Page 43 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

“Yes,” she replied exasperatedly. “My brother has always had this fantasy of having a family of his own. I don’t know why.” She shuddered, wrinkling her beautiful nose. “But he has.”

“You don’t like children?” I asked.

“God no—I have no idea why anyone would purposely put themselves through that hell. They’re your responsibility for at minimum eighteen years. That’s a prison sentence.”

That got me. One of those deep belly laughs. Jupiter and I had very different views on child-rearing. “You’ve been so nice to Lauden and Corrine.”

“Ugh… they’re the only ones I can stomach and I didn’t like them until they got past all that crying.”

“So, cross your name off the list for babysitters, then?”

“Unless you want me to literally sit on your baby, which I fear is illegal and would probably send me to actual prison—and let me just say, orange isnotthe new black. It’s a gaudy color. I never wear it—then I think you know the answer to that.”

Good to know.

We ended up going for sushi. Healthy. Filling. And it didn’t leave me with a complex after seeing what Jupiter ordered. I’d put that in the win category.

Despite her insistence that she wasn’t a good person, I liked Jupiter. She kept the conversation lively with stories of her life pre campaign.

“Because nothing fulfills me more in life than aggravating my parents, I chose Princeton over Harvard. Talk about a scandal. After four years, I left with a degree in comparative literature—not that they expect me to work.”

“What do they expect you to do?’ I asked.

“Join the family business.”

“But isn’t that Parker Holdings?”

“Oh, I should amend—joining the family businessfor women.”

“Which is?”

“Finding a rich and powerful husband. The rich and powerful love to get richer and more powerful by joining families.”

That, I knew from Pen and Ant’s relationship. “Two powerful families becoming one.”Ugh…Both the McCains and Von Duttons shoved that down their children’s throats practically since birth. Only, Pen wasn’t supposed to marry Stanton. Herolder sister Gretchen was. Gretchen skipping town a month before the wedding turned out to have been the best thing in the world for the three of them.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“The only part that bothers me is spawning crotch goblins.”

I spit out my water that I’d just taken a sip of, coughing and choking. “Crotch goblins? How did they go from urchins to crotch goblins?”

“They’re urchins when you can send them home. But I guess that’s what nannies are for.” She popped a salmon covered sushi log into her mouth. She certainly kept me entertained for the duration of the lunch.

When I got home, I was met by my doting husband, who, knowing I needed it, whisked me up to the bathroom for a bubble bath, a bubble bath for two. Let’s just say the night went even better.

Finally, Saturday showed its ugly face, intruding on our lives. Maisie helped me into the V-neck, floor-length chiffon dress. I had to give it to the man, Morgan did beautiful work. The bodice he’d made from hand-sewn Italian lace and a flowing skirt with a long slit up the front. As I’d gone with lavender, he’d encrusted the lace with purple gems, and the belt around the waist was encrusted with diamond-esque rhinestones—at least I hoped they were rhinestones. I felt like a princess. My hair I’d done in a low side bun with curly tendrils framing my face, and I wore lavender silk sandals with a four-inch heel.

Seeing as I had a sort of dab hand at makeup, I chose to do it myself, expertly keeping it soft and elegant.

When I met my handsome husband down in the foyer, he threw a hand to his heart as his mouth dropped open. It took him several seconds to say anything, and when he did—God, Ilovedmy husband.

“There are no words,” he said. “You are truly stunning—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I smiled.

“Oh, no, you can’t do that. You smile at me like that and then I have to march you upstairs to make love to you. We’ll end up missing the dinner—which would probably be better for the other women in attendance.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

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