that, too.” She wondered if her parents could be tricked. “I’ll write up some information on my parents and sisters for you. Just a few notes so you can convince them we’ve been together for a while.”
“Good idea. I’ll do the same about myself. We’re going to have to act as if we’re in love.”
In love. He said the words so easily. She’d never said that to a man. How many times had he whispered the words to someone?
“What were you like growing up?” she asked instead of dealing with the love issue.
“I was a typical kid,” he said. “I liked sports, didn’t like school all that much, hated girls, had lots of friends.” He smiled. “I got over the girl thing.”
She smiled back. “I’ve heard.”
“My mom died when I was sixteen and Jimmy was six. That changed things.” His expression tightened. “My dad couldn’t handle the pressure, so he took off.”
“That’s so sad,” she said, not sure how any parent could abandon his children.
“My grandfather stepped in and he was great. So I did okay, but it was harder for Jimmy. There was the big age difference. We’d still been close until Dad left. Then we grew apart.” He took a drink. “Maybe he resented me taking over and being in charge. I don’t know. The older he got, the less we got along.”
Something about the way he told the story made her feel bad. As if he had regrets and they still hurt him. But before she could think of what to ask, the doorbell rang.
Dev glanced at his watch. “Right on time,” he said as he stood. “Come on. You’ll like this.”
She had no idea what he was talking about but she followed him into the foyer. He opened the door and shook hands with a small, older man carrying a wide briefcase.
“Noelle, this is Frank Gaston. He owns Gaston Jewelry.”
“Mr. Gaston,” she said, shaking hands with him.
Mr. Gaston smiled at her, then turned to Dev. “She’s very pretty. I hope you’ll be happy together.”
Dev smiled at her. “I’m sure we will be.” He led the way into the dining room and indicated that Mr. Gaston should put his case on the table.
“I asked Frank to bring over a selection of engagement rings. I thought this would be easier than going to a store together.” He moved next to her and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to wear the ring until we’ve figured out how we’re going to tell your family.”
She nodded because speaking was impossible.
He was buying her an engagement ring? She’d only been pregnant since that morning. Okay, since she’d been with Jimmy, but she’d only known about it for fourteen hours. Everything was happening so quickly. She felt as if she were living her life on fast-forward. She wanted to slow things down and let her head stop spinning, but Mr. Gaston was already opening the case and asking her if she knew her ring size.
“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 cushion-cut 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.
“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