Protecting Her(74)

“I’ll take the child,” one of the maids says as she approaches him.

“That’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll take him. I know where to go.”

She backs away, looking offended. I didn’t mean to offend her. I just like to see for myself that Garret is in the right room, and I’d like to meet the nannies.

“I’ll take him back there,” I say to Pearce. “I’ll meet you by the bar.”

He nods as he scans the room. He’s probably looking for his father so we can avoid him.

I take Garret to the side of the house where the playroom is located. When we get there, Victoria is walking out.

“Hello, Victoria.” I smile at her. “Thank you for inviting the children. It’s much more convenient than finding a sitter.”

She looks me up and down, then walks off, not saying anything. She is so strange. I don’t know why she hates me. She has no reason to. I’m always nice to her, even when she’s rude to me or ignores me, like she did just now.

“Come on, honey.” I lead Garret into the room.

“It’s all girls,” he says, his shoulders drooping in disappointment.

“I’m sure some boys will be here soon. You want to color?” I steer him toward a long table that has pads of paper and crayons and markers on it.

“Coloring’s boring. I want to do that.” He points to a game that’s on the floor in the corner. It’s the one where you toss bean bags on a tic tac toe board.

I take him over there, and on our way, we pass Sadie, who’s having her nails painted by one of the nannies. She glares at Garret as he walks by. She must be one of those little girls who hates boys. Or maybe she just hates Garret. Probably because her mother hates me.

A little girl walks up to Garret. “You want to play?”

She offers him a mini bean bag. He takes it, his eyes on the girl. He’s staring at her like she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. She’s about eight years old with dark brown hair and bright green eyes and freckles on her nose. She’s cute.

“Yeah, I’ll play,” he says, still staring at her. His not-liking-girls stage sure didn’t last long. He definitely likes this little girl.

“I’ll see you later, honey.” I kiss his cheek.

He backs away. “Yeah, see ya.”

I think I embarrassed him with the kiss. But he’s too young to be embarrassed by that. He can’t be interested in girls at his age. He’s not old enough. He’s still my baby boy.

I reluctantly walk away, and go up to the nanny to introduce myself. I meet the other nannies as well, and when I leave, I turn back and see Garret and the girl playing the game. They seem to be having fun, but I hope some other boys show up.

When I get back to the party, I don’t see Pearce by the bar. I don’t see him anywhere, but the room is very crowded so it’s hard to find people.

“Hello, Rachel.” I look beside me and see Katherine standing there. Katherine Seymour, the girl who had a crush on Pearce for most of her teen years. She’s older now. I’m guessing early twenties. I’ve seen her at some other parties the past few years but we haven’t spoken. The last time I talked to her was before Pearce and I had our fake wedding. Katherine was trying to convince me not to marry him.

“Hello, Katherine.” I turn to face her. She’s wearing a tight black dress but she has almost no curves so there’s nothing to show off. She’s very thin. “How have you been?”

“Well. Thank you.” She talks like her mother now. Very formal and stiff. When she was younger, she had more of a whiny, spoiled kid tone to her voice. “And you?”

“I’m also doing well.” I have nothing to say to this girl. I feel like anything I tell her will be used against me later. I’ve found her mother to be quite conniving, not with me personally, but with other women I know, who she claims are her friends.

“I hear that you have a child,” Katherine says.

“Yes. A son. He’s six.”

“Are you planning to have more?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” I’m not telling her the truth. That’s a personal question and none of her business. I need to put the focus back on her. “So are you still in college?”

“I graduated. Last spring.” She moves her long blond hair to one side and smooths it with her hand.

“Where did you go to school?” I already know the answer because Leland told us at a party a couple years ago, but I ask her anyway.