I was scarfing down my second slice when there was a loud knock on the front door. I glanced at Mom, surprised. “Did you invite someone over?”
She shook her head. “Maybe Andy changed his mind and decided to drop by.”
God, I hoped not. The last thing I needed was his melodramatic promises to take care of my baby. Unlike me, Mom might actually fall for his boy-next-door earnestness and charm.
She went to open the door as I scraped my plate clean. Today was a very good day—I hadn’t had a single bout of morning sickness, and my appetite was ravenous. I sneaked into the kitchen to chip a bit more off the turkey that was sitting on the island counter.
“Tiffany!” Mom called. “Come out here, please.”
Damn it. Couldn’t a pregnant woman just eat in peace?
I swallowed a bite of turkey and grumbled under my breath. Mom was standing at the door, talking to two gentlemen. When she glanced over her shoulder and moved aside, I gasped.
Instead of Andy, Denton and Ernest had dropped by for Christmas.
Twenty
“Well, don’t just stand there gawking,” Ernest said, wheeling inside. “Here, we brought Christmas gifts. Put them under the tree, or open them now if you want.”
“Um… thanks.” I hurriedly took them and began with the introductions.
Ernest took Mom’s hands and kissed them, saying she looked like my twin sister. Flirtatious player. He sure knew how to make a woman blush.
“Merry Christmas,” Denton said, standing beside me uncomfortably. We watched as Mom fussed over Ernest and brought him a blanket and a plate heaping with food.
“How did you get here through that?” I gestured at the heavy snow falling outside.
Denton glanced out the window. “We were in the vicinity. All part of Gramps’ master plan, of course.”
“Master plan?”
He gave me a half grin. “To crash your Christmas dinner. What else?”
I rolled my eyes, hiding my smile. “C’mon, you must be starving. I’ll get you a plate as well.”
The four of us sat around the table, listening as Ernest talked and ate the turkey with a voracious appetite. I could tell Mom was mesmerized by him. She couldn’t look away as he recounted tales of his past adventures and the exotic sights he’d seen.
“How’s the humble fare?” I asked, unable to resist teasing the two men. “You weren’t expecting roast goose and chocolate pudding with edible gold, were you?”
Ernest shot me a reprimanding look. “On the contrary, silly girl. Your mother’s cooking reminds me of my mother’s. It’s the taste of home, exactly the way I like it.” Then he turned his attention back to Mom. “My compliments to the chef,” he said with a half bow.
She blushed and fussed over him again, bringing out a tray filled with pumpkin and sweet potato pie slices, along with custard tarts and fruitcake.
Mom had been hiding food from me.
“I think you should move back into the penthouse,” Denton whispered, leaning in. “Or if you want, you could stay at the Hamptons with Gramps.”
“But I’m comfortable here,” I said, still eyeing the custard tarts.
“It’s not in a convenient location.”
“The Hamptons aren’t convenient, either.”
Denton pressed his lips together, his blond hair falling in his eyes. Without thinking, I reached over and pushed his hair back, then immediately regretted it when I felt Ernest’s and Mom’s eyes on me.
That single gesture must have looked intimate, as if I wanted to be alone with Denton.
“Young Tiffany, why don’t you take the presents we brought and open them in your bedroom? Denton can join you.”
“Or I can open them right here,” I said, unwilling to leave. As much as I loved Ernest, I didn’t trust him to be alone with my mom. “And I want the custard tarts. You hid them from me just now,” I accused Mom.
“Because you were eating like a full-grown hippo!” Mom cried out, frustrated. “It’s not good for you to eat so much at once.”
“But I’m pregnant!” I wailed, clutching my belly. “And not just with any baby, but a North baby! The fetus is already trying to mountain climb all over my womb and zap all my energy!”
“Okay, okay!” Giving up, Mom went into the kitchen to prepare another tray for me.
I grinned at her retreating back. Mission accomplished.
Later, Denton and I sat on the bed as I ripped through the presents. Ernest had bought lots of baby gifts—fluffy teddy bears, tiny socks, and a baby photo album.
“Gramps bought more gifts, but they’re at the penthouse,” Denton said, watching me.
“Why?”
“It’s mostly furniture. He sent over a team of interior designers to turn one of the rooms into a nursery.”
I sighed, closing my eyes. “What if I want to stay here?”
“It’s ultimately your decision. But the penthouse is at your disposal, whenever you’re ready.”
I decided to change our discussion to something else. “Our three-month separation trial is almost over.” I glanced at my socked feet. “I want you to be honest with me—if you hadn’t known about my pregnancy, what would you have decided to do?”
Denton looked unhappy with my question. “Why are you so desperate to put a label on my feelings? To put everything in a neat little box? You want an answer? Fine. I was going to divorce you.”
His answer was like a slap to my face. “R-Really? You wanted a divorce?”
He nodded grimly. “Only so we could start over again. I didn’t want this fake marriage hanging over our heads like some dark cloud. We would get that divorce, meet as friends, and build our relationship from there. Bring some normalcy back.”
