Page 32 of Worth the Wait (Worth It All #2)

Sunday evening finds me standing in my parents’ foyer with Lianne. She looks beautiful in a navy dress that’s elegant without being flashy, her hair swept up in a style that suggests confidence rather than anxiety.

But I can feel the tension in her shoulders, see the careful way she’s controlling her breathing.

“They’re going to love you,” I murmur, taking her hand.

“Your mother is going to tolerate me because you forced her to invite me,” she replies with the kind of honesty that makes me love her more. “There’s a difference.”

She’s not lying. I did force my mother to invite Lianne. The woman I love , were my precise words.

But before I can tell her that, the living room doors open and my father appears, his expression warm and welcoming.

“Lianne, how lovely to see you again. Thank you for joining us tonight.”

“Thank you for including me, Mr. Judd. I appreciate the invitation.”

The politeness is perfect, professional, exactly the kind of gracious response my mother values. But underneath it, I can hear the wariness of someone preparing for judgment.

We move into the living room where my mother waits, elegant in cream silk, her smile carrying the careful neutrality of someone determined to be appropriate regardless of personal feelings.

“Miss Peralta. Welcome to our home.”

“Mrs. Judd. Thank you for having me. Your orchid arrangements are stunning—the white phalaenopsis by the windows are particularly beautiful.”

My mother’s expression shifts slightly, genuine pleasure replacing diplomatic courtesy. “You know orchids?”

“I work with florists frequently for events. I’ve learned that phalaenopsis are challenging to maintain but create such an elegant impact when they’re healthy. These are clearly well cared for.”

It’s a small moment, but I can see my mother processing the fact that Lianne noticed details she cares about, spoke knowledgeably about something beyond professional necessity.

“Uncle Cameron!” The voice from the hallway announces Sophia’s arrival, followed immediately by the sound of small feet running toward us.

“Alessandra!” I scoop up my three-year-old niece, who launches herself at my legs with the fearless enthusiasm of someone who knows she’ll be caught. “How’s my favorite girl?”

“We brought cookies!” she announces, then notices Lianne and grows suddenly shy, pressing her face against my shoulder.

“Alessandra, this is my friend Lianne. Can you say hello?”

My niece peeks at Lianne with the careful assessment of someone deciding whether a new person is trustworthy.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi, Alessandra. I saw pictures of your birthday party—the ferris wheel looked amazing. Did you get to ride it?”

“Lots of times!” The shyness disappears immediately. “And there was cotton candy and ponies and a magic show!”

“That sounds like the best birthday party ever. I help plan parties sometimes, but I’ve never done one with a ferris wheel. That must have been so special.”

Sophia appears in the doorway, looking polished but with the slightly frazzled air of someone who’s been dealing with toddler logistics. When she sees Lianne, her expression shifts to recognition and something that might be relief.

“Lianne Peralta. I wondered if I’d see you again.”

“Sophia. Congratulations on everything—your beautiful family, your work with the foundation. Alessandro seems like a wonderful partner.”

“He is. Though he’s running late tonight because someone had a soccer emergency.

” Sophia moves closer, her tone becoming warmer.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out actually.

The nonprofit board I’m on is looking for an event planner for our annual fundraiser.

After what you created for my wedding, and what I heard about Cameron’s gala last weekend. ..”

“I’d be honored to discuss it with you.”

“Perfect. We should set up a lunch meeting this week.”

The exchange happens naturally, professionally, but I can see my mother observing every detail. Lianne fitting into business conversation with family members, being sought out for her expertise, treated as an equal rather than a social climber requiring accommodation.

Dinner proceeds with conversation that carefully avoids anything too personal or potentially controversial—the weather, upcoming events, Alessandra’s preschool activities.

Alessandro arrives just as we’re sitting down, apologizing for the delay and greeting Lianne with the warm directness of someone who makes friends easily.

“Cameron’s told us so much about you,” he says, settling into his chair. “The Sterling Industries event sounds like it was incredible. Five hundred guests and everything flawless? I can barely coordinate dinner for six people.”

“It helps to have an amazing team,” Lianne replies. “And months of preparation. Though I have to admit, there were moments when I wasn’t sure we’d pull it off.”

“What was the most challenging part?” Sophia asks, and suddenly we’re deep in conversation about event logistics and vendor coordination and the kind of behind-the-scenes complexity that most people never consider.

My parents listen as Lianne describes the intricacies of managing multiple timelines, the diplomatic skills required to coordinate competing vendor egos, the strategic thinking involved in creating experiences that exceed expectations while staying within budget constraints.

“It sounds like running a small corporation,” my father observes.

