Chapter 3

Weston pushes the folder into my arms.

"Take it home. Look it over. Sign it tomorrow."

Then he glances at his phone. Text from Sabrina.

"My stomach hurts."

He yanks the car door open.

"I'm gonna go check on her."

I don't move.

He sees my face and frowns.

"She just got pregnant. It's not stable. Don't throw a tantrum right now."

Door slams. He's gone. Just like that.

The next day at noon, I go to the hotel to taste the wedding menu.

I push open the private room door. Sabrina's already sitting next to Diane, Weston's mom.

"Diane, I really can't eat anymore."

I stop dead.

Diane sees me and something twitches on her face.

"Oh. You're here. Sit."

Sabrina catches up and laughs.

"Don’t take it the wrong way, hon. Diane insisted — since the license is done, I have to call her Mom now. It’s tradition."

Diane pulls a fat red envelope out of her bag.

"Here. Ten grand and one — ten thousand and one dollars. For luck."

At our engagement, Diane held my hand and said:

"When you and Weston get your license, honey, I'm giving you eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight. For prosperity."

I smiled and said okay.

Now Sabrina gets ten grand and change.

Diane sees me staring at the envelope. Her voice cools off.

"Sabrina is legally Weston's wife right now. Manners matter."

"You haven't gotten your license yet. Just call me Diane for now. Rules are rules."

Sabrina snorts.

"Hon, don't tell me you're fighting me over a welcome check too."

"You want it? I'll give it to you."

Weston walks in right then.

Diane fills him in.

He just pulls out a chair and sits down.

"It's ten grand. Don't make this awkward."

Right. Because the only person who ever ends up awkward is me.

The waiter starts bringing food out.

Drunken lobster hits the table. Weston speaks up immediately.

"Take this off. And take it off the wedding menu too."

The manager blinks.

"Mr. Hale, this was one of the main courses you booked."

"She's pregnant. She can't eat it."

Weston grabs the menu and crosses it out himself.

I finally speak.

"That dish is the one my dad specifically picked."

Last month at the tasting, my dad — who never says he likes anything — actually said he liked it. Weston said he'd make sure Dad got an extra plate on the wedding day.

Now he doesn't even look up.

"When did your dad ever have to eat it?"

"Sabrina's pregnant. If something goes wrong, who's responsible?"

Diane frowns at me too.

"It's one dish. Your father can't survive without it?"

Sabrina chews her chopsticks and grins at me.

"Hon, if he's really craving it, I'll treat him to a whole spread after I deliver."

Everyone laughs.

I stop talking.

Halfway through the tasting, Diane brings up the wedding again.

"Wedding goes on as planned."

"When relatives ask about the license, just say it's done. Don't run your mouth. Don't make us look ridiculous."

I look at Weston.

"You want me to tell people we're already married?"

He grunts. "Mm."

"It's just a few months late. What's the difference?"

Sabrina jumps in.

"Exactly! I'm just holding the spot. Baby comes out, I hand it right back to you."

Diane clicks her tongue at Sabrina's phrasing.

"Nobody's holding anything. We're all family."

Then she suddenly remembers something.

"Sabrina, you should move into the new house for the next few months."

I look up.

Diane, matter-of-fact:

"It's closer to the hospital. Easier for Weston to look after her."

"Your wedding hasn't even happened yet. The house is just sitting empty."

I look at Weston.

He looks straight at Sabrina.

"First trimester's risky. If I stay there too, I can help if anything happens."

I grip my glass hard.

That house. Half a year I spent picking every piece of furniture, every paint color.

I haven't spent a single night in it.

They've already moved another woman in.

Diane sees my face and her voice drops.

"She's carrying Weston's baby. You're going to be Weston's wife. You can't even show that much grace?"

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