Okay, so Denton had still wanted to establish some form of relationship with me. But if a guy couldn’t figure out how he felt even after six months of living together and almost three months of separation, then when would he ever figure it out?
The answer was simple. Never.
I blinked back my tears. “Then we should do that.”
“Do what?” Denton grew alarmed.
“Get a divorce. What you just said makes total sense. We’ll start over, stay friends, and have joint legal custody of our child. I’ll keep the baby during the week, and you can have the baby on the weekends.”
“No, that’s no longer the plan.”
“It’s the plan that makes the most sense. I think you’re right—we don’t want this fake marriage following us around every day. Every time someone asks how you proposed to me, we have to lie. And I’m so tired of lying.”
Denton nodded in resignation. “Okay, then. When do you want to do this?”
I stood and glanced at the bedroom door, suddenly nervous. “We should tell my mom and Ernest first.” What if the news affected Ernest’s health? I would never forgive myself if something happened to him.
But Denton remained seated on the bed. “Are you sure about this, Tiffany?”
His tone made me hesitate. It was Christmas Day, and I’d already shocked my mom by presenting a $500,000 check and breaking the news about my pregnancy. Was I going to ruin her day by announcing our divorce?
“Maybe we’ll tell them tomorrow.” My knees weakened, and I sat back down next to him. “It is Christmas, after all.”
“That seems like the best approach.” His gorgeous green eyes never left my face.
We sat on the bed and stared at each other, each knowing this could be one of the last nights of our marriage.
The next morning, I woke up late with a splitting headache.
Mom was in the kitchen cooking sausage and eggs for breakfast. The smell of heavy grease hit my nose and soon had me bolting for the bathroom.
“Ugh,” I said later, stumbling toward the kitchen. “Mom, I know you love sausage, but please, put it away. Pregnant woman with morning sickness here.”
“Oh! Of course, honey.” With an apologetic smile, she turned off the burner and faced
me. “What about some toast, then? And a glass of apple juice?”
I nodded, sitting at the island counter. Denton and Ernest had left around ten last night. Both Mom and Ernest had ended Christmas day in the best mood, so I had no idea how to broach the subject of my upcoming divorce.
“Mom…”
“Hmm? What is it?” She placed the glass in front of me, and I gratefully drank from it before speaking again.
“There’s something I have to tell you. Uh… I talked to Denton last night, and we came to a decision.”
“About what?”
I was about to chicken out. Just do it! “We’re going to get a divorce.”
Mom stood there, staring at me, her expression going from cheery to somber.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” I whispered.
She joined me at the island counter and gently took my hands. “I’m not mad. It was only yesterday that you told me you were married, so it doesn’t have the same impact on me as it might on Ernest.” Her eyes filled with sadness. “He’s going to be so devastated. And my daughter is going to be a single mom at twenty-four.”
“Denton and I will have joint legal custody of our baby. And we’re going to stay friends and keep in touch every day.” My voice lowered. “He said he wanted us to start over.”
Mom brightened. “Then there’s still hope.”
Maybe. But I was getting tired of hoping and waiting. Some things just weren’t meant to be, I guessed.
Around midday, I got an irate call from Ernest. “What is this foolishness about getting a divorce?” he shouted at me. “I thought you were going to move into the penthouse!”
“You should be yelling at your grandson, not me,” I said, indignant. “And in case you were wondering, I’m still going to drop by at the Hamptons and bug you incessantly. I’m part of your life now whether you like it or not.”
My retort seemed to calm him a little. “Legal proceedings aside, you’ll always be a North to me, the only granddaughter-in-law I accept. Or maybe I should make you my wife. That would teach that foolish grandson of mine when he has to call you ‘Grandmother’ and his own son ‘Uncle'.”
I hooted with laughter. “That would be one messed up genealogy. Scandalous too.”
“I thrive on adventure and scandal, didn’t you know?” Ernest sighed. “Let’s get down to business and the reason why I’ve called, young Tiffany. Your friend’s apartment is a health hazard and as cramped as a coffin. I won’t have you and my great-grandchild living there. So I’ve arranged for you and your friend to move into one of my condominiums on Park Avenue.”
“What? No, that’s too much!”
“It’s yours, Tiffany. My lawyer is drafting a deed of transfer even as we speak. Think of it as a gift of apology for all the nonsense my grandson put you through.”
I wasn’t familiar with property prices, but even someone like me knew a condominium on Park Avenue costed millions. Far more than I’d received from Denton. It was way too much.
“You’re generous to a fault, Ernest, but this is more than I can handle.”
Ernest remained stubborn. “You have three choices—stay at the penthouse, stay at the Hamptons, or take the condominium. Which is it going to be?”
“Right now, becoming your wife sounds more appealing,” I joked.
“That can be arranged too.”
God, I loved this man. He was like my very own fairy godfather.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “If it’ll put your mind at ease, I’ll move into the condo. Happy now?”
“I knew you’d give in to my demands. You can move in as soon as your friend returns from Europe.” With a gruff, “Call me tomorrow,” he hung up.
Mom knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Everything okay?”
I nodded, rubbing my belly. “Ernest wanted to talk about the upcoming divorce.”
