Page 45 of The Paradise Problem

“That’s it? You’re not going to touch it? Inspect it? Drain it?”

Anna scowls at him, and with the circle of people watching, crouches down, setting two fingers on his leg. She immediately jerks her arm back. “Wow, it’s hot.”

“Is that normal?” Jake asks, feigning worry. “Are you sure I’m not going to lose it? It’s my favorite leg.”

“It’s normal,” Anna says, cheeks turning pink from embarrassment. “It’s the… blood, and oxygen… interacting…”

“With the inflammatory cells,” I break in, frustrated with Jake, and frustrated with myself for putting her in this position in the first place. “If I’ve heard her talking about inflammation once, I’ve heard it a million times. Luckily, Jake, it looks like you’re going to live.”

He frowns up at me. “I wonder if Anna should start an IV, just to be safe.”

“I could pee on it if you want.”

Reagan gags. “Gross.”

“I’m good.” Jake waves me off.

I take Anna’s hand and tug it. “Let’s go get a nap.”

To the side, Blaire sighs. “He means ‘Let me throw you around the bed until the party tonight.’ ” I look over right as she stares meaningfully at Alex.

We turn to leave, and my older brother calls after me, “Hey, remind me, Liam. When’s your wedding anniversary? Isn’t five years coming up?”

The group goes still. Anna and I look at each other. Fuck.

She says, “August fifth,” just as I say, “August twelfth.”

Anna laughs. “Well, technically the twelfth, but the fifth was when he wrote me a song and got on his knees to sing it to me, so that’s the night I see as our actual marriage.” She looks up at me, eyes soft. “He cried.”

I frown down at her. “I didn’t cry.”

“You mean you didn’t just cry. Sobbed is more like it.” She lifts my hand and gently kisses my knuckles. “It was beautiful, babe.”

My dad, having just ended his call, walks over to us. “The fuck did she just say?”

Anna smiles up at me. “Sing a little of it for me?”

“No.”

“Oh, please?” Blaire asks. “That’s so romantic. My husband’s idea of romance is three pumps and a high five.”

“I’ll sing it to you in the bungalow, Anna. Let’s go.”

Thirteen

ANNA

West follows me into the bungalow, and I look at him expectantly.

“What?” he asks.

“You know what.”

He scowls. “I’m not going to sing.”

Housekeeping has come and gone, and I fall back onto our fresh and very neatly made bed. “You made me a medical student and an avid co-exerciser who punishes you with great sex. What’s next? Did I save a bunch of orphans from a fire? Climb Mount Everest?” He walks around the small partition to turn on the shower, and I roll to my side, calling to him, “I toyed with the idea of saying you dressed up in a Breton shirt and beret and mimed a dramatic proposal but that seemed a little too far, even for me.”

He emerges while the water warms, scrubbing his face in frustration. “I think Alex is definitely suspicious.”

---