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I lean down to kiss her jawline, right where it reaches the lobe of her ear. My tongue darts across her diamond earring, toying with it, making a little sigh escape her lips before I respond. “My parents wanted it to be a surprise,” I murmur, my breath ghosting across her cheek, drawing a little shiver from her. “My mother insisted that I owed her. I believe the words were ‘you robbed me of a wedding.’”
Mara tilts her head back far enough to catch my eye, steel glinting in hers. “Still. You should have at least warned me. There are so many people here—”
“They don’t matter.” I turn her to face me, cupping her face between my palms. “Nobody matters but you and me, Mara.”
Her breath catches in her throat. Her pupils dilate where they fix on mine. “John…”
“John.” My mother’s voice breaks through our conversation, as her hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “Don’t monopolize your beautiful bride,” she says, teeth flashing in a wide smile. “After all, you’ve had her to yourself for weeks. We want to get to know her.”
With an eye roll just for Mara, I shift a little, letting my mother hook an arm through Mara’s.
“Come on, dear, you haven’t even seen the gift table yet. It was tricky to figure out a good gift, of course—John here wouldn’t give us any hints about your tastes. I hope it’s all right—we decided it would be safer to just buy for the future instead…”
I trail after my mother, who’s leading Mara toward an elaborate table set up near the rear wall. There are a few gift-wrapped boxes on it, some cards, and… Oh God. My stomach sinks.
A bassinet.
Is she crazy?
“Mother,” I say, raising my voice.
Mom doesn’t stop. “We figured you’d need all of this soon,” my mother babbles, pointing at the blatant baby supplies. There are bottles, little onesies, even a car seat.
Mara tugs her arm from my mother’s with force. “Mrs. Walloway, this is all so sweet, but it’s… it’s too much.” Her face is flushed, and I can tell she’s trying not to panic.
I understand. So am I. I knew my parents wanted children, for me to carry on the lineage, but this is too far, even for them.
“Nonsense dear. It’s never too soon to start planning for the eventual future.”
“Eventual…” Mara’s face blanches now. “That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
Over Mara’s shoulder, my mother frowns. “What could be presumptuous about carrying on the family? What could be more important than that?”
“My career, for one thing,” Mara counters.
My mother’s frown deepens. We’re attracting attention now—a couple of cousins have noticed us and are exchanging sideways smirks. It makes me want to grab Mara and pull her out of here right now. I knew this party would be leaping into the deep end, but I didn’t think it would end in us drowning. “Career is one thing, but family must come first, dear.”
“Oh really?” Mara arches an eyebrow. “Why, because I’m young and female, I must want to pop out a baby immediately?”
“Nobody said anything about immediately, but don’t be naïve. Our family needs an heir. John needs children, to carry on our name, our legacy.”
“He needs them?” Mara shoots me a glare over her shoulder. “That’s news to me. He hasn’t mentioned wanting anything of the sort.”
“Well, I would have thought that would be implied,” my mother responds, nonplussed. “After all, he keeps you well, doesn’t he? All that money and privilege doesn’t come free, dear.”
Mara’s gaze narrows where it’s fixed on mine. “Oh, so I’m being paid to be a baby incubator, is that it?” When she speaks, it’s not directed at my mother anymore, but right at me. “Forget it. The last thing I need is to be some kind of kept woman.” She shoves away from my mother, straight through the gaggle of cousins.
Away from me.
I flash one last glare at my mother, who spreads her hands wide, an innocent look on her face, like she doesn’t know what she just did. “Thank you for that,” I mutter, and then I beeline after Mara.
Forget the rest of them. They don’t matter. Only she does.
People are whispering now, pointing. Most are thankfully too distracted eating and drinking their fill. Wringing every last drop of free anything they can from this party.
Screw them all.
This was a mistake, whispers that little voice ins my head, louder now, more insistent. I try to ignore it, scanning the party for Mara. But she’s not in the living room or the dining room anymore. The gift table sits ignored, the presents unopened.
I finally find her in the backyard. There’s a big tree, one of the few that survived the droughts, with a patch of scrub grass under it. Mara’s sitting cross-legged there, facing away from the house, face buried in both hands.
I step up behind her, hesitate for a second, and then kneel next to her. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“How could you do this to me?” She looks up at me, her jaw clenched, wiping harder at the tears that keep falling.
“I didn’t know she would lay into you like that,” I murmur. “I knew my mother wanted me to have kids, but… I didn’t think she’d be this insane about it.”
Mara’s throat works with a tight swallow. “You can’t just drop shit like this on me without warning, John. Your parents honestly think I’m some kind of—”
“Fuck what they think,” I interrupt. “You and I both know why we got married. It doesn’t matter what anyone else expects from this marriage. Only what we do.”
“Yeah?” Mara lifts her face, jaw set tightly. “Well, after this, I’m starting to think I want that annulment.”
My stomach sinks. My eyebrows shoot upward. “Mara—”
“No. You keep insisting this is a real marriage, or at least that you want it to be. But no real marriage would have situations like this.” She flings a hand behind her, toward the house. “In a real marriage, you’d communicate with me. You’d have told me about your family. Hell, in a real marriage, I’d have had a few years to get used to your baby-crazy parents before I had to meet them for the first time, with them acting like I’m some gold-digger you married off the street.”
“Do not call yourself that,” I reply, the words harsher than I mean them.
She shoves to her feet. “Why not? It’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That, or they think you knocked me up and we got married in som
e kind of shotgun wedding.” She tugs at the ring on her left finger. “What’s everyone going to think when this gets out into the media?” She gestures at the house. “You really think every single person in there is going to keep your new marriage a secret?”
“They know better than to discuss my business with paparazzi—”
“So you think.” She shakes her head, scowling. “This was a bad idea. All of it. I should have gotten this marriage annulled the moment I woke up in Vegas. Pretending we had any other options, that was a mistake.”
“Mara, don’t just give up on this.”
“Give up on what? We’ve known each other for a couple of weeks. You’ll be over me in no time.” She sets her jaw hard.
I stand next to her, reach for her. But she pulls away. “I’m not giving up on you,” I say.
“You should,” she replies. “Clearly I’m not the right woman for you. You should marry someone who wants kids and a family, the white picket fence life.”
“Why? I don’t want that,” I reply.
“You don’t want kids?” She raises an eyebrow, doubt written all over her face.
“I do someday, but not right now, not if it will stand in the way of your career—of either of our careers.”
But she’s shaking her head, already reaching into a hidden pocket of her dress to produce her phone. “Find yourself another baby mama, John, because it’s not me.” She taps on the screen. “I’m taking an Uber home.”
“Let me drive you.” But she’s already walking away.
“Don’t follow me,” she says, as if she’s reading my mind. Because that’s exactly what I want to do. Chase her until she sees that this is the wrong move. Make her understand. We belong together.
She stops and turns to me, and I hold my breath because I think maybe she’s changed her mind. “If you value me at all, John, give me space right now,” she says.
Hope dashed, but what can I do?
I stand there, fists balled at my sides, and watch her walk away. Just like she asked. Even if it’s the last thing in the world I want to do.
