Asher’s POV
“We are so delighted to have you at our home,” Mr. Whitfield said cheerfully. “It’s our pleasure…
The waiters served the food. The main course was grilled filet mignon with roasted vegetables and truffle sauce.
“It was a rather unlikely situation that brought us together,” my dad responded.
“A beautiful one, nonetheless,” Mrs. Whitfield chimed in, smiling warmly at me.
I leaned closer to Ivy, who was sitting beside me. “Why is your mom staring at me?” I asked quietly.
She glanced at her mother for a moment before replying, “I think they’re starting to like you…”
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11
My eyes widened in alarm. “What? They hated the before?” My voice was louder than expected, and everyone’s eyes turned towards me at the table.
Ivy’s mother reached for my hand. “Are you okay, son? Is the food to your liking? Do you need anything else?”
Now everyone’s attention was on her. My mom gave her a quizzical look.
Son? I was too shocked by the term of endearment to respond properly. It was so affectionate that I was momentarily lost for words. I merely nodded, “Thank you,” I mouthed.
She didn’t seem convinced, but chose not to push further.
I turned back to Ivy. “Why didn’t they like me?” I pressed.
She shrugged. “They don’t really know you, and you’re married to their only daughter…”
“How did you two meet?” her mother asked in a cheery tone. “Ivy won’t tell us, so I’m hoping you will!”
I almost spat out my food. I glanced at Ivy, who looked equally shocked. “The two of us?” I repeated, trying to buy time.
“Yes,” her father confirmed. “You made a huge decision to get married. Surely, there has to be a story…”
I nodded. “I’ve known Ivy for a long time, but we were first introduced at a Christmas Eve ball…”
I could feel Ivy’s sharp gaze on me.
“True story,” I continued. “During the dance routine, we somehow ended up in each other’s arms- two young people who hadn’t rehearsed the dance beforehand. Needless to say, it was an epic disaster… our routine, that is.” I looked up at them. The Whitfields smiled broadly as they listened. My parents, on the other hand, looked uncomfortable while Marcus glared at me. Ivy, for her part, had a baffled expression on her face. “Our meeting was perfect–destined by fate. Nothing could be more beautiful…” I paused to let it sink in.
“Sounds like an exaggerated tale,” Marcus muttered. All eyes turned to him.
“What’s exaggerated about two young people meeting at a ball and not rehearsing their dance?” I shot back.
“Ivy never used to prepare for dances beforehand,” her mother chimed in.
“Mum!” Ivy groaned.
1/3
8:25 pm
Chapter 18
I smiled at Mrs. Whitfield. “Thank you.” Then I glanced at Marcus. “Pay no attention to my older brother here,” I leaned in, lowering my voice even though everyone could still hear me. “He’s my least favorite sibling.”
“You have another sibling?” her father asked, surprised.
“Yes, we have a daughter,” my mother replied. “Paris- she’s not here…” She smiled. “Paris likes to do her own thing…” She trailed off. By “doing her thing,” she meant that Paris was in another city, attending school. She didn’t care much for the family businesses.
“Aww, she’s named after our favorite city!” her mother exclaimed, delighted.
Her father pulled Mrs. Whitfield into a side hug and kissed the top of her head. “That’s where we met,” he added.
“Where we made Ivy, too,” Mrs. Whitfield said with a playful giggle.
Ivy bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. I stifled a chuckle as I observed everyone’s reactions with amusement. My parents looked stunned by the revelation, and I could sense their discomfort from a mile away.
The rest of the dinner continued, and I found myself intrigued by the Whitfields and how different they were from my own family. They spent most of the meal talking, holding hands, and stealing glances at each other like teenagers. My family, on the other hand… well, one of the first lessons we were taught was never to talk at the dining table. My parents sat close but felt so far apart. Their shoulders didn’t touch, and they didn’t glance at each other….
As I listened to Mr. Whitfield, smiling widely as he recounted their time in Paris, I realized how much I wanted that. I truly wanted what they had. I turned to look at Ivy, but she seemed lost in thought.
“You have such beautiful stories, Mr. Whitfield, and from what I can tell, a beautiful marriage too,” I complimented them. I couldn’t help myself.
He beamed. “Thank you, Asher.”.
I slipped my fingers through Ivy’s and kissed her hand. She looked at me, surprised, but I kept my gaze straight ahead. “I can only hope to have something as beautiful with Ivy…”
Marcus grunted.
I could almost tell what he was thinking. He was quiet only because we had guests. He probably thought I was joking, especially with me trying to be sweet to Ivy. Honestly, I wasn’t sure myself. I glanced at her again. “I’m taking the first steps. toward creating wonderful memories with Ivy…” I slipped my arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Our original plan was to go to the Maldives for our honeymoon…”
Ivy nearly choked on her drink.
“Are you okay, love?” I asked.
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