Mrs Miller looks just as I remember.
She's too beautiful for her age, and even though her perfect make-up exaggerates her beauty, it's easy to tell that she was one hot woman before age started catching up with her.
Her eyes settle on our entwined hands for a long second before she steps aside to let us in.
"Brent, your father is in the study. I'm sure he'd like a word with you. Camille, do you mind a glass of champagne? We girls need to have a chat."
"She can't have champagne because she's pregnant." Brent points out.
"Oh, my bad! She can have a soft drink then. Brent, study, now!"
I nod at him when he hesitates.
"I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely."
He eyes his mother uncomfortably before he walks away. We both stand there watching him, and I'm very aware of the scowl
