Self Service

Come Along

In the car, Priscilla rested against Scott's chest, and he rubbed her arm. "Do you like the necklace?" he asked.

She hadn't said a word since he'd told her how old it was. That worried him a bit. He knew she was internally about to combust, probably losing her mind.

He had given her the necklace because he loved her and she was worth that to him. She was that special to him. But he knew damn well he couldn't tell her that.

"Oh, yes. I like it," she assured him, touching it as if to make sure that it was still there.

She did like it. But it was overwhelming her a little that Scott had given this to her. It wasn't something she could take lightly like his other trinkets. This was apart of his family and something he had to have put a lot of thought into. He was giving her a piece of his family's history. That wasn't the same as I passed Tiffany's and thought this bracelet would look good on you, chère.

"Why so quiet?" he wondered, lightly caressing her arm with his finger.

"Just thinking."

"What about?"

"Lot of history behind this necklace," she said truthfully.

He ran his fingers gently along the piece of jewelry and trailed his fingers up her warm skin to her chin so that he could hold it. He leaned in and kissed her lips softly.

Scott knew Priscilla loved him. But she was afraid to say it. He didn't think she was afraid to be in love. He knew she was afraid of being hurt. He had never bothered telling her he wouldn't hurt her. He was more of a show and prove type of man.

"I trust you enough to wear it," he told her.

She smiled softly. He trusted her with something that had been in his family for six previous generations, and that meant something to her. Being trusted was one of life's great pleasures for her. It meant that someone gave her the ability to completely fuck something up with the belief that she wouldn't.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And it looks great on you, Scilla."

She let him kiss her again and she sat back in the seat, letting him take her hand in his. She watched the town pass by her eyes, looking out the window and wondering how much history Scott's family had in it.

"Your family owns the hotel?"

"The hotel used to be a house," he told her. "My family owns the land. I'll tell you more tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?"

The car slowed to a stop and Scott smiled. "Because, my darling, we have arrived."

Scott helped Priscilla out the car and placed his hand on her back as he led her up the winding walk to his uncle's house, placing a gentle hand on her lower back.

He rang the doorbell, and the Mitchells' house manager, Ivana, answered the door.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Nolan. Right this way. The family has been expecting you."  

She turned to lead the couple to the dining room. "She called me Mrs. Nolan," Priscilla whispered.

"Get used to it, Mrs. Nolan," he told her, stepping into the dining room.

"Scott," Warren Mitchell bellowed. "It's so good to see you, son." Warren caught Scott in a bear hug.

"Uncle Warren!" Scott greeted, returning the older man's hug. "This is my fiancée, Priscilla."

"Hi," Priscilla said meekly.

"Well, aren't you prettier than the sun peeking through the trees on a spring day. It's nice to meet you, Priscilla. You can call me Uncle Warren."