Promises We Meant To Keep (A Lancaster Prep Novel)

“I’M NERVOUS.”

I glance over at Sylvie to see that she is indeed visibly nervous. She’s shuffling her feet from side to side, shaking out her hands every few seconds, like she’s got sweaty palms.

I’m guessing she does.

I grab one of her hands, noting the clammy palm, and give it a squeeze. “It’s just my mother.”

We’re in the elevator on our way up to her penthouse at this very moment.

“Do you realize I’ve never met her? Not even once? Whit has. He said she’s a dragon lady.” The worry in my woman’s gaze is almost comical. Whit’s description of my mother even more so.

“He lied to you.” I lift her hand to my lips, dropping a kiss on the top of it. “She’s not a dragon lady. She’s sweet. My father is the one to watch out for.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” Her smile is weak and she startles when the elevator jolts to a stop, the doors sliding open. “Oh God.”

I give her hand a squeeze and lead her out of the elevator, stopping in front of the single door in the short hallway. Before I even get a chance to knock, the door swings open and my mother is standing there, a welcoming smile on her face.

“Spencer!” Her gaze cuts to Sylvie, curious. Vaguely assessing. “And you must be Sylvie.”

“Yes.” Sylvie’s voice is shaky and she lets go of my hand, a soft “oh” falling from her lips when my mother yanks her into her arms and gives her a fierce hug. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Aren’t you a precious little doll?” Mom holds Sylvie at arms’ length, studying her. “Oh Spencer, she’s lovely.”

“Mom, she’s standing right in front of you. Don’t talk about her like she’s not here.”

“Sorry, sorry. Come in.” Mom lets go of Sylvie and we follow her inside. I shut the door behind us, turning the lock. Valerie Donato is big on safety. Locks and security alarms and cameras. Her building is one of the most secure in all of Manhattan and she chose it for a reason. The wrath of her ex-husband’s enemies terrifies her, and I don’t blame her.

Though they’re not interested in her any longer thanks to my father not being interested in her either. Like he told me, women are a liability. Problem is, I can’t live without the one standing next to me, so I’m willing to take the chance.

“You kids want something to drink?” Mom calls as she heads for the kitchen.

Sylvie sends me a look, her lips curved into a faint smile.

“Got any beer?” I ask her.

“Spencer, I am not serving you beer. It’s lunch time. Have some iced tea,” she chastises as she opens the refrigerator.

Sylvie and I stand at the kitchen counter, and I roll my eyes, making Syl giggle. “We’re not kids anymore. I can legally drink. So can Sylvie.”

“I’ll just have iced tea,” Sylvie says, eager to please.

Mom grabs a glass and fills it with ice before pouring the tea in, the ice crackling at first contact. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Then she pours me a glass too.

“I made a nice lasagna.” Mom isn’t the one with Italian roots in the family, but living with my father all those years honed her Italian cooking skills. “It’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

“I knew I smelled something cooking when we first walked in.” Sylvie takes a sip of her drink. “I can’t wait. I’m starved.”

“Me too.” Mom is a good cook. That’s about as far as her parenting skills took her.

I shouldn’t be so tough on her. Living and dealing with my father had to be rough. He’s demanding and volatile, and he took a lot of frustration with his work out on my mother. It was difficult to witness as a kid. After a while, I was grateful they sent me away to school. It was easier that way. They were so wrapped up in making each other miserable, and a lot of the time, I was miserable too.

Now they’re much happier without each other, and my relationship with both of them is better. Mom and I are still a work in progress though. I don’t see her Monday through Friday like I do my dad.

The moment I called her and said I wanted her to meet my girlfriend—still don’t love that description for Sylvie, feels cheap to me—I know Mom went and told my dad. Which was my plan all along. He said I wasn’t serious until I brought Sylvie around my mother so here you go, Dad. Proving to you that I’m dead ass serious.

Maybe that’ll get him to stop saying shitty things about my future wife. He opens his mouth again and utters something crude about her, there’s no telling what I might do to him.

“Sit, sit. I have appetizers.” Mom brings over an antipasto plate, and I grab a couple of slices of salami, fortifying myself for the onslaught of questions she’s about to ask Sylvie. “Spencer says you two have known each other a long time.”

“We have,” Sylvie admits, plucking a green olive from the plate and popping it into her mouth.

“Since high school?”

“I met him when I was in the eighth grade and he was a freshman at Lancaster,” Sylvie says after she swallows the olive. “He’s my brother’s best friend.”

“Right, Whit Lancaster.” Mom shakes her head, her lips curved in a barely-there smile. “I have a feeling those two were up to no good back then.”

The smile on Sylvie’s face falters and I silently curse my mother’s comment.

“He’s a married man now, Ma.” I haven’t called her Ma in years. She used to hate that shit and the irritation in her eyes tells me she still feels the same way. “And a dad.”

“You’re close to your brother?” Mom asks Sylvie.

“I am. I also have a younger sister,” Sylvie says.

“That’s nice. And what about your parents? Are you close to them? How about your mother? I always did want a daughter. A sweet little girl to dress up, a shopping buddy, you know? Instead, I got this guy.” Mom reaches out and ruffles my hair, and I duck away after a few seconds.

“My parents…” Sylvie’s voice drifts and she shakes her head. “I’m not as close to them as I used to be.”

