What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(73)

Paul set down his fork and addressed Bram for the first time. “With Georgie barefoot and pregnant, it’ll be tough to support your current lifestyle.” He gave a short laugh, an unconvincing attempt to pass off his comment as a joke.

This was exactly what Bram had warned her would happen, but he merely kicked back in his chair and offered up a lazy grin. “Georgie’s healthy as a horse. They can shoot her from the chest up. Hell, I’ll bet she could have a baby and be back on the job the next day. What do you think, sweetheart?”

“Or I could just squat in the middle of the set and give birth right there.”

Bram winked. “That’s the spirit.”

“The unions wouldn’t put up with it,” Trevor said. “A violation of their labor contract.”

Meg groaned.

Bram had won that round, and her father looked sulky as he turned his attention to his plate. Trev told a funny story about his current costar. They all laughed, but a shadow had crept across Georgie’s heart. She wished Bram hadn’t brought up children. She either had to give up the idea of having a baby or find the courage to go it alone. And why not? Fathers were vastly overrated. She could go to a sperm bank, or…

No. Absolutely not!

For dessert they indulged in a rich lemon cake garnished with a few fresh raspberries and a chocolate curl. Afterward, Bram dragged Chaz out from the kitchen. Everybody complimented her, and she blushed furiously. “I’m glad you…like enjoyed it.” She shot Georgie a glare.

“A great dessert, Chaz,” Georgie said. “A perfect balance between tart and sweet.”

Chaz regarded her suspiciously.

Trev had a 6 a.m. call and left, but the others were in no hurry to end the evening even though the wind had picked up and the air smelled like rain. Bram put on some jazz and engaged Rory in a quiet conversation about Italian cinema. Georgie mentally congratulated him for displaying so much restraint. When Rory excused herself to go to the powder room, Georgie slipped to his side. “You’re doing great. Give her plenty of space when she comes back, so you don’t look desperate.”

“I am desperate. At least—” He stared at her hand as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Where’s your wedding ring?”

She glanced at her bare finger. “I accidentally knocked it down the drain while I was getting dressed. You’re just noticing?”

“You what?”

“It’s cheaper to order another one than pay for a plumber.”

“Since when are you worried about cheap?” He spun toward the guests, speaking calmly, but with an underlying tension. “Excuse me for a few minutes. One of my fans is on his deathbed, poor guy. I promised his wife I’d call him tonight.” And just like that, he disappeared.

She smiled sadly and acted as if deathbed phone calls were all in a day’s work.

Rain began to fall in a gentle spatter that made the candlelit veranda seem even cozier. With all her guests engaged in conversation, Georgie slipped away unnoticed.

She found Bram on his knees, his head stuck under her sink, a plastic bucket and a pipe wrench by his knees. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to rescue your ring,” he said from inside the vanity.

“Why?”

“Because it’s your wedding ring,” he said tightly. “Every woman has a sentimental attachment to her wedding ring.”

“I don’t. You bought mine on eBay for a hundred bucks.”

He pulled his head out. “Who told you that?”

“You did.”

He muttered something, grabbed the monkey wrench, and stuffed his head back inside the vanity.

She was getting a creepy feeling. “You did buy it on eBay, right?”

“Not exactly,” came his muffled reply.

“Then where did you get it?”

“At…this store.”

“What store?”

He poked his head out. “How am I supposed to remember?”

“It was only a month ago!”

“Whatever.” His head disappeared.

“You told me the ring was a fake. It’s a fake, right?”

“Define ‘fake.’” The wrench clanged against a pipe.

“As in, ‘Not genuine.’”

“Oh.”

“Bram?”

Another clang. “It’s not a fake.”

“It’s the real thing?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?”

“Because we have a relationship based on deceit.” He stretched out his hand. “Give me the bucket.”

“I don’t believe this!”

He fumbled for the bucket, his head still inside.

“I would have been more careful!” She thought of all the places she’d left the ring lying around, and she wanted to kick him. “I set it on the diving board when I went swimming yesterday!”

“That’s just stupid.” Water sloshed into the bucket. “Got it!” he said a moment later.

She sank down on the toilet lid and dropped her forehead into her hands. “I’m sick of having a marriage based on deceit.”

He emerged, bringing the bucket with him. “If you think about it, having a marriage based on deceit is all you know anything about. That should be a comfort.”