She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Marta looks me up and down. She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t need to. I look a hot mess.
Lovely.
“Five minutes,” I say, shutting the door and scrambling toward the bathroom.
Tugging on a pair of barely worn jeans from yesterday and a white blouse, I pat some tinted moisturizer onto my face, swipe on some mascara and blush, and dab a bit of sheer, rose-hued lipstick over my lips to finish it off. Combing my hair back, I tie it into a low bun before spritzing on a modest amount of some fancy perfume with a name I can’t even begin to pronounce.
I’m done in a hair over seven minutes. Close enough. And definitely a record for me.
With my heart whooshing in my ears, I make my way down the hall, toward the foyer where a woman with jet-black hair that stops at her elegant jawline, a swan-like neck, thick pearls, and a pink Chanel dress waits. Her hands are clasped in front of her, a Dior clutch dangling from her manicured fingertips.
“Hello,” I say. I muster a warm smile and walk toward her, extending my right hand. “You’re Hudson’s mother? It’s nice to meet you.”
Her gaze falls to my right hand, and she pauses before meeting it with her own. She’s hesitant of me. Or maybe she’s in shock, trying to wrap her head around why some strange woman she’s never met is staying at her son’s place while he’s out and about.
“Yes. Helena Rutherford,” she says with a reluctant smile. “And you are?”
“Mari,” I say again. “Mari Collins.”
“Lovely to meet you, Mari.” She squints, studying me. “And who are you in relation to my son?”
“Oh. Right.” My heart thumps hard before falling to my feet. I don’t know how to answer this. I wasn’t supposed to meet her this soon. I don’t even know if he’s mentioned me yet, and I don’t want to screw this up. “I’m his—”
Helena sucks in a shocked gasp of breath, reaching for my left hand. It didn’t take her long to spot the engagement ring.
Oh, shit …
My jaw hangs. I’m searching for the words, willing myself to say something—anything—but I’m at a loss. I’m nothing but a wordless, speechless idiot.
The soft click of the door lock pulls our attention away and by some stroke of magic, Hudson wanders in like a sweat-glistened knight in shining gym shorts. Sweat dampens his shirt collar and his dark hair is wet, finger-combed back. He looks like he just walked off a Nike billboard in Times Square whereas anytime I work out, I tend to resemble a sewer rat by the time I’m finished.
“Mother.” He stops in his tracks, accepting a fluffy towel Marta brings to him and wiping his brow. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the city,” she says, her tone flatter than it was a moment ago. “Thought I’d stop by and pay you a visit.”
He approaches her, pressing a quick kiss into her check. “Wonderful. In that case, I take it you’ve just met my fiancée?”
Helena swallows, her smooth jaw tighter than her creaseless forehead. “I have now.”
Hudson smiles. “I was planning to make the announcement this summer, but since you’re here … meet Maribel Collins, my future wife.”
I nod and smile, forcing myself to stare at Hudson like he hung the moon before glancing back into his mother’s distant brown stare. The apple certainly doesn’t fall far from the tree in the Rutherford family.
And I have no idea what he was talking about when he claimed all I had to do was be myself and his parents would love me. Judging by his mother’s icy demeanor, she’s either in shock or having an internal conniption at this very moment.
I take his side, slipping my arm into his and gazing into his sapphire irises.
“I can’t wait to marry your son, Mrs. Rutherford.” I turn back to her. “He’s everything I could ever hope for in a partner. Intelligent. Ambitious. Hardworking. They don’t make them like him anymore.”
“How long have you two …?” His mother’s gaze passes between us.
“Not long,” I answer.
“I met her in January,” he lies. “I’m afraid it was a case of love at first sight. Who’d have thought that was actually a thing?”
“Right,” his mother echoes softly, as though she’s lost in her own thoughts. “Who’d have thought?”
Hudson leans down, kissing the top of my head. “I can’t wait for you to get to know Mari this summer, Mother. She’s as beautiful inside as she is out.”
Helena watches us with careful, scrutinizing regard before snapping out of it and clearing her throat.
“Yes, yes,” she says, a smile returning to her shock-white expression. Her eyes come alive, and it’s as if she flipped a switch. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. Hudson, I take it you’ll call your father and share the news before we head to Montauk? You know how he absolutely despises being the last to know.”
“Of course,” he says.
“We’ll plan a little celebration. An engagement party, if you will. Something small,” she says, heading toward the door then stopping to turn back. I find it interesting that she suddenly has somewhere to go. Maybe she needs to process this? “I’m sure the Sheffields will be tickled pink.” Her eyes graze my body, top to bottom. “Audrina in particular.” She chuckles to herself, shaking her head as if she finds something humorous.
Tilting her head high, she marches toward the door, her red-bottomed heels clicking on his marble foyer tile.
The second she’s gone, I glance at Hudson.
“She hates me already,” I say.
He scoffs. “She doesn’t hate you, she’s in shock. And she’s probably suspicious of you, but that’ll fade with time, once she gets to know you.”
“Why?” My face pinches, lips curling. “Why would she be suspicious of me?”
“She’s protective of me. And of the family’s money. But you don’t have to worry about any of this, Mari. She’d be the same way if you were America’s Sweetheart or the daughter of a sitting US president.” He tugs his damp t-shirt off his body, revealing a glistening six-pack complete with two muscled arrows pointing to his … family jewels. “But don’t concern yourself with any of that. Just be yourself and leave the rest to me. By the way, you handled yourself well. Not that I’m surprised.”
He strides down the hall toward his suite, and I follow because I’m not finished with this conversation.
“Is she going to be like this all summer?” I ask.
“Why? Does that change things?”
“Maybe.”
He arches a dark brow. “Trust me, she’ll get over it soon enough. Besides, with all the friends and family shuffling in and out all summer, she’ll put on a good face. As for whether or not she truly likes you, well, I don’t see how that should matter given the circumstances. And you really need to get over giving a fuck about whether people like you or not, Mari.”