“Mrs. Webber was just leaving,” Mark answered, giving Declan a hard look. It seemed that volumes were spoken between the two men as Declan’s lips thinned.
He turned to his wife, asking, “Are you okay, Ellie?”
Ella gave him a slight shake of her head before surprising them all by saying, “Yes, Mother is leaving. Could you walk her out, honey?”
Crystal stood frozen to her spot as a sputtering Dot Webber was escorted gently but firmly from the foyer and out the door. She looked over her shoulder to see everyone attempting to look like they weren’t riveted by what had just taken place. “I’m so sorry, Crys,” Ella whispered as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “I can’t even make excuses for her anymore because there are none.”
Declan walked back in, looking irritated. “I swear to God, that woman is fucking insane. What did she do this time?”
Crystal sent Ella a pleading look, not wanting to get into it again. The damage had already been done tonight, and she just wanted to go home and enjoy one hell of a pity party. Her sister turned to her husband and lightly patted his arm. “We’ll talk about it later, babe. Let’s go make sure everyone has enough to eat and drink.”
Declan gave Crystal a concerned look as if noticing her pallor. “You all right, sweetheart?” he asked before dropping a kiss on her cheek.
“Sure,” Crystal managed to get out past the lump in her throat. “It’s been a long day, though, so I’m going to head home now. Please give my congratulations to Suzy and Gray again.”
“Let me get my keys and I’ll take you,” Declan offered, already walking away to collect what he needed. Her brother-in-law was such an amazing man.
“I’ve got her, Dec,” Mark spoke up, still sounding tense from the earlier scene. This is probably the last thing he needed tonight, Crystal thought, after having to deal with his own parents just days earlier. “We’ll take her car. If you’ll just tell Denny to go on home when he’s ready . . .”
“Sure thing, man,” Declan agreed easily.
Ella gave her a hug, whispering in her ear, “Call me later. I love you.”
In another few moments, they were out the door and Mark was helping her into the passenger seat of her Volkswagen Beetle. Then he gave her what she was in desperate need of—laughter. Just watching him trying to fold his tall frame into her tiny car was hilarious. And when he finally managed to get in and close the door, his eyes fell on the built-in vase with the bright flowers inside of it and the look of astonishment he gave her was comical. When he reached out to touch it, she started giggling so hard she could barely remain upright. “Did you put that there?” he asked, studying the floral arrangement as if it were a science experiment.
“It came with the car,” she managed to wheeze.
He looked around him for another moment before putting the key in the ignition. “I can’t see a man ever buying one of these. I’m going to have to turn in my man card after driving the damn thing home.”
“Ah, come on,” she teased. “Aren’t you secure enough in your masculinity to handle a small vehicle? Your Porsche is about the same size.”
“Angel, a Porsche is all testosterone. This—whatever it is—is strictly for those with a vagina.”
He teased her about her beloved Beetle for the five minutes it took to get to his house. Despite the ugly scene with her mother, she found herself able to relax for the first time in days. He’d brought her here instead of taking her home. Obviously, he hadn’t caught the part in her mother’s rant about Bill. She had to tell him, though, before something that was essentially innocent was blown out of proportion.
Mark parked the car and then took one last look at the flower vase before shaking his head and getting out. He walked to her side, opening her door and holding out a hand to her. He didn’t release his hold on her as he punched in some numbers on the garage keypad, raising the door so that they could walk through and access the kitchen entrance. He led her to a barstool, then took a bottle of amber-colored liquor from the cabinet and poured generous measures into two glasses. He pushed one of them in front of her, saying, “I believe this evening calls for something more than wine.”
She took a tentative sip and felt like her throat was flaming. She gasped as she tried to breathe. Mark chuckled while tapping her on the back. “Holy crap,” she croaked. “What is this stuff? Gasoline?”
“That’s scotch, Angel—the good stuff. Now be a good girl and drink up.” She had just taken another sip when he added, “Because when you’re finished, we’re going to discuss the fact that you’ve been seeing a marriage counselor with your ex-husband one day and riding my cock the next.”
That was all it took; she spit the fiery liquid across the granite countertop, with some of it splattering the front of Mark’s suit. “I—you . . . heard,” she blurted out before stopping abruptly. God, that didn’t sound good at all. Instead of her knee-jerk reaction, it might have been a better idea to play dumb, at least until she’d collected her wits enough to have a rational discussion.
“I already knew, Angel,” he said flatly.
“You did?” She gaped up at him. Shit, she just kept making this worse on herself.
He removed his now-damp suit jacket and tie, draping them over one of the spare stools. Then he settled across from her. When she remained quiet, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “My parents told me about it on their surprise visit this week.”