Carved in Her Bones

Now -Rhian

The airport was bustling with the typical Saturday summer crowd, but Peter looked totally at ease amid the chaos. We moved toward the VIP lounge, and he insisted I walk in front of him "to keep an eye on me," he'd said with a grin. It was my first time in a VIP lounge; I'd always flown private before, thanks to my parents or the Philharmonic. It was...different, but exciting in its own way.

Walking to the bar, Peter ordered us both water. There was something about him like this, relaxed and casual, yet with that glint in his eyes, as if he still couldn't believe I was really here with him.

"I like to board last," he said out of nowhere as we sipped our drinks.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe so I don't have to wait long to take off."

I laughed. "By the way, I'm not paying you back for all this," I said, only half-joking. "I can't afford it. I mean, I could if I dipped into my grandparents' inheritance, but I haven't touched that money. i thought to myself

"Impatient, are you?"i  smirked.

"You have no idea."

He tilted his head, amused. "So, do you prefer boarding first or last?"

I hesitated, then admitted, "I've...never flown commercial before."

He gave me a look of surprise, quickly followed by a soft laugh. "So, it's your first time slumming it with the rest of us in commercial?"

I laughed, feeling more at ease. There was an ease between us that felt equal parts comforting and terrifying. The more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to keep being with him.

The flight itself was uneventful. Peter was on his laptop, completely immersed in a work emergency, and I drifted off watching him. I hadn't known he was multilingual, but hearing him switch between languages with ease—especially when he spoke German—was...hot. I couldn't understand much, but his voice was commanding, and he looked serious and focused in a way that made him seem like a different person. I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again, we were on the ground, and he was watching me with that same intense look.

"Sorry, love," he murmured, "the company's transitioning all our devices from MDD to MDR compliance. It's taking up most of my time right now, but I promise no more work." He kissed my forehead in that soft, innocent way that always caught me off guard.

A car was waiting for us outside, and I quickly realized Spanish-speaking Peter might be my favorite. The way he spoke, relaxed and fluent, somehow made him seem younger and even more handsome. We drove for what felt like ages, and as the reality of meeting his mom started sinking in, I couldn't help but feel nervous. I'd never met a boyfriend's mom before, and I wondered if she'd approve of me.

As if sensing my nerves, Peter slid over to sit beside me, pulling me close. "Mom is going to love you," he said, kissing the top of my head. I tried to let his calm confidence reassure me.

We arrived at the estate, and I was taken aback. I'd been to plenty of impressive places, but this was something else—a sprawling, ancient castle that made my grandparents' place look almost modest. Stepping out of the car, I used the one bit of Spanish I knew. "Mucho gracias," I said to the driver, who nodded with a friendly smile.

Peter took my hand in his, holding it firmly as though he thought I might run. "You grew up here?" I asked, and he shrugged, like it was no big deal. His family was seriously wealthy.

"Tour first or parents?" he asked, a playful look in his eyes.

"Tour," I grinned, glad for the excuse to put off meeting his mom.

The castle was beautiful, filled with antique furniture and artwork that screamed class. As we passed through the guest wing with countless bedrooms, I asked, "Will I be sleeping here?"

"No, love," he said, with a sly smile. "You'll be with me."

I blushed. "And your mom? Won't she...mind?"

He chuckled, smirking. "No, Rhian. Mama won't mind."

We finished the tour, met two of his dogs, and even saw an ancient-looking turtle he mentioned had outlived several relatives. Finally, he led me to a room where music was playing softly—something familiar to me.

"She's in here," he said, motioning toward the door.

Inside, a woman I recognized was playing the piano, her fingers dancing across the keys with practiced ease. Peter called out, "Mama!" She looked up, a smile spreading across her face as she stood to greet him, kissing him on both cheeks.

"Tomas! What took you so long?" she teased him affectionately.

I blinked, surprised. Tomas?

Turning to me, she smiled warmly. "Oh, hello, Rhianon! So lovely to see you again." She pulled me into a hug like we were old friends, which only added to my confusion.

Peter watched us, clearly puzzled as his mom inspected me, announcing immediately that I needed to be fed.

"Tomas," she said, turning back to him with a twinkle in her eye, "why didn't you tell me your girlfriend was Rhianon?"

He looked taken aback. "And how do you know Rhianon?"

"Oh, she's played at a few of our charity events over the years," his mom explained. She turned back to me with a bright smile. "Darling, how are you?"

I grinned back, amused. "I didn't know he was your son... Tomas."

Peter—Tomas?—cleared his throat, a mixture of surprise and slight embarrassment on his face.

"So, Tomas," his mother continued, clearly enjoying herself, "how did you two meet?"

"On Tinder," he answered dryly, glancing between the two of us, his expression unreadable.

I couldn't tell if he was surprised or amused, but one thing was clear: this was going to be an interesting weekend.