Fifteen minutes later, Nick came in search of his fiancée. She wasn't in the kitchen helping his mother with dinner, so he headed to the salon and found her seated on the sofa, staring sightlessly out the window. Silent tears streamed down her face.
Alarmed, Nick placed one hand on her arm. “What's wrong, chérie?”
“This isn't going to work, Nick,” she said, and her voice caught on a sob. “I can't stay here.”
“Breanne, we've only been here a few days. You have to give it time. Did you think it would be easy?”
She shook her head, dark hair tumbling around her shoulders. “It's not that.”
“What then?”
“Your mother. She hates me.”
He tucked one finger under her chin, lifting her face so she could look into his eyes. “Oh, I don't think so. She's very reserved, you know? It will take her a
