by Nadia Lee
And what’s even worse than that is…I don’t know how to fix the situation so I can breathe again.
Chapter Eight
Paige
Ryder leaves town on Monday to “go fishing,” which is his code for either getting laid or partying. Whichever it is, I’m sort of glad after that crazy proposal. I already have enough on my plate, mainly how I’m going to adjust to having a baby on my own…and how I’m going to tell my family.
Frankly, figuring out the first is easier than the second. In addition to disappointing Mom and Simon, it’ll prove that the whispers I heard while growing up were right—that I’m a troublemaker, bound to let people down no matter how things appear now because sooner or later I’m going to do something bad.
Getting pregnant out of wedlock definitely counts.
Ryder’s still not back by Friday COB. I don’t think he’s in trouble…if he were, he would’ve contacted me or his lawyers. However, he should be about partied out by now. The previous record is four days.
Sunday morning, I drive to a modest house in the suburbs. My stepsister, Bethany, and her husband, Oliver, bought it last year. The previous owner was in financial trouble, and the property was about to go into foreclosure. So they got a pretty decent deal, considering that this is L.A.
Since it’s the biggest of all our homes, Bethany and Oliver usually host our get-togethers. My roommate Renni and her twin brother are invited as well. All of us being transplants, we’ve bonded tightly over the years.
By the time I ring the doorbell, it’s ten thirty. Bethany answers in a pink apron streaked with flour. There’s some on her cheek as well. Her white t-shirt is comfy and old, and a pair of cropped blue-jeans ends at the middle of her calves. Bright, neon pink polish looks great on her narrow feet, which are currently bare.
A yellow number two pencil skewers the messy brown bun sitting on top of her head. Her smile wide and welcoming, she wraps me up in a hug. “Come on in.”
I return the hug. It feels so good to be around people who love me.
We walk in together. Renni and her twin brother Gary are hanging out in the living room.
They look nothing alike.
Renni is petite and pixie-like. Meanwhile Gary is a fitness model, and he has the height and ruggedly dark looks that made him popular among romance writers looking for a hottie to grace their covers. A Captain America t-shirt stretches over his lean, muscled body, and a pair of well-developed legs shows below frayed denim shorts.
Oliver comes out of the kitchen, holding a kitchen knife. He’s in his favorite green Hulk apron. Mom made it for him a couple of years ago for Christmas. He’s on the slight side, his shoulders narrow and limbs long and slim. Rimless glasses sit on his round, friendly face, and his dark hair sticks up like he’s been zapped by experiment-happy aliens.
“Impeccable timing! And Bethany didn’t even have to text you,” Oliver says.
I cringe. I’m often late. Not on purpose, but a lot of times Ryder has some last-minute thing.
“Brunch’s almost ready.” He gives me a quick hug, bending his torso away so that whatever’s on his apron doesn’t get on my clothes.
“How did your trip go?” Bethany says. “You’ve never been to his father’s house before, have you?”
“It was a special case,” I say.
“He shouldn’t make you work so hard. Thanksgiving, the Fourth of July…and now Saturdays too?” Bethany shakes her head as she places a pitcher of OJ on the table.
“He promised to let me off for Thanksgiving this year.”
“He’d better.”
“If he went to see his father, I’m sure there was a reason. I heard rumors that they don’t get along,” Gary says, giving me a sidelong glance.
I know they want some juicy gossip from me. Gary and Renni have been living in L.A. long enough to know that not everything you read is true. Even Bethany and Oliver lean a little closer.
But I pull back. I never discuss Ryder’s personal issues with anyone. People rarely value his privacy since he’s a celebrity, but I take it seriously.
I shrug with a bright smile. “Not every rumor you hear is true.” I’m not telling them about Ryder’s preposterous proposal to marry me, which I’m sure has something to do with his meeting with Julian. Ryder has never done anything that crazy before and it wasn’t like it was his first time out with Elliot.