“Some events feel exactly like that. You’re managing dozens of moving parts, hundreds of people, million-dollar budgets, all while ensuring that the final experience feels effortless and magical.

” Lianne’s passion for her work shows in the way her entire demeanor becomes more animated.

“The clients should never see the complexity behind what they’re experiencing. ”

“Like conducting an orchestra,” my mother says quietly. “All the individual musicians, different instruments, complex music, but the audience only hears the harmony.”

“That’s a perfect analogy,” Lianne says, grinning. “I’m borrowing that for client presentations.”

It’s the first moment of genuine connection between them, and my mother leans forward slightly, her questions becoming more engaged rather than merely polite.

The conversation shifts to family topics—Alessandra’s upcoming preschool graduation, Alessandro’s latest architectural project, Sophia’s work with environmental nonprofits.

Lianne listens with the kind of engaged attention that makes people feel valued, asking thoughtful questions that demonstrate genuine interest rather than polite small talk.

As the evening winds down, Sophia pulls me aside while the adults discuss coffee preferences and Alessandro helps Alessandra choose a cookie from the dessert tray.

“I like her,” she says quietly. “She’s different from four years ago—more confident, more established in who she is. But the kindness is the same. The way she pays attention to people.”

“You remember her well from your wedding.”

“I remember thinking she was perfect for you, and being disappointed when things didn’t work out.” Sophia glances toward the living room where Lianne is discussing orchid care with our mother. “I’m glad you found your way back to each other.”

“So am I. Though I nearly screwed it up again.”

“But you didn’t. And this time, you’re both old enough to fight for what matters.”

When we rejoin the others, I find my mother and Lianne in what appears to be a detailed discussion about sustainable event practices and vendor relationships that support local businesses.

“Lianne was telling me about some innovative approaches to reducing waste at large celebrations,” my mother says as we approach. “The environmental impact of events is something I’d never really considered.”

“It’s becoming increasingly important to clients, especially younger ones. They want celebrations that reflect their values, not just their budgets.”

“That’s very thoughtful. And practical from a business perspective.”

The approval in my mother’s voice is subtle but unmistakable. Lianne has passed some internal test, demonstrated that her business philosophy aligns with values my mother respects.

As we prepare to leave, my parents walk us to the door with the kind of gracious warmth that suggests the evening exceeded their expectations.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner,” Lianne says. “I enjoyed meeting your family, and I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”

“I hope so too,” my mother replies, and I can hear genuine sentiment rather than mere politeness. “Cameron, bring Lianne to the museum fundraiser next month. I think she’d enjoy the exhibition, and it would be nice to introduce her to some of the other board members.”

The invitation is casual, almost an afterthought, but it represents everything I’d hoped for—inclusion in family social obligations, introduction to their broader social circle, acceptance as part of my future rather than a temporary complication.

“We’d love to attend,” I say, squeezing Lianne’s hand.

In the car driving back to her townhouse, Lianne is quiet for several minutes, processing what just happened.

“That went better than expected,” she says finally.

“They love you. Especially Alessandra—she’s going to be asking when you’re coming back to visit.”

“Your parents were very gracious. Your father’s easier to talk to than I expected, and your mother... she’s formidable, but I can see why you respect her opinions.”

“She invited you to the museum fundraiser. That’s her way of saying you’re officially part of the family social obligations.”

Lianne turns to look at me, something vulnerable in her expression. “Is that what this was? A test I had to pass?”

“It was me showing my family that you’re part of my life now, permanently and publicly. That they can welcome you gracefully or explain to their friends why their son’s girlfriend isn’t at family events.”

“And if they hadn’t welcomed me gracefully?”

“Then we would have built our own traditions. But I’m glad we don’t have to.”

When I walk her to her door, Lianne turns in my arms with the kind of smile I haven’t seen since before the gala—unguarded, hopeful, completely present.

“Thank you,” she says. “For fighting for us. For including me. For making me feel like I belong in your world instead of just visiting it.”

“You do belong. You’ve always belonged. I just needed to be brave enough to make sure everyone else knew it too.”

When I lean down to kiss her, she rises up to meet me, her hands sliding up to frame my face. The kiss starts gentle but quickly deepens, carrying all the longing and relief of weeks apart. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.

“Do you want to come in?” she whispers against my lips, her forehead resting against mine. “I don’t want tonight to end yet.”

The invitation in her voice is clear, and the desire I’ve been holding back all evening flares to life. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” She reaches behind her to unlock the door, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve missed you. All of you.”

As she opens the door and pulls me inside, her townhouse envelops us in familiar warmth.

“I love you,” I murmur as she closes the door behind us, my hands finding the zipper of her navy dress.

“Show me,” she breathes, and I’m more than happy to spend the rest of the night doing exactly that.