Deep (27 page)

But back to the dinner conversation.

“Marty can definitely be rabid when she puts her mind to it,” said Mal, his arm slung around the back of Anne’s chair. “Wouldn’t have thought she’d sic the press on someone, but like Jim said, hell of a coincidence, timingwise, for the story to break the day after her visit.”

We sat gathered around a big mahogany dining table in David and Ev’s suite, sharing an extravagant dinner. The chefs in these places knew their stuff. Foodgasms galore.

“I don’t buy it.” David sat back, fingers pinching his lips. “She knows that’d only lead to them being all over Ben too. For all her faults, she loves her brother. No way she’d do anything again to directly fuck with him.”

“She didn’t do it.” Ben remained adamant. And rather peeved, if the furrows on his forehead and sliver-thin lips were any indication.

I put my hand on his leg, gave him a small smile. Frankly, I wouldn’t put anything past the crazy-ass bitch. Right now, though, Ben needed me on his side. With next to no evidence, I’d be cautious but I wouldn’t damn her just yet. Nor would I be letting her near me, however. “What does it even matter who did it? It’s done.”

My sister gave me a long, assessing look.

“It was bound to come out sooner or later, especially with us on tour,” said Anne, taking my back. “God knows how many different people have seen her coming in and out of Ben’s suite, or just seen them together in general. And she’s showing now. It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together. There’d be big money up for grabs for a story like that. Especially once they had the right pic to sell it.”

“Exactly. I doubt the girl will be throwing me a baby shower anytime soon. But let’s not assume the worst until we know more.”

Ben gave my hand a squeeze of appreciation.

“Pumpkin’s right. It was bound to get out. Fact is, we’ll probably never know who the helpful little shithead was who ratted Lizzy out.” Mal swirled a glass of red wine before downing it in one fell swoop. “Let’s just enjoy our night off.”

Various nods and murmurs of agreement. Thank goodness.

“Hear Down Fourth are breaking up after the tour,” said Ben, one hand holding mine and the other holding a beer.

“No shit?” Jim hand-fed Lena a chocolate-covered strawberry.

“Keep that up I’ll be as big as a house,” she said after swallowing it down.

“Making babies takes a lot of energy.”

“Lead singer got offered a solo deal and their drummer’s moving on to Ninety-Nine,” continued Ben.

“Hard on Vaughan and Conn,” said David.

“Nature of the business. Some bands are just pit stops on the way to other things. Surprising, though. They’ve been together a long time.” Mal beat out a rhythm with thumb and forefinger on the table. “Vaughan’s actually a damn good guitarist with not a bad voice. Heard him messing around the other night. Think he just got stuck playing bass for them. Might be a chance for him to trade up.”

“Nothing wrong with bass,” said Ben, giving the drummer a foul look.

“Be fair, Benny-boy. There’s nothing right with it, either.” Mal grinned. “Is it true bass players can’t count past four?”

“Says the dickhead that can barely hold two sticks.”

“Enough,” said David, raising his chin. “The girls wanted a nice dinner, with no arguing for a change.”

“A noble dream,” chuckled Mal. “Seriously though, bands breaking up happens all the time. Takes a fair amount to put up with the same people day in, day out.”

“This your way of saying you’re out?” asked Jim, smirk in place.

“Damn, man,” said Ben with a straight face. “We’ll miss you and shit.”

“Wait, what was your name again?” asked David, scratching his head.

Mal gave them all the bird. “Ha-ha. You useless fuckers. You’d be lost without me.”

David lobbed a bread roll at the drummer’s head.

“No,” shouted Ev. “No food fights. We’re behaving like adults for once. Stop it.”

“Way to be the fun police, child bride,” chided Mal, setting a profiterole back on his plate.

A waiter in a fancy suit stepped into the room, carrying a silver platter with a single white-frosted cupcake sitting in the middle. He stopped beside Lena and with great pomp and pageantry offered her the dessert.

“What is this?” she asked Jimmy, pointing at the cake like it was toxic. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah, and I disagreed.”

“You don’t get to disagree.” A distinct little line appeared above her nose. “You asked, I said no. End of discussion.”

Clear blue eyes unimpressed, the man sat back in his seat, propping his ankle on his knee. “Sure I do. Put on the ring, Lena.”

