After he left with his tail tucked between his legs, I asked Ed, “Is he going to be a problem for you?”
“I’m not sure. My gut tells me as long as I don’t discuss his interest in marrying Jess with anyone, he’ll behave. I think it’ll only be if he feels like his reputation is being threatened that he’ll try to cause problems.”
“That sounds about right with men like Kevin.”
While I was dead serious about making him drink out of a straw for a year, there were other ways of dealing with Kevin. All I needed was an afternoon and an internet connection to make him question all his life choices.
“Why do you want to marry my daughter?”
Finally, he was concerned about my intentions.
“Because I care about her—and Ruthie.”
And I don’t want to see her married off to someone like Kevin.
Of course, I kept that to myself.
“How do I know you’re serious about marrying her?”
I pulled the black velvet box from my front pocket and opened it to show him the two-carat diamond I’d picked out that afternoon—with the help of my mom.
The jeweler said I could exchange it if Jess didn’t like it.
His eyes got big, and he let out a low whistle. “I guess you do care about her. When were you planning on giving her that?”
“I thought after dinner I’d take her out for ice cream and ask her then.”
“And when are you going to marry her?”
“The sooner the better.”
Ed nodded as he stared at the ring. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jessica
After I finished setting the table, I told Mama I was going to check on Ruthie, then change for dinner. But when I looked in my closet at all the unshapely dresses, I wanted to cry.
But it was either one of them or yoga pants, and since I knew my parents would frown upon that—I opted for the least frumpy dress hanging up.
It was mint green, so the color flattered my hair—which I quickly curled and styled. And even though I’d refused to wear any when Kevin had come to dinner, I dabbed on some lip gloss.
After examining my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but sigh out loud at how dowdy I looked.
Why would Alan want to marry someone as mousy as me?
The answer seemed obvious—he felt sorry for me.
As much as that realization pained me, it was still a better alternative than being the next Mrs. Roberts or being disowned.
I pinched my cheeks so they’d have some color, spritzed my wrists with perfume I’d gotten for Christmas in tenth grade, then kissed a sleeping Ruthie’s forehead before heading downstairs.
I could hear voices coming from the dining room, so I walked in there. My gaze immediately found Alan’s, and he stopped with his water glass midway to his lips.
“You look beautiful.”
I knew that wasn’t true, but my parents did raise me to have some manners, so I gave him a polite smile and said, “Thank you.”
