“You’re a guy! That’s what guys do. Fast cars, fast women. I don’t want you to wake up next to me when I’m all pregnant and have regrets.” I teasingly squeezed the inside of his leg.

He started laughing. “How much money do you think I could make from all these women who want to have sex with me?”

“Billions!” I quickly replied.

“Really? Help me drag a mattress out into the front yard. You can sell lemonade and I’ll just fuck people all day!” he cackled.

The baby crawled over to Ryan and whacked him in the head with a wooden block.

“Ow!” He rubbed his forehead. “You’re right, Sarah. That was a bad idea. Uncle Ryan’s junk will fall off if I did that all day.”

She crawled onto his chest and slapped him a few times in the face.

“Hey! Why are you beating me up? Huh? Do I have a potty mouth? Go beat up Aunt Taryn – she’s the one who’s being silly.” He picked her up in his hands and pressed her up into the air.

Ryan sat Sarah on the floor and rolled to his side.

“Sarah?” Ryan whispered a whole bunch of nonsense in her ear. “Tell her!”

Ryan used his finger to make Sarah’s bottom lip move. His voice changed to a high pitch. “Uncle Ryan says he’s done sowing so you can just chill.” Ryan whispered in her ear again. “Uncle Ryan says you have to be married first before you have babies. And I stink so you should change me.”

“Give her to me,” I requested, reaching out for her.

I lay Sarah on the floor between my legs and grabbed the diaper bag. Ryan turned on the television, stopping on a channel just in time to hear some announcer say his name.

“Today on CTV…”

“We got Ryan Christensen in the airport in Providence with his new girlfriend.”

Large graphics streamed across the screen and the announcer’s voice came back. Different embarrassing pictures of Ryan were flashed between the verbal comments. “Keep your panties on Seaside fans! Just when you thought you saw it all – Ryan Christensen eats – Ryan Christensen picks his nose – Ryan Christensen sits in a car – we bring you…”

“We caught him feeling himself up.”

Video of Ryan patting his front and back jeans pockets when we were in the airport in Providence was shown on the screen.

“What’s up with this guy?” the obvious show host asked.

“I don’t know but our camera guy caught him feeling himself up before he went through the metal detectors,” some young guy answered.

“Feeling himself up?” the host questioned.

“Yeah, he was searching his pockets and stuff. I mean what idiot goes to the airport with change in their pockets!”

The video of Ryan patting his pockets now included me in the shot.

“Do we know who the girl is? Is she an actress?” The host circled my picture on his video screen.

“Her name is Taryn Mitchell. She owns a bar or something in Rhode Island.”

They showed old, random photos of Ryan with different drinks in his hand, pretty much accusing him of having a drinking problem.

“Wow, that’s impressive! Are all the girls in Hollywood dead?” the host sneered.

Everyone on the television screen laughed.

“I’m sure his fans hate her!” one woman commented.

A clip from an old black and white movie was shown. All the townspeople had torches and pitchforks.

Another girl chimed in. “She’s a lot prettier than Suzanne Strass, I think.”

“Yeah, and she can help him turn into another celebrity alcoholic!” some other man bantered.

“Our camera guy asked him if they’re officially a couple but he didn’t say anything. He’s dragging her through the airport by the hand. I mean, isn’t it obvious? I don’t know why he just doesn’t admit it. She’s not his wardrobe consultant that’s for sure!”

The picture refocused on me, on my face, and then zoomed in on Ryan holding my fingers as we walked through the airport. Sound bites of women crying were added in. The segment ended with repeat shots of Ryan feeling his back pockets and one more close-up of him shoving his hand in his front pocket. They even threw in sound effects of women moaning when Ryan patted himself down.

I let out a sigh and lifted Sarah up so I could fix her yellow tights over her new diaper. I gave her a few kisses on her forehead while she played with my heart necklace.

Ryan turned the television off and threw the remote onto the couch behind me. He looked like he just got punched in the stomach.

I reached out to him. We were both upset from seeing that garbage on TV. Ryan slowly moved to sit next to me on the floor. We leaned back on the couch and looked at each other. Ryan rested his arm behind me, combing his fingers into my hair; his other hand gently rubbed through Sarah’s little brown curls. He sighed heavily and I knew he was agitated.

I leaned over and kissed his lips, just to let him know that everything would be all right. His fingers tensed and pressed into my scalp, holding my kiss tenderly to his. His lips were troubled.

I wondered which one of us would crack from the bullshit first.

I spent the rest of the afternoon helping his mom in the kitchen. She was preparing a feast for Thanksgiving and I wondered just exactly who she thought was going to eat all of it. I handled making the brine for the turkey. His mom watched me intently as I mixed the concoction.

I was standing at the sink when Ryan came up behind me, holding me in place again with his long arms. He brushed my hair off my shoulder and drifted the tip of his nose up and down my neck. I tried to keep the volume of my moan turned down.

“As much as it warms my heart to see my son happy and in love, get the hell away from my helper,” Ellen squealed.

“You’ve had her long enough, Mom. We’ve got to go get ready for the game. Our car will be here in an hour.”

Soon after Nick and Janelle arrived, the sleek black stretch limousine pulled into the driveway. The four of us were going to the game together;

Ryan’s parents were watching Sarah for the evening.

“You should come home more often!” Nick teased Ryan, noting that the limo was fully stocked with beer, liquor, and two bottles of champagne.

Janelle was preoccupied; eventually she pulled a magazine out of her purse.

“Here, I thought you two might want to keep this one!” she teased and tossed the glossy paper onto Ryan’s lap.

Ryan took a sip off of the champagne bottle he and I were sharing and narrowed his eyes on the cover. He handed me the bottle and turned the little light on above his head so he could get a better look.