“How did he take it?”
“I think he’ll be okay.” My voice softened. “We’ll all be okay after this.”
It was true. And it comforted me to realize that I believed it too.
Twenty-One
Our divorce took place pretty quickly.
The funny thing was though, nothing much changed. Ernest still harassed me on the phone, and Denton dropped by to pick me up whenever I had an appointment with my obstetrician. Everything felt normal.
Until the day Rach finally returned from Europe, and we were instantly whisked away to Ernest’s condo on Park Avenue.
Correction: my condo on Park Avenue.
“We’re living here?” Rach whispered, afraid to set foot inside. The condominium had three bedrooms plus a study, including three bathrooms. It would be a nightmare to clean the place on a regular basis.
“Courtesy of Ernest North.” I didn’t mention that I owned the place. “He came over on Christmas and thought we needed more space, especially when the baby arrives. So here we are. You like it?”
Rach nodded, somewhat hesitant. “I don’t know if I can return to my old life again after this.”
It took us several days to pack our things and move permanently into the condo. Lucky for us, the spacious home was already furnished with Ernest’s tasteful furniture and art, so we didn’t have to move anything heavy.
“Pinch me,” Rach said, collapsing on the leather couch. “It still feels like a dream.”
“I’m not going to do that. Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Mom to move in with us. She’s going to quit her managerial position and open her own boutique closer to where I am.”
“I love your mom, Tiff. And when she’s around, we always have good food instead of takeout.” She sighed dreamily. “Seriously, I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
It did mean she had to drive longer to get to work, but what was an extra thirty to forty minutes when you got to live in a place like this?
We settled into the luxury condo pretty quickly, and Mom moved in a week later. I still returned to teaching my ESL classes, and spent my time visiting Ernest and helping Mom with her new boutique. Because the legal mumbo jumbo of the business transactions gave me a massive headache, I left that to her and focused on arranging the tasteful outfits and accessories around the store. As more work piled up, Mom had no choice but to hire three assistants. The place was starting to feel like a real business now.
One morning, while I was binging on hot dogs and pickles, Denton called me. “How do you feel today?”
“Hungry,” I muttered, biting down on my fourth hot dog. “This baby of yours is like an eating machine.”
He chuckled. “If you don’t have other plans tonight, maybe we could go out for dinner. Just the two of us.”
“Are you asking me out on an actual date?”
“Yes,” he said, not even bothering to deny it. “Dress in smart casual. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Well, this was interesting. As I hung up, I suddenly grew nervous. What did this mean? Was this a step forward in our relationship, or was I reading into it too much?
“Oh, stop overanalyzing,” I said to myself, returning to the hot dogs. “Just go out and have some fun.”
When eight o’clock arrived, my nerves rattled as I sat waiting on the couch.
“He’s late,” Rach pointed out, looking annoyed.
Mom hushed her. “He’ll be here soon. Now come into the kitchen and help me with the tuna casserole.”
When she disappeared into the kitchen, the doorbell rang. I jumped to my feet and went to the door, opening it. Why, why was he so good looking?
Denton flashed a disarming smile, wearing an expensive navy suit and silk tie.
“I thought you said smart casual?” I glanced down at my simple black dress. I’d chosen black to hide the bump that had begun showing recently.
“I came straight from the office,” he explained. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I did my best to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “You look,”—
like a god�
�“pretty nice yourself.”
Denton took me to a small Italian restaurant owned by one of his close college friends. As we sat down in an intimate corner of the room, his friend bustled over to introduce himself.
“Tiffany Lewis,” he said as he took my hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.” He was tall and muscular, and sporting a thick man bun.
I smiled and glanced around. “You have a lovely restaurant.”
“This is Michael Ricci,” Denton said. “We shared a dorm room for two years in college. All he did was talk about opening his restaurant and hardly went to classes. It drove me nuts when he still got top marks, though.”
Michael laughed. “What can I say? I’m naturally gifted.”
“I still think you bribed the professors. Maybe with a plate of potato gnocchi.”
We ordered a pizza marinara, linguine with clam sauce for Denton, and a Veal Milanese for me. No wine, since I was pregnant and Denton had driven the car tonight.
“I’m so glad you brought me here.” The intimate coziness of the restaurant was romantic without being flashy.
“It’s one of my favorite places to eat in New York. You’re the first date I’ve brought here.”
“I’m honored,” I said, half joking. “I think I’ll write about this in my diary tonight.”
When the food came, everything looked and smelled delicious. Once I began eating, it was hard to stop. I chewed as Denton talked about work and updated me on Gloria’s social activities.
“Is she upset with me?” The last time I’d visited the Hamptons, she had given me the cold shoulder except when the conversation centered around the baby.
“Probably. I mean, you did divorce her precious son.”
“It was a mutual decision! And it was her son who planned the whole fake marriage!”
Denton grinned, enjoying my fury. “She doesn’t care about that. In her eyes, you took advantage of me.”
Man, that totally sucked. But it wasn’t enough to curb my appetite. Tonight, I would eat. And tomorrow, I would start worrying again.
Perfect Husband: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 12