“No worries, babe. You don’t want to get married, we won’t get married. But you’re still wearing the ring.”
“Why? Why is this so important to you?” she asked, mouth drawn in frustration. Or maybe she too was slightly astounded by the size of the rock. And I’d thought Anne’s and Ev’s rings were huge. This one bordered on accidental-eye-gouging ridiculousness.
“’Cause you’re mine, and I’m yours. And I want that clear to everyone.” Jimmy sat forward, staring her down. “I love you, Lena. Put on the fucking ring.”
“Put on the fucking ring,” she mumbled, doing an apt impersonation of the man. In a discreet show of emotion, the very pregnant brunette sniffed. “Honestly. You didn’t even say ‘please.’”
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Please.”
“Fine,” she grouched, plucking the rock out of the cake and sucking off the icing. Then she slid the massive diamond onto her ring finger. “I’ll wear the stupid thing. But we are not getting married. I don’t care what you say. We’ve barely known each other half a year.”
“Whatever you want, Lena.”
She snorted. “Yeah right.”
There was a stunned sort of silence around the table as Jimmy sucked down some mineral water and Lena got on with eating the little cake. Like nothing had happened.
Finally, David Ferris cleared his throat. “Did you two actually just get engaged?”
Lena shrugged.
“Yeah. Pretty much,” said Jimmy.
Barely holding back a laugh, Ben raised his beer. “Congratulations, guys.”
I, David, Mal, and Anne likewise raised drinks in salute. With a gasp, Ev clasped her hands to her mouth, eyes glossy with emotion.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” said Lena. “It’s just a ring. The way I’m retaining fluid, it won’t even fit me by next week.”
Jimmy rolled up the cuffs on his fitted white shirt. “No worries. I got you a nice matching chain necklace for you to wear it on.”
“You do think of everything.”
“Anything for you, Lena.”
She gave him a dry look.
“What about you two?” asked Mal, tipping his freshly refilled glass of wine in Ben’s and my direction.
“You’re the only one left now,” said David, his amused gaze on Ben.
My boyfriend shifted in his seat, letting go of my hand. He licked his lips and fussed some more, clearly uncomfortable with all of the attention. Fair enough. We’d been dating for like two of the seventeen weeks I’d been pregnant. We’d known each other for only a few months before the miraculous conception. Now was definitely not the time to put on the pressure and rush into marriage.
“Don’t know if I’m really the marrying kind,” he said with a deep, not so humorous laugh.
Shit.
Every eye in the place apart from his turned to me, waiting on my reaction. Of all the things for him to say, the hundred and one ways to put off the question. God, laughing at it alone would have done the trick. I kept my gaze down, concentrating on my mostly empty plate. My stomach clenched, a weird, wiggling, vaguely nauseous sensation rising up inside. Meanwhile, you couldn’t have found a more profound silence in a church.
The ringing of Ben’s cell broke the quiet. He answered it with a manly grunt. Did I even want to marry someone who answered the phone with a grunt? I don’t know. And apparently I’d never need to decide. He wasn’t the marrying kind. All of a sudden the safety I’d found with him felt precarious indeed. The ledge that was our relationship had begun crumbling beneath my feet.
“Yeah … sure, send her in.” He turned to me, sounding relieved to change the subject. “Ah, Martha’s here. She wants to apologize to you for the other day.”
I just looked at him.
“That’s all right, isn’t it?” he asked, obviously referring to his sister. Sadly, I was still stuck back on his awesome announcement.
The door opened and the woman herself walked in, head held high and a big black patent leather handbag slung over one shoulder. A brief flash of pain crossed her face at the sight of David, her nose wrinkled at Ev.
Ben pushed back out of his chair and stood, going to her side.
“Make it good,” he ordered in a low voice.
As if I had any interest in an apology, good or otherwise, from this woman.
Ben’s words twirled around and around inside my head. We’d never even talked marriage, not really. I guess the fairy tales had been playing out in the back of my head, though, the usual fantasies of tulle, silk, and eternal love. The odd dove or two. Cake.
Yeah. Not so much, apparently. I needed to leave right now. Go be alone for a while until I had things figured out again, now that my bright shiny future had been flushed down the toilet.
Martha retrieved a couple of papers from her handbag and shoved them in my general direction. “You want me to believe you’re not just using my brother and this child to make some money? Prove it to me. Sign this.”
The whites of Ben’s eyes were huge, massive. “Martha—”
“What is that?” I asked, the noise of my voice coming from far, far away.
“It’s the contract he had drawn up, covering shared custody and a more than fair payment for maintenance—upon proof of paternity, of course,” she answered.
“Of course.”
“Shouldn’t be a big deal for you to sign.” She took another step forward, still holding out the papers. “Your own sister signed a prenup. Did you know that?”
“It’s what Anne wanted. You’ve got no fucking business talking about that, Marty.” Mal slowly got to his feet, a hand on my sister’s shoulder. “And I am very unhappy at Adrian for discussing that shit with you.”
“He didn’t.” The snake of a woman sneered. “But his new little secretary is very chatty. Not the brightest, though, unfortunately for her.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” said David. “Now, Martha.”
“Doesn’t concern you,” she said without sparing him a glance. Still looking at me, she continued, “You want to prove to me that you love my brother? That you have his best interests at heart? Sign it.”
I just stared at the papers, perplexed.
“Martha!” David kicked back his chair.
“When?” I asked Ben, doing my best to meet his eyes, but not quite managing. I stared off over his thick shoulder at the lights of the city below. It was all just too raw, too painful. “You agreed we’d handle this between us not twenty-four hours after you found out I was pregnant. So when exactly did you ask for this contract to be drawn up?”
He stared at me, unmoving.
“Let me guess. You had it drawn up ‘just in case’?”
“Lizzy.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Did you think I wouldn’t understand your need to protect yourself?”
“You didn’t like the idea when I first brought it up.”
“I barely had a chance to get used to the idea,” I cried. “Christ, Ben. Most people would be a little wary at the mention of having lawyers sicced on them, don’t you think?”
“What’s it matter?” he asked, jaw shifting angrily. “I haven’t asked you to sign it.”