Chapter 4
Sunlight flooded her closed eyes making Chelsea wince. She opened them slowly. Matthew had fallen asleep next to her still dressed in his best. She knew the drinks and long car ride had caused that. Reaching out a hand, she stroked his cheek softly. His skin was warm. Leaning over she kissed his lips.
“Good morning to you too,” he mumbled.
There was a knock on the door. Matthew weakly called out come in. Jackson stepped through the door, looked at both of them and cleared his throat. Chelsea had the sheet pulled up to her shoulders, but the fact that they were bare probably made him think there was more going on than it seemed. Chelsea looked away, embarrassed.
“Your mother has requested you for breakfast. It should be ready in twenty minutes,” he said.
Matthew thanked him then groaned. Slowly, he rolled over, pushing himself off of the bed. Chelsea helped him out of his jacket. He grabbed towels for both of them out of the linen closet before tossing her one.
“I’m going to shower in the bathroom across from my room. Or, you could join me,” he said with a grin.
Chelsea shook her head. “Your mother already doesn’t like me. Let’s keep this as unsexy as possible.”
Matthew chuckled as he headed out of the room after placing a kiss on her nose. She watched him leave, then slipped out of bed herself. Her feet touched the cool wooden floor, not yet warmed by the sun. She sighed. It was going to be a long day. She grabbed her towel before padding across into the bedroom. She had a slight hangover, but she hoped some food and pain pills would remedy that soon enough.
Stepping out of the shower, she wiped fog from the mirror with her hand. Her hair was all over her head. She laughed. Only Matthew would still find her beautiful when she was a mess. She spent some time combing through her hair before she put it into a ponytail. Rifling through her clothes, she found something she thought would be suitable for breakfast. A pale green top, blue jeans and brown sandals. She examined herself in the mirror, swiped on a little makeup, then headed downstairs for breakfast.
As Chelsea trailed a hand down the banister, she could already smell food filling the house. Her stomach made its hunger known by growling loudly. She placed her hand over it making a shushing sound. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned her head first one way, then another. She realized she had no idea where she was going.
“This way, ma’am,” Jackson said making her
“Thanks,” she said sheepishly, “you don’t have to call me ma’am though. I’m Chelsea. Please call me that.”
“Yes, Miss Chelsea.”
She shook her head. It was a start at least. They walked down a corridor passing room after room as they went. Chelsea wondered what was behind the closed doors. Finally, they stepped into the dining room. A long, oak table stood in the middle. Around the table sat Matthew, his parents and Sangi and Andrew, who seemed to be in deep conversation in hushed tones.
“Crissy, so good of you to join us,” Matthew’s mom said with a tight lipped smile.
“Chelsea. Yes, I couldn’t find it right away. You have a really beautiful home,” she said as she sat down.
Everyone was nicely dress, looking a bit more than casual in light colored slacks and neat button downs. Chelsea wondered if these people even knew what casual was. Even Sangi was wearing a summer dress, red with yellow flowers splashed on it. She was really beginning to feel that she was out of her league.
Matthew took her hand, giving it a squeeze beneath the table. Food was brought out by smartly dressed kitchen staff. All of them wearing simple black pants and white shirts.
“Alright, Lyle. You can say grace now,” Catherine said.
Lyle placed his phone on the table finally, standing up. “For this and all we are about to receive, make us truly grateful, Lord. Through Christ we pray. Amen.”
Amen’s resounded around the table. Matthew poked her in her side making her whisper a hurried amen. As soon as Lyle was seated again, the trays were removed from their food by the staff. In front of Chelsea was the biggest disappointment she had ever seen. There was a modest meal of some kind of quiche, a single pancake and a strip of bacon. It looked like something more suited for the Cooking Network than Chelsea’s raging stomach. She picked up her fork, eating slowly while craving a cheeseburger.
“So, the wedding is just a few months away. I suppose you both have everything squared away? I hope the planner can handle everything with the amount of guests who’ll want to attend,” Catherine said before sipping on her glass of fresh orange juice.
“Chelsea’s actually handling all of the wedding details herself. She wants to plan it without any help,” Matthew said.
Sangi pouted. “Hey, I help.”
“Minimal help,” he corrected.
Sangi shot him a look, but Matthew just continued to grin into his plate. She didn’t know why the two of them liked to take such jabs at each other, but they never seemed to fully get along. Still, they kept it peaceful most of the time, for that Chelsea was grateful. She looked back over to Catherine as she spoke again.