“Five, I think,” she said, fighting the urge to tuck her hands behind her back. If she didn’t accept a ring, maybe none of this would really happen.
But then Mr. Gaston held out a plain band to her and she found herself slipping it on her finger.
The band made it over her knuckle, but it was a tight fit.
“Five and a half,” the older man said.
As she watched, he shifted through trays of stunning diamond engagement rings. They sparkled and winked and seemed to all be very large and impressive.
He removed a single tray and set it on the table. “All these are the right size,” he said. “So, young lady. What do you like?”
There was nothing not to like, she thought, wishing she hadn’t tried so hard to eat a little dinner. The fajitas were sitting heavily in her now tense stomach.
Dev stood next to her. “Not your style?” he asked in a low voice.
“They’re lovely,” she whispered back, “but they seem very expensive.”
He chuckled, then kissed the top of her head. There was nothing romantic or sexual about the action, she thought, slightly stunned. It was something one would do to a favorite niece or cousin. Still, she felt comforted.
“Didn’t we already have the money talk?” he asked. “Come here.”
He took her hand and drew her to the table. She was so caught up in the feel of his warm, strong fingers touching hers that she didn’t pull back when he picked up an emerald-cut solitaire and slid it onto her finger.
She’d imagined this moment since she’d been a little girl. The soft lights, the romantic music, the love in her husband-to-be’s eyes as he slid the engagement ring on her finger. She’d never thought she would be in a strange house with a man she barely knew after agreeing to a two-year marriage of convenience while pregnant with another man’s child.
Her life was practically a reality show.
“Not this one,” she said, staring down at the stone. While it was beautiful, it seemed cold.
He took it off, but kept hold of her hand.
She let him, more aware of his touch than the rings. He picked up several different ones and put them back before finally taking a ring with a large center cushioncut stone flanked by small baguettes.
“I think this one,” he said as he slid it on. “What do you think?”
The ring was amazing. Pretty and big, without being gaudy. It seemed to suit the shape of her hand and her fingers. Which was all good, but it was still the biggest diamond she’d ever seen in her life.
“Will your insurance cover this?” she asked.
He laughed, then touched his free hand to her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
She didn’t know what to say to that. How could anyone not like the ring?
“Can you stand to wear it?” he amended.
“Of course,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
He cut her off with a shake of his head. “I know what you meant. Is this one okay?”
She nodded without looking at the ring. “You’re being very generous.”
“I know this is difficult,” he said quietly. “Whatever happens, I want you to be happy.”
She would never have imagined him saying something like that to her. For the first time since finding out she was pregnant, some of the fear faded and the future didn’t look quite so bleak.
“I want you to be happy, too,” she said.
“Good. Then we’re agreed.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant the happy thing or the ring. Either way, she had the thought that maybe the next two years weren’t going to be as difficult as she’d first imagined.
Chapter Three
“Why does the yarn always hate me?” Crissy asked as once again her project quickly tangled into a complete mess.
Noelle did her best not to laugh at her friend’s distress. Crissy tried really hard in their knitting class, but it did seem as if she were always making a disaster instead of knitting the current project.
Crissy held up her two needles and the raggedy yarn falling off of one. “What am I doing wrong?” she asked, sounding both frustrated and near laughter.
Rachel leaned over and fingered the uneven stitches. “You’re not even casting on right,” she said. “Give it here. Let’s start over and see if we can get this going.”
Crissy handed over her needles, then winced as Rachel began unraveling everything.
Noelle carefully worked her needles, counting and making sure she kept up with the pattern. This was the first week of their intermediate class. They’d moved from simple squares and a shawl to a vest.
“Now cast on,” Rachel said, leaning over Crissy’s arm. “How many stitches do you want?”
Crissy looked at the pattern. “Twenty-five.”
She worked laboriously, then grinned when she’d finished that first row.
“Much better,” Rachel said.
Crissy beamed.
Noelle watched them, noting how Rachel’s dark hair and Crissy’s auburn curls looked against each other.
With everything else going on in her life, Noelle had almost decided not to take the class, but now that she was here with her friends, she was glad she’d come.
She’d met Crissy and Rachel four months ago, when all three of them had come for their first class. Rachel had learned to knit as a teenager but hadn’t picked up needles in years. Crissy and Noelle had been complete novices and totally uncoordinated. Lucky for them, Rachel had sat at their table and talked them through the first few lessons.
Soon they were meeting after class for a late dinner, as they did tonight. Noelle waited until they were seated in the small restaurant at the other end of the strip mall and had placed their orders before she spoke up.
“I have something to tell you,” she said.
Instantly both Rachel and Crissy looked at her. “You’ve been a little quiet,” Crissy said. “I’d wondered if something was up. Are you all right?”
Noelle nodded. She was close to her mom and her sisters, but sometimes she wanted relationships outside of her family. While she didn’t know how she was going to break the news of her pregnancy and marriage to her parents, telling her friends didn’t seem so scary.
“I’m going to have a baby,” she said.
Her friends stared at her.
“Not tonight,” Rachel said. “Because if you are, I need to know. I’m starving and I’ll eat fast.”
Noelle laughed. “Not tonight. In about eight months.”
Crissy’s green eyes widened. “Jimmy’s the father, isn’t he?” She reached across the table and touched Noelle’s arm. “You learned he’d died what, four weeks ago, and now you’re pregnant? Are you all right? Are you terrified? I’d be terrified.”
Under any other circumstances, the three of them would never have met and become friends. Crissy was thirty, the owner of a small chain of gyms for women. Rachel was twenty-six and a kindergarten teacher. Noelle was the baby of the group, but they never made her feel younger or out of place.