Page 40 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

“You knocked up some girl!” Carter flops back onto his bed, eyes wide, toothbrush still in his mouth.

That’s right. I’m calling an emergency “brothers only” meeting on video chat as I follow Marina around from apple tree to apple tree.

Yes, she is working on Saturday morning, even with only two hours of sleep and the traumatic events of last night. And yes, she is wearing one of my shirts and a pair of my shorts, both knotted up and belted so they have a prayer of staying on. She looks like she’s wearing parachute pants—and it’s utterly adorable.

“Met a girl. Want to marry her someday.”

“What?” Carter shrieks. “Marry? Oh, well, wait. You’re old. Mom won’t care.”

I glare at the “you’re old” remark. “Um. She might.”

“Is she white? Because if that’s why you think Mom’s going to disown you, your head is up your butt,” Cal says succinctly.

“It's because I’ve only known her for just over two weeks, but I feel like I’ve known her my whole life.”

“Sex must be amazing.”

“Stop talking like that, or I’ll let Marina handle you. She judo-flipped some handsy guy like Catwoman on steroids. Mhmm!” I can’t help but twitch at the memory. My voice is a sappy sigh. “She’s amazing.”

“Oh, hell. He’s serious.”

Cal gives me the no-go sign, arms crossed in an x. “You can’t tell Mom yet! Wait until Thanksgiving.”

“I will. She doesn’t have any brothers to look out for her, and she’s been in some real bad situations. Like—the worst you can think of.” I lower my voice and move away from the tree where Marina is working, making sure I still keep her in sight. “I’m talking aboutLifetimedocumentary levels of shit.”

Faces sober. Mouths silence.

Carter sighs. “She activated your savior complex, bro.”

“So what if she did? It’s not a complex if someone actually needs to be saved.”

“Objection,” Cal calls, one hand raised.

“What’d you do, switch to pre-law?” I snap. “Besides, there’s not a thing I can do to help her except be there.” My eyes find Marina’s shapely legs on the top rungs of a ladder. “I’d do that anyway.”

“If it’s a big secret, why are you telling us?” Carter groans. “Mom might use the potato salad treatment on us. Or worse, the deviled egg treatment.”

My jaw clenches. No one, possibly not even a hardened FBI interrogator, would keep his trap shut when faced with my mother’s deviled eggs. Monks with lifelong vows of silence would break out in hallelujahs after one bite. “Well... She’s not gonna travel with a bunch of deviled eggs. We won’t be in deviled egg range until Thanksgiving, and I’ll have told her about Marina by then. I mean, sheknowsabout her. She doesn’t know how serious I am. I just wanted to tell someone.” In case I lose her. In case something bad happens—the thing I can’t thinkabout. They say better to have loved and lost... I don’t want to lose her, and the hopelessness in her voice was so hard to hear...

“Kev? You okay?”

“I just... I really love her.” I cough and squint at the perfect, cloudless blue sky.

My brothers, Knuckle and Head, are totally somber when I look back at the screen.

“Can you put her on the phone,” Cal says simply.

“We have to have adiscussionwith her.” Carter makes air quotes with his fingers.

“She’s working. She works part-time at a farm. Picking apples.”

“White people, mountains, and picking apples. How much plaid is in your wardrobe now?” Carter cracks a tiny smile.

I match it with a sighing “Shut up.”

“I can take a little break, darling.” Marina is suddenly beside me. “I would love to meet your brothers.”

Girl must have sonar. I was at least twenty feet away, and my voice was low. “They want to meet you, too.”

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