Free The Night Before Christian by Joy Avery Page A

breathes and pushing what’d taken place between
him and Emory to the back of his mind—for now—he exited the vehicle.
    When he entered his
grandmother’s house—an eight bedroom, ten bath mansion—he regretted not
cancelling. Could he really entertain a lecture right now? No. Not tonight.
Every hint of energy he’d possessed had been used to walk away from Emory. Could
he stay away? That was the million dollar question. God, he felt so trapped,
caged like a bird just wanting to be free.
    “You’re late,” his
grandmother said behind him. “And no call.”
    The woman was as light
on her feet as a ballerina. He rotated to face her. “I apologize,” he said, kissing
her cheek. “My phone died.”
    She cocked a brow. “ Really ?”
    As always, Amelia St.
Claire was her usual suspicious self. Christian beamed at the pecan-toned woman,
flawless from head to toe. “Is POTUS joining us for dinner?”
    “If the president were,
I’d be awfully embarrassed at the tardiness of my grandson. This is something I
expect from Chauncey, not you.”
    Chauncey and their
grandmother had always been like oil and water. He imagined it was because no
matter how hard she’d tried, she’d never been able to quite control Chauncey as
she had Christian. And it wasn’t so much that she was able to control Christian,
he simply found it less taxing to occasionally give in than to constantly wage
war with her. She didn’t go down without one hell of a fight.
    “Again, I apologize. I
lost track of time,” he said.
    “Very well. Come. Let’s
eat. I had Toliver keep dinner warm.”
    Inside the grand dining
room, Christian pulled out the chair for his grandmother. Once she settled, he
took a seat next to her.
    “I really dislike when
you do that,” she said.
    “Do what?” Of course he
already knew what she referred to.
    “You know what. Don’t
play dense with me. I dislike when you sit there. You should take your place at
the head of the table, opposite me.”
    “That was grandfather’s
seat. Besides, I like being close to you.”
    At the right angle, one
could consider the twitch at the corner of her lips a smile, something she did
infrequently. Though she hadn’t always been so serious.
    Over dinner, they
shared small talk: his settling into North Carolina, the construction of St.
Claire Aeronautics, the wedding. The latter caused Christian to lose his
appetite.
    “What’s wrong? Is the
duck not to your liking? I think it’s delicious.”
    “Gram, do you remember
Emory Chambers?”
    His grandmother placed
her fork down heavily, then dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
“Yes. I remember her.”
    Christian eyed her for
a moment. “You never cared for Emory. Why?”
    The woman didn’t
hesitate supplying an answer. “Because she wasn’t the perfect match for my
grandson.”
    “What you mean to say
is you didn’t think she was good enough for a St. Claire.”
    “No. I just didn’t think
she was good enough for you. Chauncey, maybe, but not you. Anyway, that no
longer matters. You’re marrying a lovely girl whom I happen to adore. One who
is quite suited for you.”
    Christian was certain
the only reason his grandmother adored Yasmin so much was because of her
last name. Like the St. Claire name, the Manchester name carried a lot of
weight and held status. And if there was one thing his grandmother flourished
on, it was status.
    “And speaking of your
bride, she misses you. Which is why I’ve had the jet fueled and a flight to Dubai
arranged. You leave tonight. I’ll have the driver take you to the airport.”
    Christian laughed.
“What? Surely, you don’t expect me to just pick up and fly to Dubai. Besides,
if Yasmin missed me so much, she would be here instead of seventeen hours away.”
    “She’s a supermodel,
Christian St. Claire. A highly sought after supermodel at that. You should be
thrilled that she is in such high demand.”
    “Ecstatic,” he said
dryly, downing the rest of his