Sitting on the marble kitchen counter, the pricey cream-colored cardboard with embossed golden stamp screamed relevance. I looked at it, my stomach knotting itself.
"What is this?," ask I asked, plucking it gently as if it may blow up.
Noah's voice floated calm and unhurried from the living room. "Your first meeting with my family."
Turning to see him sloppily leaning against the sofa's rear, I saw a glass of whisky hanging from his fingers. Though his stance screamed simplicity, there was a planned look in his eyes that made me feel like a chess piece being positioned.
"My introduction?," ask I repeated, the words alien in my tongue. "We have less than a week married, and right now I am expected to... what? Change your family's mind?
His lips bent to produce a weak, devoid of humour grin. Precisely.
My irritation spilling over, I slapped the envelope down on the counter. You could not have cautioned me about this? Given some time to be ready?
He said, unshakable, "You're prepared enough." "You will respond only to the questions you are asked, smile when needed, and wear something sophisticated. They will like you.
"They'd like me?" I went back and again dumbfounded. "That's the intended course of action?"
His eyes locked tight, the teasing edge disappearing. "This supper is not about Isla, either. It relates to us. Our marriage needs to seem perfect, or else everything collapses. You are suited for handling it.
Once again, there was his unflinching faith in my performance, like if I were an actor given a screenplay.
I said, grasping the envelope like a lifeline, "I hope you're right."
The tense hours before the meal passed in a haze. Noah had set up a stylist to show there—a refined lady who paid more time evaluating me than talking. She pulled out a sleek black dress with simple but elegant design that just had the perfect level of refinement to scream Mrs. Blackwood.
She said, "You'll look perfect," with a tight-lipped grin that left no space for debate in her voice.
The change stared back at me as I stood before the full-length mirror. The figure in the mirror was absolutely alien, poised and polished.
"Does it satisfy your needs?," When Noah showed up at the doorway, I questioned him.
His eyes went head to toe over me, his attitude incomprehensible. "It's gonna do."
Though the weight of his inspection persisted, I rolled my eyes.
The Blackwood estate vehicle journey was stifling. As usual, Noah sat next to me, cool and collected; I fidgeted with the hem of my dress.
"Any final-minute guidance?" My voice reflecting my anxiety, I asked.
"Don't overshare," he said, rather succinctly.
Noted.
Ahead, the Blackwood estate loomed, a large home encircled by well kept gardens and wrought-iron gates. It was the type of establishment that exuded money and intimidation, which made me feel even more little than I do now.
At the entrance a butler welcomed us and led us into a magnificent dining room shining with polished wood and crystal chandeliers. The Blackwoods were seated already, their keen eyes evaluating.
Eleanor Blackwood, Noah's mother, got the first word out. She was the height of chilly elegance; Noah's grey eyes reflected her but colder, sharper.
"This is your wife," she replied, her voice tinged with incredulity.
Indeed, Noah said, his voice steady. "Isla, see my mother here."
I held out my hand and forced a nice grin. "It's nice to meet Mrs. Blackwood."
Her handshake was quick, her eyes lingering as if she were looking for holes in my front.
Noah said, pointing to a younger lady with the same piercing eyes but a playful sparkle that softened them: "And this is my sister, Charlotte."
Though somewhat curious, Charlotte's grin was real. Here is the family welcome.
Thank you; the little warmth in her voice soothed me.
Edward Blackwood, the patriarch, barely nodded at me and turned his attention back to his wine glass.
The talk moved towards politeness and subdued questions when the dishes were presented. Eleanor led the charge, her probing enquiries crisp.
Her tone laden with contempt, "What do you do, Isla?" she inquired.
Keeping my voice calm, I said, "I run a graphic design studio."
Her eyebrows arched. " fascinating. And specifically how did you and Noah meet?
Though Noah spoke before I could respond, my heart flew. "We met through mutual acquaintances," he added effortlessly, his tone free of opportunity for explanation.
Eleanor looked at us, distrust glittering in her eyes. "See."
Sensing the conflict, Charlotte guided the discussion into less weighty subjects. She replied, her grin kind, "Your dress is amazing."
I said, appreciative of the break: "Thank you."
Still, it was a fleeting moment. Edward answered last, his strong voice demanding attention.
"Noah," he remarked with a stern voice, "you have past brave judgements, but this marriage seems impetuous. What do you want to accomplish?
Tension in the air thickened as everyone looked to Noah.
"I'm not hoping to achieve anything," Noah answered, his voice calm yet tinged with power. "I already have it." I anticipate your support; Isla and I are dedicated to start a life together.
His comments were a subdued challenge, asking anybody to probe him more closely. Eleanor seemed momentarily lost for a rejoinder as well.
I sat still, his comment weighing heavily. He was safeguarding our story, indeed, but his tone suggested something more nearly personal.
Eleanor trapped me close to the hearth as the evening drew to an end, her eyes keen and uncompromising.
"I'll be straight forward, Isla," she stated gently. "I have no faith in you. Though Noah misled you, I saw through you.
Her comments hurt, but I stayed ground. "With all due regard, Mrs. Blackwood, Noah doesn't need your approval—or mine."
Her lips thinned, but before she could reply Noah showed up at my side, his presence immediately diffused the stress.
His tone kind but incisive, he questioned, "Is everything all right?"
Perfectly, I responded, faking a grin.
Eleanor nodded tightly and turned away, although the warning stayed in her gaze.
The quiet between Noah and me was intolerable on the car trip home. Unable to hold the enquiry within any more, I turned at last to him.
"Why did you back-off defending me?"
His mouth contracted, his eyes fixated forward. "Because it won't be because of them if this falls apart."
The mysterious response left me spinning, thoughts whirling in my head as the city lights flashed by the window.
I had signed up for precisely what?