The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,159
out of her way to make Julia feel welcome, inviting her to do everything with her, including sitting on the patio to read. I cannot imagine being in a loveless marriage. And with a baby on the way.
It’s terribly sad.
“Faye,” Olivia gasps when I present her with the charcuterie board, “that’s stunning. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat it; it’s so lovely.”
I glow with pride, soaking in her approval like I’m basking in the sun. “Thank you.” She opens the refrigerator for me, so I can slide it on the empty shelf reserved for the large slate. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”
“There’s a stack of blankets on the patio. Would you mind asking Kaden to help spread them out? I was thinking we could connect them in one long line looking out toward the ocean. Wherever is the flattest area.”
“Sure,” I reply.
When I pass by Julia, she still refuses to look at me. I feel bad for her, but I’m not about to crumble their marriage by confirming what she instinctively knows to be true about his infidelities. And according to Damon, he does not flaunt but will never deny if she asks—which she never has.
It’s horrid that he’s given up on a marriage without inserting any effort. I don’t pretend to condone his choices, no matter how he’s tried to explain the natural tendencies of the male species. It’s deplorable. And I’m thankful Kaden is absolutely nothing like Damon Thorne. They’re as dissimilar as Maggie and me.
“Perfect timing,” Kaden calls to me when I step out into the heated summer air. Even the breeze off the water feels like a warm breath on my face. “Can you hold up these poles so I can secure the lines? Someone”—Kaden pointedly eyes Parker, who just sits on the grass giggling—“is too busy catching grasshoppers to do his job.”
“Grasshoppers are my job,” Parker argues, still laughing as one tickles his cupped palms. “If I don’t catch them, they’ll hop away.”
I smile at an answer only a four-year-old can give. “Then will you help me spread out the blankets after?” I ask Kaden, who gives me a quick kiss when I take hold of the pole for the badminton net.
“Anything you need,” he replies, kissing me again, lingering a little longer.
Parker’s laughter breaks us apart, reminding us we have a young audience.
“Are you guys going to get married?” he asks.
“Yes,” Kaden answers without hesitating, making my heart flutter in my chest. “And you can carry the rings down the aisle.”
“How old will I be?”
“Older,” I tell him, still absorbing that this is real. This life. This love. This boy. It feels like a dream I’ve been wishing for my entire life. When Kaden flashes me his beautiful smile, I mouth, I love you.
And the smile takes over his entire body, as if he’s exuding joy.
Maggie arrives soon after the group returns from their sail. She’s dressed in a cute, strapless floral top with a pair of red shorts. Her hair is tamed for the first time ever. And she’s wearing a pair of vintage cat-eye sunglasses that make her look like she could be Audrey Hepburn’s sister.
“I have to talk to you,” she says to me, glancing around nervously. Despite needing privacy, her mouth keeps fighting a smile, and she’s fidgeting with excitement.
“Okay,” I say, knowing Parker is upstairs and the food is ready to be laid out once everyone has finished changing. I’ve transitioned into a pink-and-green halter sundress that screams summer and also flatters my not-so-curvy body with its A-line silhouette.
I lead Maggie to the beach, knowing we’ll be well out of earshot by the water.
As soon as we reach the bottom step and our feet hit the sand, Maggie blurts, “I’m pregnant.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She’s practically jumping with elation, and I feel like I should be happy if she’s happy, but I’m … confused.
“That’s … good,” I say without conviction.
Maggie slides her glasses back to rest on top of her head and rolls her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I know who the father is. It’s the guy I met earlier this summer. The one I’ve been sneaking around with all weekend. And he’s going to be so excited, trust me.”
“What’s his name?” I ask, suspicious of the lack of information she’s provided about this guy ever since she met him—other than their torrid love affair.
“I can’t tell you just yet,” she says, biting her lip.