some fresh air. Let’s get your stroller, big girl.”
He was right. By the time we finished a big loop through town and the park, I was feeling much better. It was hard to stay down when Parrish’s sweet voice was laughing and spinning tales of the unique job applicants who’d shown up for interviews with his store manager today. When we got home, I even discovered the casserole from Miss Sara was a vegetarian pasta dish with tons of fresh veggies in it.
Everything was going to be okay.
“This is not fucking okay,” I hissed at Parrish the following late afternoon as we walked to the park again to meet Brooks and Mal for the music picnic or whatever it was. “You told me to pull Stewie off the case because of Beau’s big Nashville lawyers, and now the Nashville firm can’t see us till Monday. I needed someone today, and they didn’t fucking show! The Kensingtons are taking her for an overnight visit and—”
Parrish interrupted me with a hip check. “Cut it out. And stop using that language in front of Marigold. I already told you, the man’s wife went into early labor, and he had to turn back to meet her at the hospital. It was too late to get anyone else there. Would you have wanted him to miss his own child’s birth just so Mari didn’t have to spend one night with the Kensingtons?”
Before I could snap, “Maybe,” like I wanted to, a chorus of voices shouted, “Surprise!”
I glanced up and saw half the town staring at us with expectant smiles on their faces. Parrish and I froze like hunted rabbits.
“What’s happening?” Parrish whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“Fuck,” I said.
“Language,” he muttered before pasting on a big fake smile. “What’s all this?”
Ava came to the front of the crowd with Parrish’s uncle. “We wanted to throw you an engagement party! We’re so excited for you two. Paul’s opening the champagne so we can all drink a toast to the happy couple.”
Beau’s eyes sparkled as he reached down to the stroller for Marigold. “Come here, sweet angel. Let me show you off to your great-aunt Marnie.”
Before I knew it, the baby was gone, a plastic flute of champagne had been thrust into my hand, and everyone was bombarding us with their well wishes.
Parrish took to the attention as if he’d been born to it, which I suddenly realized he had. He chatted and tittered and smiled and mingled like a champion while I stood next to him like some kind of creepy sidekick who thought a canapé shaded people from the sun.
I felt uncomfortable in my skin. I felt like I was a bug under a microscope. And I felt, more than anything, that I was finally seeing Parrish in his natural environment. Everyone loved him. He was engaging, entertaining, and attentive. Somehow he knew all the right words to say when someone asked about wedding venues and themes, and when his aunt Marnie asked him whether we were going to go with tuxedos, morning suits, or white tie and tails for the wedding, Parrish seemed to know the difference between the three.
I was out of my element, and it showed. Parrish was right at home in society like this, and here he was having to pretend he was marrying the runaway dropout junk dealer whose most prized possession was his chicken collection.
This was so wrong.
As the party continued, my happy bubble of enjoying Parrish while I had him began to thin and tear. Was enjoying this man’s company causing him more harm than good? What would his friends and family say when he ended up jilted before the month was out?
“Hey, I grabbed you some of these little drummettes,” Parrish said, handing me a plate with two tiny chicken legs on them. “They’re teriyaki flavored with fresh pineapple.”
My stomach churned as I stared down at yet another example of my string of lies. I glanced up to meet Parrish’s eyes. He must have seen something in my expression because he took the plate back and tossed it in a nearby trash can before grabbing my face and pulling it close to his.
“Talk to me,” he said softly. “What’s going on? You’ve been in a funk since I got to your house.”
I cared about him so much. I wanted him with me forever. It was as clear as the crisp Tennessee sky on a glorious day in September, but I couldn’t tell him that.