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She grins, stepping back into the dining room and glances around the apartment. I feel so exposed and vulnerable right now. “Just wanted to visit the happily married couple and see how everything’s going.”
I’m speechless, but I need to find words now instead of later. Too many thoughts stream through my mind as my heart rapidly churns in my chest. I remind myself that Hunter and I are married, and we’re having a baby. I put on a fake smile and hope she doesn’t see straight through it.
“Well, you’re just in time for dinner, Mrs. Corrigan. Hope you’re hungry. Smells good, sweetheart.” Hunter leans over and places a chaste kiss on my lips. It’s supposed to be sweet and simple, but it has my emotions bubbling to the surface. I desperately want more of him, and when we pull away, I’m completely breathless. A meaningless fake kiss isn’t supposed to do that. I tuck my lips inside my mouth, and my mother’s eyes meet mine as she sits at the table.
“I’ve been following your Instagram. Everyone’s loving the updates so much,” she states, but it feels like there’s an underlying meaning to her words.
Hunter distracts her while I finish dinner by talking about the last few doctors appointments and the things we’ve been doing to prepare for the baby. He explains the baby proofing and shopping for things he never would’ve thought of before now. Though he seems to be enjoying himself, I interrupt their conversation to give him a much-needed break to take a breath because he’s been talking for nearly five minutes straight.
“Hungry, Mom? I’ve made plenty,” I ask, pulling the ketchup and mustard from the fridge.
“Sure,” she tells me, and I make her a plate too. I’m stalling, but all I can think about is how she’ll want to see the nursery and a tour of the apartment, and when she sees we’re sleeping in different rooms, our entire façade will be destroyed. Showing up here unannounced is not what I expected and never planned for. The thought of losing my parents, everything I tried so hard to keep and protect, guts me. I could think of more lies, more cover-ups to help the story, but I’m already in so deep. The thought is exhausting.
Hunter comes into the kitchen to help me carry everything to the table.
“Relax,” he whispers in my ear, and I take a deep breath. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside out because I know we’re going to get caught. There’s no getting out of it, not with her sitting at my dining room table. I glance down and realize I’m not even wearing my wedding ring. At least I can blame it on my swollen fingers, but what’s Hunter’s excuse?
“What would you like to drink? We’ve got water, milk, cranberry juice, and orange juice,” I ask.
“Water’s fine,” she says politely.
I hand her a bottle, then sit in the chair next to Hunter, and we begin to eat. Mom chats about the flight over, and I try to keep food in my mouth so I don’t have to talk. Hunter gives her his boyish grin and occasionally shoots me a wink. He’s such a natural at this; at pretending to be my husband. I hate that he has to do this, especially after knowing his true feelings about me. I give him an apologetic look, a half-smile so he knows how appreciative I am. He shakes his head as if it’s no big deal, but it’s a really big fucking deal to me. He’s constantly saving my ass.
I’ve devoured half of my food and barely said a word. I’m still trying to get my thoughts together when my mother sets her napkin down on her empty plate.
“Lennon,” she says, meeting my eyes. “I know the truth.”
My face wrinkles, and for a second, I feel like I’m dreaming.
“What?” I ask, making sure I heard her right. I look at Hunter and then back at her.
“I know you two aren’t really married, so you don’t have to keep pretending for my sake.” She says it so nonchalantly that I nearly check my pulse. Instead my mouth falls open.
“Mom…” I pause, my heart pounding hard with guilt. “How?”
“An anonymous birdie told me, called the church after Sunday service. Luckily, I answered the phone before your father had a chance.” She gives me a pointed look, but I’m confused as hell to who she’s referring to. The only people who knew were my sisters, but as soon as I glance at Hunter and his expression hardens, I have another idea of who could’ve run their mouth.
“I don’t know what you think you know, but…” I start, but she waves a hand in the air and cuts me off.
“I’m not stupid enough to just take a stranger’s word for it. I’ve done my due diligence, Lennon, and checked for myself. Marriage records are public in the state of Nevada, and I searched for yours and Hunter’s, but came up empty. So I called Clark County and asked if I was doing something wrong and the clerk told me they had no records of a Hunter Manning and Lennon Corrigan.”
