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She thought she saw a flicker of disappointment cross Ryder’s face, but then he nodded. “Lead the way.”
* * *
After that, it didn’t take much time to pick out a frame—simple yet elegant, personal yet distanced. They arranged for it to be engraved with Noah’s and Sabrina’s names as well as the date of the wedding (still too shockingly soon to seem real).
Once they were merely standing at the counter, handling the transaction, and signing the paperwork with an older gentleman clerk, the tourist family lost interest in them, wandering off to gawk at some other New York curiosity presumably.
As they prepared to leave the store, she noticed Ryder looking into a jewelry case, eyebrows knit. She was still feeling a little awkward about earlier, but something about his expression made her heart squeeze.
She leaned over beside him. “I never pegged you for the tennis-bracelet type,” she teased. “But that would look lovely with the matching pendant.”
He sighed. “I probably should get my mom something for her birthday.”
It was coming up in a few weeks. There was a big surprise party planned (as always—she didn’t think Cheryl had been surprised in years, but it was tradition by now). Vicky already knew what she was getting her. It was sort of sweet to see Ryder worrying about his gift. “Not a bad idea.”
He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair. “I never know what to get, though. It would probably help if we spoke more than a couple times a year. I usually just get roses. But now that I’ve been seeing her so much this trip, that seems sort of inadequate.” He moved down the case.
“Maybe earrings?”
He looked lost. Did he actually want to make some kind of peace offering to Cheryl? That would be amazing. For both of them. For the whole family. Not that it was her family, she reminded herself. But still. Cheryl was so special to her. And poor Ryder seemed so alone . . .
“I could . . . Did you . . .?” She cleared her throat. “I already had an idea for what I was going to get her. In fact, I was going to pick it up after we were done here. Maybe it would make sense for us to give her something together this year?”
He just sort of stared at her.
God, what a stupid thing to say. What was she thinking? He was barely a willing partner in their totally fake relationship. Of course, he didn’t want her interfering in his relationship with his family.
“Okay,” he said, jarring her out of her thoughts.
“Okay?”
His eyebrows pinched together, and he looked a little confused for a moment before he shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
Chapter Thirteen
Ryder was weirdly happy to be shopping for a birthday gift for his mother. She’d be pleased with him. There was that. He wouldn’t have thought it, but it seemed that was still something he got a (begrudgingly) good feeling from. At least if the past few days were any indication.
But also, he was relieved that after the awkwardness in Tiffany, Vic had still agreed to spend more time with him. He’d been toying with her (mostly). Her feathers were definitely fun to ruffle. But he didn’t want to ruffle them so much she didn’t want him around.
That idea sent a sharp pang through him. He didn’t feel much attachment to anyone these days, and he couldn’t explain why Vic was suddenly any different. But the idea of not having her around made him . . . well, kind of sad. There was no denying he had grown a little attached to her in the short time they’d spent together. Which was not his thing—at all—but there it was. Maybe it was because she didn’t treat him like a pariah.
There was no denying she was a gorgeous woman. An appealing woman. Sexy and powerful and—speaking of ruffling—
But no. He had plenty of women with various combinations of those attributes to choose from. What he didn’t have was one who knew him and liked him and, at least for the time being, wanted him around. Until now.
So he would help her with her PR strategy and keep any other thoughts that might arise to himself.
Vicky’s gift plan for his mother had been season tickets to the ballet series at Lincoln Center. She was right, Cheryl was going to love those. He remembered now watching her watch such things on TV when he was a child. Before the Prince Resort Hotels chain had taken off, when money was, if not tight, at least something they thought about before they spent, and the city was somewhere they went occasionally on special occasions.
He had a memory of climbing up onto the couch next to her when he was still a little kid and Noah was barely more than a baby. Sleeping in his crib, probably, at the time. Just him and his mom. She tried to explain Swan Lake to him, but he wasn’t interested. So instead, he just curled up at her side and fell asleep to the strains of the orchestra.
Anyway.
She would love those tickets.
It was twilight as they left the box office, strolling back across the paved plaza toward Vic’s waiting town car. He would see her off, then hail a cab and head . . . well, home. Because his agreement with Vicky wouldn’t let him do most of the things he might normally do with a night to kill in New York. But also because he didn’t feel much like calling up the usual suspects, partying, or getting into trouble. Huh. Go figure. The princess must be rubbing off on him.
It was unseasonably warm—in the low sixties he’d guess. Crazy for February. Vic and his Boy Scout brother ought to throw some of those foundation funds at global warming if they weren’t already. But the air was pleasant and the plaza fairly empty in the darkening light.
