Chelsea kept her smile on her face, but inside she was nervous. What if they didn’t like her? What if they didn’t want her to be a part of their family? Matthew’s smile dissolved.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” He asked.
“Nothing, I’m fine really. Don’t give me that look. I have to go over a few of these cases, that’s all. Lunch?”
He nodded. “Lunch sounds great.”
Chelsea left the conference room quickly and headed back for her office. When she closed the door she gave a deep sigh. She wasn’t ready. There was no way she was ready to meet his family. From what little she knew of them, they were pretty well off. Matthew’s father ran a construction company that was only getting more popular as the years went by. His mother was a retired attorney herself. Chelsea had come from humble roots. Her father was in the military and her mother was a nurse at the local hospital. She didn’t know how she’d fit in with them.
She sat behind her desk. Instead of pulling out one of her work files, she delved back into her wedding planning bible. Picking up her cellphone, she called around to see if they could find a decent caterer. Matthew had told her to plan big and to spend whatever she wanted. That made her briefly wonder just how much money his family had, but she didn’t pry. That was something to figure out later.
Before she knew it the time on her phone blinked one. She gathered up her briefcase, tossed the binder back inside and headed out of her office. She rode the elevator down, trying to dodge the many questions her co-worker’s had about the wedding, almost wishing she’d taken the stairs. Not in the heels she was wearing.
She stepped off of the elevator and waved to the group of lunch goers. Matthew was waiting, his jacket over his arm. He raised an eyebrow as she rolled her eyes. It always felt like people were watching them as they walked through the building now, the eyes following them to see if they’d kiss, if they’d fight. Once they hit the outside, the sun made Chelsea wince. The cons of life in an office, lit by constant fluorescents and in front of laptop screens.
“Let me guess. They were talking your ear off?” Matthew asked with a grin.
“Ugh, you have no idea! It’s like a million questions and you know most of them don’t really care. They just want something to gossip about. I wish I could tell them to fuck off,” she said with a sigh.
“Please, don’t do that. I like working with my future wife.”
“Not for too long. Eventually daddy Warbucks will want you to take the throne and I’ll be by myself again fighting with these jackals.”
“Or,” he said grabbing her hand as they walked, “you make partner and then you get to boss the jackals around.”
The thought made her smile. His hand slipped into hers even more so. She glanced down at his hand, his skin pale against her brown. It wasn’t the first time she’d dated a man of another race, but she definitely hoped it was the last time. Matthew was everything she’d dreamed of in a man; ambitious, trustworthy, funny, intelligent and sexy just to name a few. Sure, he could have a bit of a temper, but he was working on it. No longer letting the stress of the job get to him was one of the things that helped.
They walked into an Italian restaurant that was more high end than where their collages would visit for lunch. Matthew pulled out her chair and Chelsea thanked him. The tinkling of classical music filled the small building. The table cloths were white, heavy linen, not the plastic ones she’d become accustomed to when she was younger. She knew the silverware was all real, the plates and tea cups fine china, the wine vintage and the people rich. She gazed around the restaurant easily picking them out. There was a man with diamond cufflinks, who could afford that anymore? A woman with blond curls was wearing a black Versace dress, her impeccable red nails drumming against the tablecloth. Everywhere Chelsea looked, she could see signs of wealth. She wondered vaguely if Matthew’s parents would be the same, oozing wealth and status.
Matthew must have seen the look of concern on her face. He reached over, laid his hand on top of hers and gave it a firm squeeze. That at least made the frown fall from her features. A woman walked up to the table, white button down shirt, black bow tie and black slacks. Her breasts looked like they were about to burst out of her top. Chelsea looked over at Matthew who was looking anywhere, but at the waitress.
They ordered quickly. When the woman was gone Chelsea kept grinning at Matthew, but he made himself busy laying his napkin in his lap. He must have adjusted it ten times before he finally looked up meeting her gaze.
“I didn’t look,” he said.
“I didn’t say you did.”
He paused for a minute. “They were like out to here,” he said indicating how big her breasts were with his hands.
Several of the other patrons shook their heads or turned up their noses. He didn’t care. Matthew had no censor sometimes and it was mostly hilarious, sometimes embarrassing. She laughed behind her hand and swatted at him.
“Stop that! Stop it!”
Matthew grinned as he drank some water and shot daggers at the people around them. She loved that out of the both of them, he was the one who could lighten up. He cared deeply about his job, loved the thought of going into his father’s business, but he didn’t seem to care for the people. He’d told Chelsea more than once that rich people were like toddlers only with diamonds and cash instead of toys to fight over.