A Beautiful Star (Beautiful Series, Book 5) (12 page)

Put some clothes on. I’m taking you out.
My phone tells me, interrupting my Sunday morning thoughts as I sit and make a list of what I need to pack for LA and what I need to do before I go.

Leaving the country for so long is a huge undertaking, and while Jonathan has told me his people can help me make my plans, I’d really rather do it myself so I don’t worry constantly that something was missed.

Setting my pen aside, I tap the message on the screen so I can reply.

Me:
What kind of clothes? Where are we going?

Jonathan:
Something nice. I’m taking you to meet my parents.

Me:
Is this some kind of joke?

Jonathan
No. I’ll be there in ten.

Holy hell. I’m about to meet his parents. As if temporarily relocating with him to another country wasn’t intense enough, things just got way more serious.

I rush into my bedroom and begin sifting through my wardrobe for something to wear, deciding that my clothes are either too serious, or too flirty, or too dowdy, or too basic. I don’t want them to think I’m just a blonde bimbo who’s only with their son because of his fame when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Pulling off my clothes, I try on a tan summer dress that has a pretty white floral pattern around the trim then I pull it off again, deciding that it’s too short and too immature for a meeting with parents. Oh god. Why am I so nervous about this?

“Now,
that
isn’t going to be OK,” Jonathan comments, as he appears in my bedroom doorway and finds me standing in my bra and panties. “There is no way I’ll be able to keep my intentions pure if you’re only wearing that.” He reaches out and grabs at the air comically, biting the knuckle on his other hand as he lets out a groan. “Oh god, it doesn’t matter, I’m going to be thinking about how sexy you look in those little pink panties, Red. I just…I can’t…put something on!” He slaps his hand over his eyes and reaches out to shut my door. “I’ll be waiting out here, trying to get my hard-on to go down.”

Smiling, I shake my head as I make a snap decision to wear an A-line pale blue and white dress that comes down to my knees and a pair of white sandals to go with it. I pull my blonde hair up into a loose bun and put on minimal makeup. When I step back and survey myself in the mirror, I think I’m about as ready as I’m going to get.

Leaving my mess of a room, I step out into the living room where Jonathan is waiting for me. “Perfect,” he says, standing up to slide his hands around my waist and kiss me. “But I’m still seeing those panties when I look at you, Red, so.fucking.hot,” he growls into my ear, causing me to blush and burn for him at the same time.

“We could always stay here and…you know. You’ve held off for a while.”

“You don’t know how much I want to take you up on that offer, Red, but that would be too easy, and I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“I feel ready.”

He looks down at me, studying my face as his fingers gently brush along my jawline. “It’s still too soon,” he whispers, reaching down to take my hand in his. “Come on, they’ll be waiting for us.”

I bite my lips in a smile and follow him out to the car where he holds the door open for me. I feel like a teenager when I’m with him. We’re doing adult things and making adult decisions but the waiting, the anticipation, remind me of a time when sex was something you only did when you felt sure you were in love.

I like it.

***

“This is it,” Jonathan states as he slows his car to a stop by the curb in front of a very modest looking brown brick, 80s style house.

“Really?” I respond, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.

“Not what you expected?”

“No,” I admit. “I expected something grand with a circular driveway and a white columned entrance.”

He lets out a laugh and reaches over to point past me. “See that tree over there? I used to climb it with my brothers and we’d throw water balloons at passers-by. When I was seven, the branch broke and I fell down and broke my wrist. See that lemon tree? We used to pick them in the summer and eat them straight off the tree. They were sweet like lemonade.”

“So this is where you grew up.”

“Yeah. I offered to buy my parents a fancy house in a fancy suburb, but they weren’t interested. They built this with their own money and raised three boys in it. They don’t want to leave.”

He looks up at the house that used to be his home and I can see the happiness it holds for him.

“You must have had a really great childhood.”

“We were ratbags. My poor mum used to try and keep us in line and she’d whack us all with the wooden spoon, but she gave up pretty fast because we just stole all her spoons and threw them over the fence.”

“She hit you with a wooden spoon?” I question in surprise.

“It wasn’t like that. It never hurt, we were all ruff-nuts. We drove her to the end of her tether constantly.”

“Hey, Jon-o,” a voice calls to the left of the car. “You coming in, or making out with your girlfriend? If you are, can I take some pictures? I could sell them for a few bucks, I reckon.”

Jonathan hits a button and the electric window on my side slides down to reveal a young Jonathan-look-a-like with slightly longer hair but just as charming a smile.

“How’s it going, Darc,” Jonathan smiles through the window. “This is Sandra. Sandra, this is my youngest brother, Darcy. You can call him ‘Darc’ like the rest of us do.”

“Hi,” I say in greeting as I offer him my hand and he shakes it rapidly.

“Come inside. Mum’s been cooking up a storm. She’s all excited that you’re bringing a girl home.”

I give Darcy a questioning look and he explains, “He didn’t bother bringing the last one around at all, and the one before that. He hid until they were engaged and the papers told us.”

My eyebrows shoot up in an expression that I hope reads,
are you serious?

In response, Jonathan shrugs and has the decency to look a little sheepish, but secretly, I’m a little happy. It means he really is serious about me if he’s bringing me to meet his family already.

“Let’s go inside,” he says. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of them.”

We get out of the car, and he clasps my hand, entwining our fingers securely as he leads me into the house to meet the rest of his family, as Darcy regales us with tales of his latest football match and how his team stormed the field and won against a supposedly unbeatable team.

“He wants to go professional,” Jonathan tells me as an aside when we make it to the front door and Darcy yells that we’re here.