Besides, he took it back, and I’m going to pretend it never happened.
Oliver nods knowingly. “You know how those ‘reporters’ are about celebrities.”
He starts setting the table. A platter of lox and a few bowls of cream cheese—plain and flavored—plus toasted bagels crowd the center. Our lives are busy, but we try to make time to have a meal together at least once a week. I missed a lot of our time together when Ryder was filming overseas in the past year because I had to travel so much, so I plan to make up for it.
“Make sure to save some room for Bethany’s pie,” Oliver says.
Renni groans. “You know I’m on a diet.”
“You can take a break for half an hour,” Gary says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Not that it’s going to take you that long to eat a slice.”
Bethany bakes incredible apple pie. It’s all the practice she’s had—she bakes when she’s worried or stressed about something. A lot of boys in Sweet Hope wept when she moved to L.A.
“If she can’t have it, I’ll have extra,” I declare. I’m a big girl, and I don’t let my weight control what I do. I know: really strange in L.A. But if other people can’t deal with the fact that I have a few extra curves, it’s their problem.
We all sit around the table and dig in. It takes a few minutes for me to notice, but Bethany and Oliver are trading excited glances. Their eyes shine as they look at us. Renni notices next, then finally Gary looks up. His eyes shift from one person to another, finally settling on Renni. “What?”
Oliver reaches over and takes Bethany’s hand. The gesture is so intimate and sweet that it brings sudden tears to my eyes. Bethany has everything, but somehow I can’t seem to have anything like what she has. The thought instantly shames me because it’s small of me to feel envious of anyone, much less my sister. If there’s someone who deserves happiness, it’s her. She’s such a sweetheart, always open and loving and generous.
“We have something to tell you guys,” Bethany says. She and Oliver share another secret look.
“Okay, out with it.” Unless I prod her, she’ll never announce it. It’s a little quirky habit that she doesn’t seem aware of. But I don’t mind playing along.
“Well…I’m pregnant.”
The table erupts with congratulations. I get up to embrace Bethany and so do Renni and Gary. I also hug Oliver too. Gary thumps Oliver on the back, his hand thudding hollowly against my brother-in-law’s slight frame.
“Why didn’t you text me?” I say.
She flushes. “I wanted to announce it in person.”
“I’m so happy for you guys,” I say. “So how far along are you?”
“About eight weeks. We didn’t want to tell anyone until we were one hundred percent sure,” Bethany says. Her hand is still linked to her husband’s. “I can’t believe it. We’ve been trying so hard and for so long… It feels like a miracle.”
“It is a miracle.” I smile, eyes prickling with happy tears. “Did you tell Mom and Dad?”
“Not yet.”
“You have to call them now!” Renni says, her voice loud with excitement. “It’s evil to withhold good news.”
“We can call them. I have the technology.” I pull out my phone.
Bethany turns to Renni and Gary. “You guys really don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” Gary says.
It doesn’t take long before Mom picks up the phone. I put her on speaker, so we all can participate in the excitement.
“Hello, Paige,” Mom says. “How are you?”
“Hi, Mom,” I say. “We’re doing great. We have some
exciting news.” I look at Bethany. It’s her big announcement.
She leans closer to the phone. “Is Dad around?”
“He’s watching some game on TV. Should I get him?”
“Yes, please,” Bethany says.
“Mom, put your phone on speaker mode. You both need to hear this.”
Mom laughs. “All right, all right. I think you told me how to do that a few months ago. Let me see if I can remember.”
I smile a little. Mom is intelligent and one of the strongest women I know. But she can be terrible with technology. A smart phone and its basic functions are about as far as she can manage.
“Okay, I think I…yes!” Mom’s triumphant voice is followed by background noises. “Here’s your father. Simon, can you mute that TV…?”
Through the phone, I can hear their murmurs. The TV noise vanishes, and Simon’s booming voice comes out.
“How are my favorite girls?”
