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“Oh, you think the men are in charge in our family?” Elle picked at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt and smoothed her hand over the material. “We let them think that. You’re a strong woman. You’re an amazing addition to this family.”
Guiltily, Pen looked at her lap. She felt like she was lying by letting Elle believe Pen and Zach were really together, but there was no way to unravel the lie without causing damage to everyone.
“I’m about to overstep my boundaries,” Elle said next.
Pen lifted her head to meet eyes with the older woman.
“Do you know about Lonna?”
The name didn’t bring forth the barest whisper of familiarity. “I don’t think so.”
“I don’t know that Zach knows I know how in-deep he was with her. But I’m his mother. I knew.”
Pen was dancing in dangerous territory. Part of her wanted to ask Elle about the woman from Zach’s past, and another part of her felt loyalty to her fake fiancé. In the end, her curiosity won.
“Who was she?”
“They dated when Zach was in his midtwenties. She was a few years older than him and there was always something I didn’t like about her. Her strength wasn’t so much strength as fierce independence. Independence she cherished over our son’s heart.
“Zach would sooner die than admit to us that she broke his heart, but I could tell. He was different after her. After they split, he withdrew. Then he moved to Chicago and we swore we’d never see him again.”
That was why he moved to Chicago? Away from a woman? Rather than chasing a dream? Did that make a difference?
Yes, Pen realized.
She’d run from Chicago because of a business endeavor—because she’d needed to reform her reputation. Not because she couldn’t bear to be in the same state as an ex.
“My point of telling you this isn’t to worry you, Penelope.” Elle placed her hand gently over Pen’s, making Pen wonder if the worry showed on her brow. “My point is to let you know that I’d started believing he’d never commit to another woman. Not seriously.” Elle sneered, but still managed to look elegant doing it. “We all know that Yvonne debacle was a blip of rash stupidity.”
“Let’s hope,” Pen blurted.
“I know my son. I’m right. But here you are, and Penelope, believe me when I tell you that Zach has finally given his heart to someone. To you. He wouldn’t get engaged again so soon unless he meant it.”
Pen’s smile was as brittle as burned paper. Or unless he wanted to get out of hot water with his raving lunatic of an ex-wife.
“You’re going to be an amazing mother, Penelope, and you’ll have a dedicated husband and father at your side. Trust me when I tell you that.”
Pen blinked her eyes against forming tears and when her vision cleared, Elle was reaching into her handbag and bringing out a blue-and-white crocheted blanket.
“This was Zach’s when he was a baby. His great-grandmother Edna made it for him.” She handed over the soft pile of yarn, a few frayed ends tied into knots. “He’ll kill me if I tell you this, but what the hell.” Elle cupped her mouth with one hand and stage-whispered, “He slept with it until he was eleven.”
Pen laughed and lost the battle with a few tears that streaked down her cheeks. She swiped at them quickly, and then held the blanket in both hands.
Her baby would someday be a grown man or woman and have a history—a history with two parents who pretended to be in love. A history that had to be history.
The more distance she put between this baby’s birth and her living with and pretending with Zach, the better. She wasn’t being fair to anyone. Not Zach’s siblings or parents, or her own parents, or especially her child.
Lying was going to have a ripple effect on her baby’s life and she couldn’t allow that. As kind as it was for Elle to stop by and apologize and declare her son’s love for Pen, there was one fact that remained unchallenged.
Zach and Pen, while they liked each other just fine, weren’t in love. They didn’t share their plans for a long future, or discuss grandmothers or past heartbreaks.
They shared plans and a schedule. They shared a bed.
And those things did not a love story make.