Crap, he was right. I don’t know how I’d missed it. But there was an almighty chunk of bling sitting in pride of place on top of the cupcake. Holy hell, it would have made Liz Taylor weep with envy.

Lena narrowed her eyes on the man. “I said no. I still say no.”

“No worries, babe. You don’t want to get married, we won’t get married. But you’re still wearing the ring.”

“Why? Why is this so important to you?” she asked, mouth drawn in frustration. Or maybe she too was slightly astounded by the size of the rock. And I’d thought Anne’s and Ev’s rings were huge. This one bordered on accidental-eye-gouging ridiculousness.

“’Cause you’re mine, and I’m yours. And I want that clear to everyone.” Jimmy sat forward, staring her down. “I love you, Lena. Put on the fucking ring.”

“Put on the fucking ring,” she mumbled, doing an apt impersonation of the man. In a discreet show of emotion, the very pregnant brunette sniffed. “Honestly. You didn’t even say ‘please.’”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“Fine,” she grouched, plucking the rock out of the cake and sucking off the icing. Then she slid the massive diamond onto her ring finger. “I’ll wear the stupid thing. But we are not getting married. I don’t care what you say. We’ve barely known each other half a year.”

“Whatever you want, Lena.”

She snorted. “Yeah right.”

There was a stunned sort of silence around the table as Jimmy sucked down some mineral water and Lena got on with eating the little cake. Like nothing had happened.

Finally, David Ferris cleared his throat. “Did you two actually just get engaged?”

Lena shrugged.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” said Jimmy.

Barely holding back a laugh, Ben raised his beer. “Congratulations, guys.”

I, David, Mal, and Anne likewise raised drinks in salute. With a gasp, Ev clasped her hands to her mouth, eyes glossy with emotion.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” said Lena. “It’s just a ring. The way I’m retaining fluid, it won’t even fit me by next week.”

Jimmy rolled up the cuffs on his fitted white shirt. “No worries. I got you a nice matching chain necklace for you to wear it on.”

“You do think of everything.”

“Anything for you, Lena.”

She gave him a dry look.

“What about you two?” asked Mal, tipping his freshly refilled glass of wine in Ben’s and my direction.

“You’re the only one left now,” said David, his amused gaze on Ben.

My boyfriend shifted in his seat, letting go of my hand. He licked his lips and fussed some more, clearly uncomfortable with all of the attention. Fair enough. We’d been dating for like two of the seventeen weeks I’d been pregnant. We’d known each other for only a few months before the miraculous conception. Now was definitely not the time to put on the pressure and rush into marriage.

“Don’t know if I’m really the marrying kind,” he said with a deep, not so humorous laugh.

Shit.

Every eye in the place apart from his turned to me, waiting on my reaction. Of all the things for him to say, the hundred and one ways to put off the question. God, laughing at it alone would have done the trick. I kept my gaze down, concentrating on my mostly empty plate. My stomach clenched, a weird, wiggling, vaguely nauseous sensation rising up inside. Meanwhile, you couldn’t have found a more profound silence in a church.

The ringing of Ben’s cell broke the quiet. He answered it with a manly grunt. Did I even want to marry someone who answered the phone with a grunt? I don’t know. And apparently I’d never need to decide. He wasn’t the marrying kind. All of a sudden the safety I’d found with him felt precarious indeed. The ledge that was our relationship had begun crumbling beneath my feet.

“Yeah … sure, send her in.” He turned to me, sounding relieved to change the subject. “Ah, Martha’s here. She wants to apologize to you for the other day.”

I just looked at him.

“That’s all right, isn’t it?” he asked, obviously referring to his sister. Sadly, I was still stuck back on his awesome announcement.

The door opened and the woman herself walked in, head held high and a big black patent leather handbag slung over one shoulder. A brief flash of pain crossed her face at the sight of David, her nose wrinkled at Ev.

Ben pushed back out of his chair and stood, going to her side.

“Make it good,” he ordered in a low voice.

As if I had any interest in an apology, good or otherwise, from this woman.

Ben’s words twirled around and around inside my head. We’d never even talked marriage, not really. I guess the fairy tales had been playing out in the back of my head, though, the usual fantasies of tulle, silk, and eternal love. The odd dove or two. Cake.

