“You don’t have to be celibate. Just discreet.” She looks away. “I won’t mind.”
Just like that, my fantasy shatters, the fire in my veins snuffed out. Now a different kind of fire courses through me. “I’m not going to cheat on you, discreetly or otherwise. And there will be a grand ceremony, the kind that will make every other woman in the world weep with envy. And we will have a honeymoon.”
“Ryder—”
I raise a hand. My mouth runs on auto-pilot. “I get it. No sex. That’s fine. I’m not the kind of guy who has to force himself on an unwilling woman. But I’m also not the kind of guy who thinks it’s okay to humiliate his wife with other women.”
“But it’s only for a year. It isn’t even real.”
“That’s precisely why what you’re saying is insulting. You’re assuming I can’t keep my dick in my pants for a year around other women. Why not?”
But even as I say it, I know why not. In addition to my own behavior, the history of the men in my family doesn’t exactly inspire matrimonial trust. My father simply cannot stay faithful, but he also can’t stay married to a woman he isn’t sleeping with anymore, so he keeps divorcing. My uncle’s reputation is just as bad. His seductions are the stuff of legend, but he never divorced his wife despite a prenup that protected him…although his wife finally got fed up and decided to get rid of him earlier this year.
Paige says nothing. And that’s good, because I’m too pissed off. I hate it that she thinks so little of me even though I’ve earned the rep. I’m the player with a Facebook group full of women who want to talk about sleeping with me. I’m the guy who’s so bad that the media dubbed all the women he slept with “humped and dumped.”
But it still infuriates me that I’m such a low-level douchebag in her eyes.
“This marriage is going to look so fucking real, it’s going to come as a shock when we separate a year from now,” I say, standing up. I’m uncomfortable enough that this conversation is going to be over as soon as I say my piece. “I’m great at playing a role, and ‘besotted husband’ is going to be a piece of cake.”
Chapter Eleven
Paige
After our disastrous conversation yesterday, Ryder disappears again, so I don’t get a chance to talk to him. It bothers me, but there isn’t much I can do about it.
I wish I’d never said anything about sex or him being free to do what he wants. I didn’t say it to upset him. But I also don’t want him to feel like he’s giving something up, and being celibate for a year is pretty serious for a man as physical as Ryder Reed…even if having sex doesn’t really hold any emotional meaning for him.
But it does for me. And I don’t want to end up having some uncontrollable attachment to him after our year is up.
I stare out the office window at the pool. Maybe I’m making a bigger deal out of the whole thing than it really is. Being overly sensitive about what happened yesterday. I mean, other than the painting, when was the last time Ryder let anything bother him?
In his mind, I probably don’t merit a second thought. The notion is oddly comforting, but at the same time sends a painful pang through my heart.
Renni’s text interrupts my brooding. She wants to start planning Bethany’s baby shower. It’s way early, but she’s probably too excited to care.
We should wait until she’s showing. Otherwise it might not feel as real, I respond, fighting a small smile. Besides I want to know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl before I go shopping.
My phone pings again. I pick it up to see what Renni has to say, but my smile slips when I see the text. It’s from Ryder.
A car’s coming to pick you up at four.
I check the schedule. Ryder has a meeting with his financial advisor at four thirty.
I text him back. Taking me to OWM?
OWM stands for Omega Wealth Management. The founder, Gavin Lloyd, is a financial genius. It was Ryder’s investment with the firm that doubled and tripled his money.
No. I canceled that meeting. Cleared everything for the whole week.
My fingers fly on the smooth glassy screen. What? You can’t do that!
Sure I can. My schedule, my time.
Where are you?
Shopping.
I dial him.