Page 170 of Nine Months to Love

“Because pregnancy is very taxing on the body. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I know. It’s actually my job to know, funny enough.”

She scowls at me for a moment, then waves a dismissive hand. “Well, you’re young. You’ll bounce back. Anyways, I had something I wanted to tell you.”

I cringe. Vague statements like that only ever come before bad news, as far as my mother is concerned. I have no idea what bombshell she’s about to drop on me, but I know it won’t be good.

Life-ruining news coming in three, two, one…

“I wanted to apologize,” she continues. “About the other night. Dinner at the house.”

My jaw nearly drops before I collect myself. She may have a PhD, an MD, and an MBA, but I honestly didn’t know my mother knew the meaning of the word “apologize.”

“What about it?” I ask cautiously, still fearing a trap.

“I may have pushed a bit too hard. Stefan seemed upset when he left.”

Upsetis putting it mildly. He’d practically dragged me out of there.

“It’s fine,” I lie.

“Is it? Because I’d hate to think I caused any friction between you two.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good. Stefan is a wonderful man. Brilliant. Successful. Exactly the kind of partner you need.”

I want to tell her that Stefan is way more than all that. That he’s complicated and damaged and terrifying and tender all at once. He’s not some trophy to parade around at cocktail parties.

But I don’t. Margaret wouldn’t understand.

“I’m glad you think so,” I say instead.

She smiles. Then her gaze drops to my left hand. I watch her eyes nearly fall out of their sockets.

“Is that—” She grabs my hand and yanks it closer. “Oh my God. Is that an engagement ring?”

I forgot she hadn’t seen it yet. I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I haven’t even thought about telling her.

“Yes,” I admit. “Stefan proposed. In Italy.”

Margaret lets out a girlish sound I’ve never heard from her before. “Olivia! This is wonderful! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We just got back. And then Elena was shot. It hasn’t exactly been the right time.”

“Nonsense! There’s always time for good news.” She’s still gripping my hand, examining the ring from every angle. “This is exquisite. Absolutely exquisite. He has excellent taste. When’s the wedding? We’ll need to start planning immediately. These things take time.”

“Mom—”

“I’m thinking the Grand Ballroom at the Four Seasons. Or maybe the Fairmont. We’ll need at least a thousand guests. Your father and I know everyone in this city. And Stefan’s connections?—”

“Mom.”

“—we’ll need a live band, of course. And flowers. Lots of flowers. White roses, maybe. Or orchids. Do you like orchids?”

“Mom!” She stops and looks at me. “I don’t want a big wedding,” I say firmly.

Her face falls. “What?”