The next night
Sante held a bouquet of flowers in his hand. At the same time, he lifted the back of my palm to his lips and pressed a kiss. The door swung open, and Mom greeted me, then Sante.
“Come inside; the food is almost ready.”
“Thank you for having me over, Ms. Clark.” Sante handed the flowers over.
“Well, when my daughter told me she was planning to get married, I thought it would be nice to meet you formally.”
I removed my wedding ring and slipped it in my purse before we got out of the car.
“We—”
I cut Sante off and cleared my throat.
“Mom, what did you cook?”
Both of them looked at me strangely.
“Pot roast with brussel sprouts.”
“Sounds great.”
“Sante, tell me what you do exactly. Last time we met still plays in my head.” She motioned to the couch, and we sat, while
