The oldest picture now is one of him pushing his newest daughter on an infant swing at the park. Ironically, when I glance at the comments, the first one I see is one of his old conquests commenting enthusiastically about what a great father he is.
Since I didn’t find everything I was looking for, I click the profile of his girlfriend. It doesn’t appear that they’re married. Their last names are different and there are no wedding pictures that I can find. Her profile is much more private so I can’t see much of it. She likes coffee, shopping, and birthday fundraisers. Their daughter has alopecia and that’s why she doesn’t have any hair in the more recent photos.
I don’t realize how long I’ve spent looking until Calvin walks into the living room. I’m startled because I didn’t hear him come in. Also because of what I’m doing. I fumble and drop the phone like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
Calvin shoots me a funny look.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly, grabbing my phone and flashing him a guilty smile.
His eyes narrow with vague suspicion.
Shit.
I go back to his page and take a screenshot of Mark’s profile to remind myself to come back later and see if I missed anything.
“How was your day?” I ask, swiping my screen and closing all my apps.
“Good,” he says, still suspicious as he sets his briefcase down on the counter. “And yours?”
“Also good. I had lunch with Charity after my meeting and went shopping afterward. Those shoes you gave me today were great, thank you.”
He nods, opening the case and drawing out a folder. “I’m glad you like them. What were you doing when I came in?”
I don’t know why, I knew I had been a little awkward, but I didn’t expect him to ask. “Um… phone time things.”
That’s an odd answer. I cringe at myself.
Great job, now he’ll never suspect anything.
Of course he does, he’s not a moron, but he doesn’t push the issue right now. “How have you been feeling?”
“Good. I got hit by a little wave of nausea at lunch, but I haven’t been sick again.”
“And Charity is doing well?” he asks as a matter of routine.
I nod. “Yeah. Just busy catching up on work after taking time off for her honeymoon. She wanted to know why it has been taking me so long to text her back lately, and I couldn’t explain that you dole out supervised screen time like I’m a child, so… that was cool.”
Calvin smirks. “I mean, you could have. Probably wouldn’t have gone over well, though.”
“Definitely not.”
He draws something else out of his briefcase, then walks over to the couch with it. He takes a seat beside me, and only then do I realize it’s a selection of glittering diamond rings around a black velvet cushion.
My heart flutters. “What is that?”
“We’re going to find out your ring size,” he says.
“Why?”
Rather than answer, he asks, “Do you like any of these?”
Of course I like them—they’re stunning. Well, most of them. Some are too large and I don’t like the look of those at all, but quite a few are beautiful. There are ovals and squares, clusters and teardrops, emerald cuts and round diamonds, too. Some are simple, some are gawdy, and a few are somewhere in-between.
It’s the in-between ones I like, but I’m afraid to tell him that.
“Pick one to try on.”
“I already know my ring size,” I tell him, not reaching for one.
“Pick one,” he says, losing patience, “or I will buy them all.”
My eyes widen. It’s his money, I shouldn’t care, but that would be such a waste. I grab the ring I like best and slide it on my finger. “This one’s nice, but it has too many diamonds.”
He takes my hand and inspects the ring on my finger, looking at the way the light hits it as he turns my hand. “What do you like about it? The cut? The band?”
“I—I don’t know, I just think it’s pretty. I like the shape.” I regard him cautiously. “Why am I trying on rings?”
“Because I’m going to buy you one.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve decided we’re going to get married.”
I knew that was where he was going with this, but I also knew that was too insane even for him, so I doubted myself.
Rookie move. Shouldn’t have doubted myself.
I don’t even know what to say. Of course I’m not going to marry him, but he must know I’d feel that way.
He carefully pulls a much bigger ring off the cushion. “Here, try this one.”
It’s so big, it looks like a chunk of ice. “It looks heavy,” I say reluctantly, drawing the simpler ring off my finger and tensing as he takes my hand and slides the ring on it.
He glances at me as the ring moves over my joint and settles into place. It’s sordid how intimate it feels, and I have to look away.