Page 92 of Good For Me

“River—”

“Not all of them, Jas,” he says. “But we’ll have the photographer include you in a few group shots. And maybe a couple of the two of us.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I argue, nervous suddenly. It feels wrong to me, somehow, that I might be included in the official record of this day. The Ransomes have been totally welcoming and generous to me, but there’s a very good chance that once they find out about the pregnancy they won’t be feeling nearly so friendly.

And if River and I don’t end up raising this baby together, I doubt anyone is going to want to see my face in the wedding pictures.

But I can’t think of a way to say any of that, not with his cousins only a few feet away. So I try to swallow down my misgivings and follow River over to the photographer.

* * *

Cocktails are followedby a massive sit-down dinner. The tent has been decorated with more flowers than I’ve ever seen in my life, every spare surface covered in candles. It’s most definitely the fanciest event I’ve ever been to, but the food is anything but pretentious. Apparently, they went for Eva and Will’s favorite foods, the caterers putting a classy spin on hamburgers, tacos, and mac and cheese. There’s even a pancake bar—Cash flew the staff of the couple’s favorite LA breakfast place in to make them specially.

I’m feeling stuffed and very satisfied by the end of the meal. I catch River looking at me with a fond expression more than once. “What?”

He shrugs. “Just thinking how much nicer you are to me when you have a full belly. Need to remember that for later—when in doubt, feed you.”

I laugh. “It’s not a terrible strategy, actually.” I look around the gorgeous tent. “So, what happens now?”

“I’m not sure. Wasn’t really involved in the wedding planning. I imagine there’s going to be dancing soon, because this gang loves to dance.” He gestures at the stage, where a live band is currently playing muted jazz. “Since there are instruments within a hundred-yard radius, I’m sure half the members of my family will be playing before the night is over.”

“Do you play?” I ask.

He rubs the back of his neck. “A little.”

I stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He sighs. “I’m decent at piano and guitar. I can hold my own on drums but there are about ten people better at drums than me in this family, so I rarely play them.”

“You can play three instruments?” I ask, surprised.

He shrugs, looking embarrassed. “It’s pretty much impossible to grow up in this family and not play something. My grandfather started teaching us practically before we could walk.”

I jerk my head toward the stage. “Are you going to play tonight?”

“God, no.” He sounds horrified by the very idea.

“Why not?”

He laughs. “No one wants to hear me play, Jas.”

I frown. “Why wouldn’t they?”

His eyes flash. “You know who my dad and uncles are, right? It’s not an exaggeration to say my Uncle Cash is one of the best guitar players in the world. And Will might be even better. Wyatt has played piano with symphonies all over the world. Eva is a platinum selling artist. My grandma can sing the house down and my grandfather plays drums better than anyone. Why in the hell would anyone want to hear me play over any of that?”

I don’t like the expression on his face right now. His voice is almost normal—maybe the slightest tinge of bitterness—but I can tell the good-natured self-deprecation he’s trying to insert is forced. This is a sore subject for him.

“Is that why you didn’t go into music as a career?”

He rolls his eyes. “I said I could play a few instruments, Jas, I didn’t say I was anywhere good enough to make it a career.”

“But could you have? If it was something you wanted?”

“It wasn’t something that I wanted,” he snaps.

I sit back, a little surprised. I can count on one hand the number of times River has ever snapped at me before.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck again, a motion I’m starting to realize is a sign of frustration. “I just…making a career in music was never my thing.” He shrugs. “It’s always just been a fun hobby. Like surfing and skating.” Something twists in his face and he sighs. “That’s pretty much me, right? Guy with a bunch of hobbies and no real plans.”

I really don’t like the expression he’s wearing. He looks…ashamed.