“Thank you. I love your name too. Gerry, right?” Number Six says.
Mom’s gaze cuts like a surgery laser. It’s a miracle that the airhead doesn’t fall bleeding to the floor. “Geraldine.”
The younger woman flinches. “Sorry. Geraldine.”
Dad flushes, but he says nothing. He knows Wife Number Six is no match for Mom, who’s been trained from birth to put people in their proper place. Besides, defending his wife will only cause a scene and draw more blood—from him and Number Six.
Paige clears her throat. “Why don’t we all move to the dining room?”
Thankfully nobody argues, and we can eat.
Well. Attempt to eat.
The formal table is long and dark, made of teak or something like that. I don’t remember exactly, since I gave my interior decorator a blank check and then left everything to her. Lights blaze from the three chandeliers and the tableware gleams; gilded china, crystal wine glasses and silver utensils polished within an inch of their lives. The thick white cotton napkins are folded just so into cool origami shapes, and the centerpiece features red and pink carnations and baby’s breath. The walls have murals of Provence over the four seasons that I commissioned a few years back. The artist is a temperamental asshole who disdains money as much as he craves it, but I liked what I saw in his gallery, which meant I had to have his art in my home.
Everyone sits down, and a cold cucumber soup is served.
Wife Number Six looks at Bethany and her husband. “So,” she says perkily. “Did you just recently get married?”
“Three years,” Oliver says with a smile.
“That’s a long time. Don’t you get bored with shopping all day while your husband works?”
Paige and Maggie sputter. Simon hands Maggie a glass of water, and I rub Paige’s back.
“I’m not at all bored. I have a fulfilling career, and soon we’re going to have a child.” Bethany reaches over and squeezes Oliver’s hand.
“Congratulations.” I make a mental note to send some nice baby things to them later. I hold Paige’s hand, making sure everyone can see what I’m doing. “We’re hoping to have one soon also,” I say, laying the groundwork for Paige’s pregnancy. We’re going to have to announce that sometime soon after we’re married, depending on how early she shows. “I’d like at least two children.”
Mom chokes on her soup.
“Is it wise to get pregnant yourself?” Number Six says.
Maggie blinks. “Um… How else would you get pregnant?”
“A surrogate, of course. You know, just pay somebody else to carry your baby so you don’t have to. It’s a perfect solution.” Number Six turns to Paige. “You should think about it. Everyone gains weight during pregnancy, and it’s soooo hard to lose it afterwards.” She frowns then leans closer like she’s about to hand over the Key to Life. “Much harder than regular weight.”
The dining room plunges into dead silence. Even Mom stops coughing.
Red blotches Paige’s cheeks. My hand tight around the spoon, I scan the crowd, taking in their reactions in a flash.
Mom’s eyes are round, which would be almost comical if Julian’s little trophy bitch hadn’t insulted Paige. His expression stony, Dad reaches for wine, while Maggie, Bethany and Oliver glare at Wife Number Six. Simon is watching me and Paige with speculative eyes.
Hot fury sears through me. The only thing keeping me from knocking Number Six’s perfect teeth out is the fact that I have a penis and she doesn’t.
I turn my gaze to Dad’s latest Barbie. “In case you aren’t aware, I’m very much in love with my fiancée. I hate the idea that even an ounce of her would vanish from this world to suit some bimbo’s idea of ‘beauty.’ So no. I don’t think she should ever worry about pregnancy weight. Maybe guys who don’t love their women as much as I love her would be bothered by such a trivial thing, but I’ll love and honor her more for giving me the most perfect child any man could ever ask for.”
Number Six’s mouth opens and closes, then opens again. It’s all I can do not to grab a baguette and make her choke on it.
My tone takes on a nasty edge. “Just so we’re clear”—I let my gaze sweep over the guests meaningfully—“Paige and I are engaged. About to become family. Any insult to her is a direct insult to me. She may be sweet and forgiving, but I’m not.” I let my eyes rest on Number Six’s face, which is Ferrari red at the moment.
Good.
Her throat works as she swallows. “I didn’t mean it that way. I was just worried—”
“Then worry with your mouth shut.” I twist my lips into a cruel line. I can’t hate my father and Number Six more than I do at this moment. If he absolutely has to get a new wife so frequently, can’t he at least pick somebody with more than one brain cell? “I’ll personally destroy anyone who upsets Paige, even if it happens to be my father’s sixth—or is it seventh? So hard to keep track—wife.”
Paige squeezes my hand. “It’s all right.”