“What about Sinclair? Surely, she’s on your side,” he said, reaching over to take my hand.
I looked down because there was a part of me that felt betrayed by her. “She says she is.”
“You don’t believe her?”
I wasn’t a person to talk about my feelings. What was the use? Talking let other people know about your inner demons, but it didn’t make them go away.
But Ryder seemed sincere in his interest, so I said, “She probably believes it, but I’m good at my job. I don’t need help and I resent the two of them acting like they’re doing me a favor when what I really feel like is that I’m being pushed aside.”
His eyes were soft and sympathetic. “And you’ve told them how you feel?”
I nodded. “I told Sinclair, but she’s on his side. She probably just likes having Brooke around because now the mayor’s attention is on her instead of Sinclair.”
“Sinclair is married now. Surely his interest stopped then,” Ryder said, lifting his wine glass to his lips.
“I don’t know. I don’t feel like I know anything at work anymore. I hate it.” And I hated feeling so vulnerable. I didn’t like the feeling that things were going around me that I didn’t know about or didn’t have control over.
He smiled. “Who’d have thought this marriage would be the stable, sane part of your life?”
I laughed softly. “Who’d have thought.”
It had been a long time since I’d been on a date. Longer still since I’d gone out and truly enjoyed myself. I was forced to recognize that Ryder might go through life in a relaxed, come-what-may way, but he was solid. He was perceptive and smart. He didn’t once ask me if I was overreacting or misinterpreting the mayor and Sinclair, which is what other people would have probably done. He accepted my feelings as they were, without judgment or giving me an opinion of whether I was right or wrong.
While we waited for dessert, I excused myself to use the restroom. Once I’d done my business and washed my hands, I was touching up my lipstick when the door opened and a woman about my age walked in.
She smiled at me through the mirror. “I noticed you’re eating dinner with Ryder Simms. Are you two together?”
Immediately, I got suspicious. She was pretty with dark hair and green eyes. She looked polished and intelligent, as opposed to one of the groupies that often set their sights on Ryder.
“Who are you?” I asked, working to sound polite.
“Oh, I’m Erica Edmonds.” She extended her hand. “I met Ryder the other day while I was working on a story about how Salvation ousted Simon Stark’s plan to build a prison.”
I was pissed that Ryder didn’t tell me about meeting this woman, even though I knew I had no right to. We weren’t really a couple. And he wasn’t accountable to me.
Manners dictated I accept her hand, so I shook it and said, “His sister would be a better person to talk to.”
“Yes. I heard they arranged a fake marriage to thwart Stark. Amazing what people will do to get what they want.”
I nodded.
“Speaking of what they want, are you and Ryder an item?”
There’s no doubt that she’s interested in him. Of course, she was. Every woman was. Ryder had that je ne sais quoi that had women swooning. Even me, these days.
I wanted to tell her to keep her paws off my man, except he wasn’t my man. Not really. Once the bet was over, we’d go our separate ways. But right now, he was my fake husband. While our fake marriage was on, he needed to be faithful. I didn’t want a fake marriage with real infidelity.
“We’re friends, but we’re in the middle of a bet and celebrating the one-week anniversary of our arrangement.”
“Another fake marriage? Those seem popular around here.”
I could hear an undercurrent of amusement that annoyed me and yet, I’d be thinking anyone doing a fake marriage was nuts too.
“We’re trying to prove a point to his sister and brother-in-law,” I said, knowing that didn’t make our arrangement any less crazy.
“Which is?”
“How hard can being fake married be?” I didn’t know why I was telling her all this. Perhaps it was all the wine.