Page 21 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

CHAPTER SIX

With this ring, I thee wed...

Marriage is about forgiveness and understanding, right?

It’s about understanding that hot doesn’t always mean sane.

And it’s about hoping he won’t kill me when he finds out I lost the ring.

BECK

Hold on. This can’t be happening. He gave me his mother’s ring? The diamond ring he entrusted into my care is an heirloom, and I lost it. What if he wants it back? What am I going to do? It’s not like it’s in my jewelry box or lost in my handbag. It could be at the bottom of the San Francisco Bay or the Mississippi River or Lake Ontario for all I know. There’s no way I can dredge it up, even if I beg Liv for help. It’s gone, the way this marriage was supposed to be.

“Jump in.” Nox lets go of my arm to open the cab door.

“No. Why? What are we doing?” I stare at the truck interior. It’s neat and clean and awfully cozy.

“I’m giving you a ride back to the hotel. Don’t see a car, so I assume you walked.”

“I did.”

“Then jump in the truck.”

“I’m not getting in there.”

He shakes his head and his chest sinks. His shoulder muscles drop. “Why not?”

“Don’t they say you should never ride with strangers? Especially if they give you candy.” No idea why I’m saying this. Nerves. How long until he asks about the ring? And there’s not much room for two adults in that teeny enclosed space.

“Look, I’m not offering you candy if that helps.”

“But you smell like oranges, which is kind of the same.” Sugar and earth and sunshine. I noticed it again while he stood all too close to tell me his story. I’d been transported into Sophie and her mystery man’s moment, but if I’d turned to him would it have become our moment?

“Fucking oranges,” he mutters under his breath, before addressing me. “Are you always this difficult? You know you’re not five, right? The candy rule doesn’t apply. And I’m not actually kidnapping you.”

“Uh.” He has a point. At the same time I have no interest in riding with him. Or doing anything with him.

“I don’t have time for this.” He drops his hand from the door and takes a step toward me. “I have to get to work.”

I back up. Once. Twice. Each time he moves closer. “It does sort of feel like you’re trying to kidnap me.”

“Fine.” He pushes his hair out of his face with both hands and then turns around and closes the door before walking to the other side of the cab. “If you want to walk all the way back to the hotel in this heat, be my guest.”

He’s right. It is hot. Sweat makes my skin sticky. Sunlight pools on the blacktop, glimmers like water on the road. And the truck probably has air conditioning. Or at least it won’t take me forty minutes to get out of the heat.

“Okay, okay,” I mutter under my breath as I hurry toward the cab. He swings in the other side. Wrenching open the door, I climb in beside him.

“Buckle up,” he says, staring out the window at the old building.

Gripping the seatbelt, I pull it over my shoulder and clip it. “Can we go now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, as he starts the truck. Gravel crunches and hot air blows out of the vents. It takes a moment to cool down inside the cab while he turns the truck in a wide arc and onto the road that runs parallel to the studio.

A stretch of barren land runs along the opposite side of the tar strip we’re travelling on. As we turn onto the main road toward the hotel there’s a steel sign posted, proposing a new mall is to be built.

I never asked him what he did for a living. Although it’s been so long that could have changed several times. “What do you do?”

He’s quiet and when I turn to him it’s to find him frowning. Should I know the answer? Is he surprised I would ask? Or is it something he’s not proud of? His brow smooths out and he drums his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I run deliveries for the lumber yard across town, but right now, I’m on my way to give a couple of high school students guitar lessons.”

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