Yeah. Not so much, apparently. I needed to leave right now. Go be alone for a while until I had things figured out again, now that my bright shiny future had been flushed down the toilet.

Martha retrieved a couple of papers from her handbag and shoved them in my general direction. “You want me to believe you’re not just using my brother and this child to make some money? Prove it to me. Sign this.”

The whites of Ben’s eyes were huge, massive. “Martha—”

“What is that?” I asked, the noise of my voice coming from far, far away.

“It’s the contract he had drawn up, covering shared custody and a more than fair payment for maintenance—upon proof of paternity, of course,” she answered.

“Of course.”

“Shouldn’t be a big deal for you to sign.” She took another step forward, still holding out the papers. “Your own sister signed a prenup. Did you know that?”

“It’s what Anne wanted. You’ve got no fucking business talking about that, Marty.” Mal slowly got to his feet, a hand on my sister’s shoulder. “And I am very unhappy at Adrian for discussing that shit with you.”

“He didn’t.” The snake of a woman sneered. “But his new little secretary is very chatty. Not the brightest, though, unfortunately for her.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” said David. “Now, Martha.”

“Doesn’t concern you,” she said without sparing him a glance. Still looking at me, she continued, “You want to prove to me that you love my brother? That you have his best interests at heart? Sign it.”

I just stared at the papers, perplexed.

“Martha!” David kicked back his chair.

“When?” I asked Ben, doing my best to meet his eyes, but not quite managing. I stared off over his thick shoulder at the lights of the city below. It was all just too raw, too painful. “You agreed we’d handle this between us not twenty-four hours after you found out I was pregnant. So when exactly did you ask for this contract to be drawn up?”

He stared at me, unmoving.

“Let me guess. You had it drawn up ‘just in case’?”

“Lizzy.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Did you think I wouldn’t understand your need to protect yourself?”

“You didn’t like the idea when I first brought it up.”

“I barely had a chance to get used to the idea,” I cried. “Christ, Ben. Most people would be a little wary at the mention of having lawyers sicced on them, don’t you think?”

“What’s it matter?” he asked, jaw shifting angrily. “I haven’t asked you to sign it.”

“Don’t play stupid with her, Ben,” Martha sneered. “Adrian sent you a copy weeks ago. His little secretary said he asked her to double check that you still had it last week. He was wondering what the holdup is.”

Ben glared furiously at Martha, but he didn’t deny it.

“Just in case.” I wrapped my arms around myself, holding on tight. “Why are we even doing this? I mean really. You lied to me, Ben. You’re just waiting for this to fall to apart, aren’t you? You’re not the marrying kind? Honestly, I don’t even know that you’re the relationship kind. In a lot of ways you’ve avoided commitment at every step. I was just too stupid to see.”

“Check it out, Ben,” said Martha, voice low and hypnotic. “This is what happens when you threaten their money. The claws come out and you find out what they were up to all along.” She turned on me. “So go on then. Storm out and lawyer up all you want—but everyone here has seen you for what you really are now.”

“God, you…” There weren’t words bad enough for this sort of bitch. I snatched the contract from her hands, slapping it down on the table. It was surprisingly slim, only three or so pages. “Pen!”

Martha hunted through her handbag for one.

“Don’t,” Ben said, pushing the word out through gritted teeth.

I grabbed the pen Martha was offering. Funny, there was none of the triumph or venom remaining on her face now. If anything, her gaze seemed confused, cautious. Like I could care. This had nothing do with her anymore.

I moved my dinner plate aside and flipped through the papers, finding the big, juicy number meant to buy me off. Fuck’s sake, he’d already put half a million into my bank account. How ridiculous. Without hesitation I scribbled out the number and wrote in a big fat zero. Then I read through it, doing a check on the custody and other assorted details. As promised, Bean would be shared evenly between the two of us. Any disputes would be sorted out in family court, in the event of mediation failing. Good. It all seemed standard.

There. Signed and done.

If they needed anything else they could catch up with me later. At a mutually beneficial time when I wasn’t about to have a messy emotional breakdown, possibly involving puking my guts up.

His sister snatched up the contract, hurriedly examining it.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d give me an hour to remove my belongings from the room before returning to it,” I told Ben, not even bothering with the pretense of facing him this time.