I’m well and truly fucked.
“I don’t know how to act around everyone here.”
“Just act normal,” I say, grabbing her bags and busying myself with pulling her clothes from them and hanging them up.
I cuss under my breath when my fingers brush against her undergarments, wondering just when I found basic cotton panties and bras so unbelievably fucking sexy. I leave those in the bag, ignoring them as best I can.
“I can do that.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell her.
“I don’t think my normal is what everyone else would consider normal.”
“What?” I turn to look at her over my shoulder, my fingers teasing the soft fabric of a graphic tee.
“You said to act normal around everyone.”
“Just act like yourself.”
“The self I want to be or the self the teachings told me I am?”
“Your true self.”
“And if I tell you I don’t know who that woman is?”
I drop the t-shirt to the floor of the closet. I guess we’re going to start those difficult conversations first thing this morning.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but we aren’t convincing anyone that we’re in love.”
“I didn’t figure we were.” Her fingers begin to tangle in her lap, nerves getting the better of her.
“We also aren’t convincing them that the baby is mine.”
Her eyes snap up to mine. “What?”
“The meeting I had last night confirmed it.”
Her pretty green eyes begin to well with tears.
“I don’t want you to freak out.”
She shakes her head as if telling me it’s too late. “They know? How do they know?”
“The dates are wrong. They know you were already pregnant when Legend and I went to California.”
“Dates are just—”
“Estimates, I know. But when I was asked directly, I couldn’t lie to them. They’re my family.”
“They’re your boss and co-workers,” she argues.
“My employment doesn’t matter. I trust these men with my life, and I’m not going to lie to them.”
She nods as if she understands, but I don’t get the feeling that she really does. Her concept of true family is so fucked up from how she was raised that she can’t imagine having such a dedication to people that isn’t forced through God knows what types of torture and punishment.
“I didn’t answer a question they already didn’t have the true answer to,” I say, hoping it makes a difference. “They know I wouldn’t have gone for a job and slept with the client.”
“Because I’m not the type you’d go after.” It isn’t a question in search of compliments.
“You are a little young, and before you argue that you’re grown, I know you are. Believe me, I’m fully fuc—freaking aware how much of an adult you are, April. But please understand that I’d never cross the line we’re trying to convince them that we crossed. I would never take advantage of someone vulnerable and in my care. Never, and those men know that about me.”
“Taking advantage of?” She looks up, eyes bright with unshed tears.
“What kind of man would I be if I convinced the girl I was helping get away from a pervert to climb into bed with me?” I raise a challenging eyebrow at her. “Good men don’t do that. I’m a good man, April. I don’t think you would’ve shown up here and asked of me what you have if you thought any different.”
She nods, and the slight shake of her head absent of words is maddening.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“The wedding is off?”
“No. Not if it’s what you still want, but I just wanted you to be fully informed. You don’t have to talk about the father of your baby or admit to anyone that I’m not him, but you can’t open your mouth to lie about it either.”
“I’d look like an idiot. I don’t want to be a liar. I just thought it would be easier for people to stomach that than forcing a man to marry me.”
“I’m not being forced,” I vow. “If we go through with this, I’m doing it willingly.”
“It’s ridiculous, right? I know it’s crazy. I’m not so naïve that I have my eyes closed to just how insane doing this is. I want you to know that.”
“I know.”
“So what problem does it solve to go through with it other than my own hang-ups about having a baby out of wedlock? If I’m unable to convince people that you’re the father, then what’s the point.”
“Our marriage will guarantee stability for you and the child.” Am I actually arguing for this arrangement now? I’m trying to convince her that we should still go through with it. “If you need a dad for your baby, then I’ll happily be that guy. I’ve always wanted kids, so it just makes sense, I guess.”
“But don’t you want to have that experience with a woman you love?”
This questions makes me pause. The thought of loving any woman has always been a rare concept to me, a possibility that never really crossed my mind.