Still, I smile like nothing’s wrong.
And then an idea forms in my head.
Ryder.
He asked me to marry him.
Yes, he took it back, but that is a minor point.
I don’t know exactly what happened between him and his father, but it made him think of marriage. If I marry Ryder, it solves a lot of my problems, mainly the ones due to my unplanned pregnancy.
It won’t matter if I can work or not because I’ll be covered under his insurance. I have enough savings to pay a deductible, just not the entire amount. And Mom and Simon won’t be disappointed that I’m unwed and pregnant. Mom in particular never wanted that for me because she herself was a pregnant teenager. I was an accident, something that should’ve never happened. I didn’t know that about myself until kids in my school mocked me, probably repeating what their parents told them. Mom was so furious and said whether I was planned or not, she wanted me fiercely. She told me I was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
“Nobody plans for that special someone. It just happens if you’re lucky enough, and I was very lucky, Paige.”
But at the same time she told me to be careful. Raising a child alone can be difficult, and it can be hard on the child, too. I know. I experienced it growing up. We never had much, and it wasn’t until we moved to Sweet Hope and Mom met Simon that we found any kind of stability.
I don’t want my child to go through the hardship and hear ugly whispers. I don’t want to be the center of speculation in Sweet Hope or cause humiliation for Mom and Simon, who have to face the townspeople day in and day out.
Ryder probably hasn’t found anybody else to marry in the last five days. Otherwise I would’ve heard about it.
I have to talk to him.
* * *
I wish I could talk to Ryder after the brunch is over, but I need to drop Renni off at our place first. She spent the night at her brother’s place and doesn’t have her car with her.
A lovely strain from a Mozart sonata fills my humble Altima.
“I didn’t know you liked classical music,” Renni says.
“I started a couple of days ago. Ryder listens to it,” I lie. “I figured I should know some, just in case.”
Mozart can supposedly help a fetus develop its brain. I have no clue how much it really helps, but I want to give my baby every advantage possible.
The light turns red at the intersection, and I make a face that I just missed it. I shove a hand into my hair, then stretch my stiff neck then I see a familiar blue BMW convertible two lanes over.
“Isn’t that Pyotr?” I say.
Pyotr Alkaev is Renni’s boyfriend of six weeks. He’s some spoiled Russian trust fund baby, and I’m not crazy about how he flaunts his wealth. His golden watch is the exact hue of his hair, and his ice blue eyes are always calculating. He has soft hands, professionally manicured, and he often wears flashy, flamboyant clothes. But he’s good to Renni, and she’s insane about him, so I told myself I like him too.
She cranes her neck. “Yeah, it is.”
He isn’t alone in his car. A young man about Pyotr’s age is in the passenger seat. He says something to Pyotr, who laughs, then leans over.
Their lips lock in a kiss. Not just any kind of kiss, but an “I gotta have you right now” kiss, where the participants shove their tongues down each other’s throats.
I blink, sit up. There’s no way I’m seeing what I’m seeing. Pyotr is… He’s dating Renni. Maybe it’s somebody who just looks a lot like Pyotr.
I push my sunglasses over my forehead and stare, but nope. It is Pyotr.
“That son of a bitch!” I turn to Renni. “Oh my gosh, I can’t even. I’m so…”
I want to get over there and beat him up, but I can’t. Renni just sighs and looks up at the sky.
A convertible behind me honks. “The light’s green!” the guy yells.
“Sorry!” I raise a hand, then check the light to make sure it is indeed green, and step on the gas. I want to go after Pyotr and his illicit lover boy, but I can’t. They just made a turn.
My knuckles whiten as I grip the steering wheel.
Renni’s face is resigned. “You can’t tell anybody what you saw, especially not Gary.”
“Why not? He should go beat Pyotr up for what he’s doing.”
“No, he shouldn’t. We’re not really dating.” Renni straightens and thumps the back of her head against the seat. “We’re faking it because of his homophobic grandfather. If his grandfather finds out that he’s gay, he’s going to be cut off. He’s paying me to play the girlfriend.” She sighs. “I am an actress, after all.”