As we walk through the door, I’m pleased to see the comfortable surroundings that are really similar to Jonathan’s own place. Although, on the walls here, are photos upon photos of family memories. As I take a quick sweep of the images, it’s hard for me to tell which brother is which because they all look so much alike.

Still holding my hand, Jonathan takes me with him, following Darcy through to the kitchen and dining area where the rest of his family are busy either eating or preparing food.

“Hello!” his mother calls and there’s a chorus of greeting, hugging and backslapping between each member of the family before they all look to me, ready for Jonathan to make the introductions.

“Everyone, this is Sandra. Sandra, I’d like you to meet my middle brother, Coop, or Cooper if you want to be formal.” Coop is another Jonathan clone. I tell him hello and shake his hand politely. “This is my dad, Bill,” he continues.

“Short for ‘William’,” I assume with a smile, and Bill lets out a chuckle as he takes my hand and leans in to kiss my cheek.

“She catches on good this one. Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” he booms, his salt and pepper hair flopping about his stubbled face as his blue eyes shine down at me welcomingly.

“And this,” Jonathan moves on, “is my mother, Molly. There’s no long or short of her name. She’s just ‘Molly’. Someone tried to call her ‘Mols’ once and they got slapped for it, so no one changes her name anymore.” Jonathan gives me a wink as Molly draws me against her short soft body in a warm hug.

“It’s so lovely to meet you. Molly is actually short for Margaret, but I won’t answer if you call me that,” she smiles, and I see that she too, has blue eyes and her slightly greying hair still has a healthy mix of blonde in there, making it unnecessary for any sort of colouring.

“Well, you got here just in time, son,” Bill says to Jonathan with a clap on his back. “We’re just about to fire up the barbie. You can help check the gas lines before we start.”

He nods and gently squeezes my hand before releasing me with a kiss to the side of my head.

“Please don’t set any of the trees on fire this time,” Molly calls out after them as they all file out of the kitchen leaving their mother and me on our own. “They’re a menace to society with that barbeque,” she comments, craning her neck to see what they’re doing. “I swear, when they get together they barely have a full brain between them.”

Smiling, I watch through the window as Jonathan puts one of his brothers in a headlock and rubs his knuckles on the top of his head. They’re all smiling and laughing and I begin to understand how wrong the media is about Jonathan. The man he is with his family, and the man he is with me, is the real him, the rest is a persona, and I’m beginning to feel very blessed to be a part of the warm, caring and fun loving man that is the real Jonathan Masters.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask, turning away from the window, and I find Molly watching me with slight amusement as if she was just reading my thoughts.

She doesn’t comment though, she simply points to the other side of the bench and answers my question. “Sure. Why don’t you grab those tomatoes over there and get cutting.”

I do as she says, being careful not to squish the tomatoes and get them all over my dress. “How many should I do?”

“The whole bag,” she answers, bustling about the kitchen herself.

“How many people are coming?”

“Oh, it’s just us. But when you see those boys eat, you’ll understand the need for all this food,” she smiles, placing a tray of meat on the counter before washing her hands then picking up two heads of lettuce and shifting to the sink.

“So, how long have you and my son been together?” she asks after a while.

“Oh, we’ve just been getting to know each other mostly, but I’d say we’ve crossed over to dating territory during the last couple of weeks.”

“And you’re not pregnant?”

“No,” I answer quickly, almost choking from the surprise of her abrupt question.

“OK, so you’re only in dating
territory
. Do you care to elaborate on that?” Her questions are abrasive and I wonder if the kind act was for the sake of her sons, but I’ve dealt with difficult interviews before, hell, I’ve conducted difficult interviews before, so I can handle anything she can throw at me.

“It just means that we became friends first, and slowly, we’re becoming more. But we’re not rushing things,” I explain.

“I see. That’s probably a good thing. I’m assuming you’ve heard about my son’s reputation.”

“Yes. I know all about it.”

“Then why are you with him?”

“Because I like him. He likes me. And we just…click together, you know? It’s hard to explain. Honestly, I did have my reservations at first, and perhaps I still do. But it’s why we’re taking things slow. We’re learning to trust.”

She takes a moment to study my face, as if she’s reading my intentions on the surface of my skin, then she nods, as if she has her answer and continues with the salad.

“He has it in him, you know–the ability to be faithful. He was just too young for a commitment like that before,” she says, tearing apart one of the heads of lettuce and rinsing it underneath some running water. “I’ve always thought that all he needed was to find that one woman who makes him forget about all others. Then he would settle down for good and become the man I know he can be.”

“I believe that too,” I smile as I hold out the salad spinner for her to place the loose leaves in.

“I’m glad. You must be very special, you know. Especially if he’s bringing you around this soon. He never introduces us to his girls unless he absolutely has to. We met the Marx girl after they were already engaged and the papers found out, and he wouldn’t even let us talk to that Weston woman he was supposedly with after that.
Pfft.
A publicity stunt,” she mutters, “I’ve never heard of something so absurd in my life.”

“It happens all the time unfortunately. Celebrities fake relationships for the sake of the cameras, but in private they don’t have anything to do with each other.”

“It’s not something I condone at all,” she titches, just as the noise from outside comes nearer the house and the first person inside is Jonathan.

Rubbing his hands together as if he’s dusting off imaginary dirt, he looks between his mother and I. “We’ll this is nice. Getting along I hope.”

“I like her Jonathan. You can relax,” Molly says, turning to me and giving me a wink to let me know I passed. A sense of relief washes over me and I smile before looking to Jonathan, and I can actually see the relief on his face as well. And I realise how huge this meeting was for the both of us. His family is obviously a really important part of his life and if I’m going to be with him, I need to fit in. Thankfully, it seems I do.