Page 134 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

I talked to my best friends or my mom on the phone every day while I cooked and cleaned and gossiped with the women. I found out that Adelajda Balik, Bazyli Balik’s wife—Bazyli the elder was one of the most prominent men in the village—anyway, she ran off with Szymon Dabrowski, the courier who came through town twice a month. And when their families wanted him to go after her, he refused. It turned out he’d been having an affair with a young woman named Pola, who was somecousin of our family. She was four months pregnant with his baby.

We never got this kind of juicy gossip back home. Probably because it didn’t hit the same in Detroit, where no one cared if you had a baby and you weren’t married. And people left their spouses all the time.

The night before we left, Blake and I lay in bed. He held me in his arms,erotic romance novelkissing me. When he finally pulled away, ready to take this thing to the next level, I looked him in the eyes, smiled, and asked, “What do you think of the name Antonina?”

His eyes comically widened and dropped to look at my belly, then back up to me.

“Are you serious?” he asked, and I picked up a hint of trepidation mixed with hopefulness in his voice.

I nodded. “We forgot the condom our first night here.”

My husband attacked me.

Uncle Alfred was in for a night ofsqueak, squeak, squeak, bang, bang, bang, andscrape,scrape, scrape.

Allnight long.

He’d just have to deal.

I loved my life.

Thank you for reading! I hope you loved meeting Blake and Gloria. If you haven’t read my first Rom-Com series yet, let me introduce you to SKYDIVING, SKINNY-DIPPING & OTHER WAYS to ENJOY YOUR FAKE BOYFRIEND, you can read it here.

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You also might be interested in The Consolation Bride. It’s the first book in the Unexpectedly Married series. If you haven’t read it, here’s a sneak peek at the bonus first chapter.

Bonus First Chapter

“And so it begins.” I leaned over to whisper to Gabby, my sister’s best friend, as my mother, Mrs. Evelyn von Dutton—yes, of the Grosse Pointe Shores Von Duttons—clinked her crystal champagne flute three times to get everyone’s attention. Her delicate, bird-like physique was accentuated by the golden cream silk dress that she wore tonight to upstage the bride in her stunning green. My mother and her magical superpower, her ability not to age. Flawless porcelain skin kept tight and elastic. Thick hair pulled up in a twist. We got the “are you three sisters?” question all the time.

It was a well-known secret that mother took trips to “rejuvenating spas” every couple of months and came back having shaved years off her appearance. Funny how the spa was located next to one of the country’s most renowned plastic surgeons. She used to be a deep brunette just like my sister and me, but after each of those refresher visits, she returned with hair a little bit blonder than before. Evelyn considered aging acongenital disease that we Von Dutton women inherited from her and were expected to fight to the very end.

My father stood to her left and slightly behind her with his hands resting on her hips in his stance of solidarity. He looked as handsome as ever in his silk Armani suit. He felt no need to cover the slight graying at his temples because for a man, especially a man of wealth and power such as my father, gray looked distinguished.

“Thank you all for joining us today to celebrate the engagement of our beautiful daughter Gretchen and her perfect match, Mr. Stanton McCain. Gretchen and Stanton have been in love for as long as any of us can remember. We are so pleased to finally be uniting our families.” My mother had a way of making every word out of her mouth sound pretentious. Like Mrs. Howell fromGilligan’s Island. I held an affinity for vintage things such as vintage television shows thanks to my defacto-grandparents Alessandra and Rochester our married housekeeper and grounds chief who’d taken me and my sister under their wings years ago—without my parents' knowledge—and given us, or at least me, a relatively normal childhood when our parents were simply too busy to parent.

Everyone clapped. Of course they did. My eyes slid over to where the happy couple stood, Stanton’s arm wrapped around my sister’s waist, both of them wearing huge smiles. Beautiful Stanton, tall and broad-shouldered, with a face like a movie star. He wore his deep chestnut hair styled business cut but his most defining feature had to be his storm-cloud gray eyes. I sighed, momentarily forgetting myself. My sister in her emerald green silk looked just like our mother, but still wearing her naturally deep brunette hair twisted up in a ridiculously expensive updo. I tended to do my own hair. It was fun for me to play with styles and I’d gotten good at it over the years. Only a professional could touch my sister’s locks. But maybe that was whyshegot Stanton.

Our fathers had done business together for years. Our mothers sat on boards for charities together and lunched regularly.

Stanton and Gretchen: the perfect couple.Not.

It wasn’t sour grapes. I was happy for them if this was what they wanted, but I’d just never understood it. Ant and I—Ant, the name I’d called Stanton since probably the first day we’d been introduced as kids. “Stanton” had seemed too stuffy. Ant, he and I always had more in common. He loved going down to Comerica Park to watch the Tigers play. I loved going to Comerica Park to watch the Tigers play. Gretchen only went to PGA tournaments and tennis matches. Ant and I both loved the travel channel and cooking. Two things that my sister would have nothing to do with. Forget about eating a drippy burger, Gretchen never ate anything without a knife and fork unless it was an hors d’oeuvre like caviar.

Seriously, only two years separated my sister and me. So it wasn’t like he’d be robbing the cradle. But for Ant, it had always been Gretchen. Maybe because of that more refined, highbrow nature or maybe because her boobs were about a half a cup larger than mine. It could’ve been her chiseled cheekbones or her deep, ocean-blue eyes. My cheeks had a bit more roundness to the apples and my eyes… Somehow, I’d ended up with a muddy brown.

The worst part for me had to be that my sister simply wasn’t nice. The world revolved around Gretchen. If by chance, you found yourself in the position where you outshined her in some capacity, big or small, her congratulations came in the form of an obvious backhanded compliment.

Matthews, our butler, because yes, our family had a butler, approached my mother. “Ms. Von Dutton, lunch is ready to be served.” He came to work for the family a couple of years ago after our first butler, Randall, retired. He was nice but kept tohimself or the other staff, never engaging much in conversation with me. Tonight he wore his navy blue jacket with the family crest embroidered over the breast pocket. Again,yes, the family had a crest. My mother had the staff dress in uniforms at all times while out among the family and guests. Why? Just–why? But he learned the hard way, from what I’d been told after the fact because I’d still been away at school, that he learned the hard way to always defer to my mother in the presence of large groups. Parties were her artistic medium. Gretchen was the apple that didn’t fall far from the tree.

“If everyone would please make their way to the dining room. Lunch will be served,” Mother said.

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