Close enough to the truth.

“Aw, that’s a shame.” Mom is funny. She always talks about family, and how important it is. What a difference it makes in the way a person is raised, and how they act. Yet she wasn’t the most attentive mother during my growing up years, and she knows it. Her theories don’t make much sense, but I don’t bother questioning her.

“It’s okay. I’ve learned to deal with it. My father and I are working on repairing our relationship.” Sylvie’s gaze finds mine and I send her a reassuring smile. She’s handling this first meeting with my mother really well, not that I was worried about it. Not like she was.

“And how about your mother?”

“I don’t know if that relationship can ever be repaired,” Sylvie admits, her voice soft.

The look Mom sends me tells me she wishes she would’ve never opened her mouth and asked that question.

Yeah. I feel the same way.

“Well, tell me more about you and Spencer!” Mom says brightly, not realizing she’s opening another can of worms. “You two make such a nice couple.”

“It’s more than that.” I decide to be forthright. “I’m in love with her, Ma.”

She blinks at me. I’ve never brought a girl around before, and definitely never said I was in love with any of them either. “I guess you two aren’t wasting any time then?”

“We’ve wasted enough time already.” I slide my arm around Sylvie’s shoulders, tugging her close to my side. “We’re living together.”

“Oh.” Mom blinks some more. “Well, that’s certainly your business, though you know how I feel about that sort of thing.”

I try not to roll my eyes because come on. She’s really not that old fashioned. “Don’t worry. I’m going to make everything right between us eventually.”

“And you’re in love with Spencer?” Mom asks Sylvie.

That is still a sensitive subject with her, confessing her feelings. I get it. She’s used to living in a house where people didn’t say I love you on a constant basis.

I didn’t much either, but when it comes to this woman, I’m afraid I want to declare my love for her almost too much.

“Mom—”

“I can answer for myself,” Sylvie interrupts, sending me a serene smile before turning it onto my mother. “I am madly in love with him, Mrs. Donato. I’ve been in love with him for years, though to be perfectly honest with you, I married someone else a couple of years ago.”

Well shit. Leave it to Sylvie to throw everything out on the table, so to speak.

“You’ve already been married?” Mom’s voice squeaks.

Sylvie nods. “Yes. It was a major mistake though. I was young, and I was sort of—forced into the matter. Plus, he was so much older than me, and unfortunately, he died a little over a year after we were married. Thank goodness Spencer and I reconnected though. My feelings for him have never faded.”

“Oh. Well. Yes, that’s so nice,” Mom says faintly. I can tell from the dazed look on her face that her mind is trying to process everything Sylvie just told her. “If Spencer is bringing you here to meet me, then he must be very serious about you. And I’m happy for you bo—”

The oven timer sounds, snapping Mom into go-mode.

“Lasagna’s done,” I tell her.

“And I still haven’t finished prepping the salad.” Mom rushes to the oven, turning off the timer and opening the door to peek inside. “I should let it rest for a few minutes anyway. It’s going to be piping hot.”

Mom bustles around the kitchen, refusing our help and I offer to show Sylvie my bedroom, which is really a replica of the one I used to have in our old apartment. Mom moved everything over and kept my room almost exactly how I left it when I moved out a few years ago. Like it’s a museum piece or something.

“I’d love to see it,” Sylvie says, relief shining in her eyes.

The moment we’re walking down the hall headed for my bedroom, Sylvie is tugging on my hand, urging me to stop.

“You okay?” I ask her.

“Do you think she likes me?” Sylvie chews on her lower lip. “I probably shouldn’t have told her about Earl.”

“I think it was the right move. She would’ve found out eventually.” I pull her in close, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “She likes you.”

“We barely talked. I just—I’m so nervous.” She slumps against the wall, like she needs it to hold her up. “I’ve never met a mother before.”

“I know.”

“It’s nerve-wracking. She seems nice, but I just want her approval. I want her happy with her son’s choice. You’re her only son. This is kind of a big deal.”

“It’s not like we’re getting married, Syl. It’s all gonna be okay.” I smirk, waiting for her outburst, which comes in seconds.

“What the hell, Spence, are you serious? You said—”

I cut her off with my lips, kissing her until she’s clinging to the front of my shirt, a low whimper sounding in the back of her throat. “I’m just teasing,” I murmur against her mouth, nibbling on her upper lip. “I’m going to make an honest woman of you someday. Just wait. It’s going to happen.”

She swats at my chest, her eyes sparkling. A few weeks ago, I would’ve never been able to tease her like this. She’s come a long way, my Syl.

Then again, so have I.

“Spencer! Sylvie! Lunch is ready!” Mom calls from the kitchen.

Sylvie’s gaze finds mine once more, her lips curved into a faint smile. “I’ve never had a mother make me lunch before.”

“Her homemade lasagna is out of this world. My father still talks about it,” I tell her, leaning in to steal another kiss. She pushes at my shoulders, laughing.

“Come on.” She pulls away from me, taking my hand and leading me back to the kitchen. “I’m starved.”

“We didn’t get a chance to check out my room,” I protest as she drags me down the hall.

“We can do that after lunch,” Sylvie says, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Maybe I’ll even let you kiss me in your room.”

“If I can only be so lucky,” I tease her, loving this light and airy version of Sylvie.

I do need to make an honest woman of her.

Soon.