“We’re doing fine. Oliver, Renni and Gary are here, too,” Bethany says.
“Great,” Simon says. “So, what is going on with my favorite young ones?”
“I just want you to know”—Bethany takes a deep breath—“that I’m pregnant.”
Mom shrieks, and Simon yells out something that sounds suspiciously like “hot damn.”
“This is so exciting,” Mom says, her voice still high-pitched. “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving? We’d love to see you.”
“Of course. It’s still early enough that I should be able to fly without any problem. If not, we can drive.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m going to be a grandmother,” Mom says.
“And I’m gonna be a grandpa,” Simon says.
“Paige, you’re coming too this time, right?” Mom asks.
Bethany and Oliver are looking at me warmly. Even through the phone I feel like Mom and Simon are watching me somehow.
I smile and nod even as I wonder if I’m going to be able to go. I’m pretty sure that I’ll start to show by Thanksgiving. Or even if I’m not, I’ll have other symptoms. If Bethany gets morning sickness, it won’t be a big deal; everyone will know why. But if I do…
And this is my first pregnancy. I honestly have no idea how I’m going to react.
But at the same time I can’t say no. The weight of everyone’s excited expectations bears down on me.
“Of course I’ll be there. How can I miss Thanksgiving again?”
“Just think,” Bethany says. “It’ll be the last time we have an adults-only Thanksgiving.”
“That is so exciting!” Mom says. “I’m going to bake a ham…no, turkey. Or maybe quail would be better. What do you think, Simon?”
“I don’t know why you’re asking me.” Simon’s voice booms out of the tinny speaker. “You should ask Bethany. She might have cravings.”
“Oh my gosh. That’s true. Bethany, you should let me know what you want.”
Bethany laughs. “I’ll be fine with anything you make. This isn’t about the food, it’s about spending time with family.”
I lean closer to the phone. “Turkey,” I say definitively. Even as everyone laughs, something inside me withers. I can’t go, not like this. I would only disappoint Mom and Simon, and turn what’s supposed to be a heartwarming family celebration into a mess.
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.”
“Oh.” This is an unexpected turn. “Sorry. I h
ad no idea.” I thought she was in love with him. She can’t stop gazing at him or touching him whenever they’re together. Even at home, she often talks about him like a loving girlfriend.
“You weren’t supposed to. Everyone’s supposed to think we’re crazy in love so that if there’s ever a question, you can honestly answer that Pyotr can’t possibly be gay.” Tension makes her expression more stark and harsh.
“What happens if he gets found out?”
“Then it’s over. He isn’t getting his inheritance, and I need to go back to my old job at the café or something to pay the hospital bills.”
Renni had an appendectomy two years ago. I thought she paid it off when she quit her second job at the café around the time she started “dating” Pyotr, but I guess she quit because she has a new job of pretending to be his girlfriend.
“If the inheritance matters that much, he should be more careful not to stick his tongue down another man’s throat in public.” It’s unfair that Renni has to worry about all this because he’s too spoiled to give a damn.
“Please, Paige? Can you just pretend you didn’t see anything?” Renni asks, worry etching lines in her face.
The injustice of it all makes my teeth hurt, but I nod instead and feel like the worst kind of friend ever because I can’t do anything to help her.
Chapter Nine
Paige
Unlike most people, I generally don’t mind Mondays. But this particular Monday does not start well.
First, I get up late. Then the pilot calls to let me know he flew Ryder back to Los Angeles. Then, in my rush, I forget my cellphone at home.
Since it’s not the kind of beginning I’d like for the week, I don’t realize I’m missing my phone until I’m in my car. Which means I have to go back, which means I’m half an hour late for work.
Given how things have gone so far, I’m certain the rest of the day’s going to suck. Oh yay.
Then I smack myself mentally. Don’t let a couple of hours ruin the whole day. You can do better than this.
With renewed determination to be productive, I go to my office on the second level, then stop when I spot Mira.