Page 38 of The Art of Dying

“Thanks,” I said. “But I can’t get my hopes up. Not about this. If she says no… it’ll kill me.”

“You know you can get married here?” Sloan asked. “The PVEC has a great ocean view, or you can get married right on the beach at La Casa. There’s a couple others, too, I’ll ask around.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said. “If she says she’ll consider it, I still have to propose.”

Kepner leaned forward, looking more like a teenager girl at a sleepover waiting for juicy gossip than a Marine. “How you gonna do it?”

I looked up at the ceiling again. “I have no idea, but it has to be good.”

chapter twelve.

Mack

Alecia took another shot, then chased it with a swig of her beer, the glass clinking against the table when she set it down abruptly.

“What did you just say?” she asked, eyes wide. “We’ve been at work all day, Mack.Allday! And you’re just now telling me this?”

“I didn’t want the wildebeest to hear. I wanted to tell you everything, and I couldn’t do that at work.”

“I was excited for you all to move in together. It’s fast, but I knew he was leaving, and you could build your relationship and get to know each other better while he was on post. If it went south, you still had your place. But… marriage? I don’t know, Mack.

I made small tears in the edges of the napkin that sat beneath my bottle of Coors Light. I shrugged. “I’d still keep my place. We talked about renting it out for extra income. Use part of it to pay Sully to manage both houses.”

“Oh, no,” she said. She held her fingers to her cheek and shook her head. She placed her palms on the table and leaned forward, more serious than I’d ever seen her. “Mack. You want to.”

“I don’t know what I want,” I said, feeling defensive.

Part of me believed Alecia would be happy for me like she was at dinner when Kitsch and I announced that we’d decided to move in together. But now that she explained why she was okay with it, I realized my mistake. Alecia wasn’t going to support me marrying Kitsch after a couple of months of dating. She wasn’t wrong, and I had no leg to stand on. But she was also right about something else: I wanted to.

She sat back and crossed her arms.

Ody’s was bustling with far too many people for a Tuesday night. A group of women celebrating a fortieth birthday was taking turns at the dart boards, the pool tables were full, and Dani was rushing around so fast she looked like a robot, bouncing back and forth between taking money, taking orders, running the cash register, and making drinks. The jukebox was playing songs we’d usually hear on the weekend. The whole town seemed to be celebrating something, and we hadn’t been invited.

Alecia leaned in again. “Okay. Tell me why you think this is a good idea. Besides that you miss him. It’s new. You barely got any time with him before he had to leave. Of course you miss him.”

“IfI married him, it would be because I love him. I want to be where he is.”

“As your friend, I have to tell you. I think it’s too soon. Yes, you lived with each other for a hot minute before he left, but let’s be honest. You were honeymooning. You were playing house. What if you get out there and don’t like who he is out there?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if Marine Kitsch is different from Quincy Kitsch?”

I shook my head. “He’s the same person all the time.”

“You don’t know that. None of us do. What are you going to do when he deploys?”

“I’ll work like I do here. Hang out with the other military wives. Explore California. Whatever I want.”

Two lines formed between Alecia’s brows as she listened, but then her gaze slowly moved to the entrance.

I looked over my shoulder toward loud cheering coming from the door.

“I’m going to need another shot,” Alecia said, staring at the commotion.

“I’m going to have to drive you home as it is,” I said, turning to see what or who was causing the gradual look of disdain to morph her face.

Mason stood by the door with Lucas’s brother Will, who glanced over at Alecia with an apologetic smile. Mason began making his way straight to us, stopping to greet people on the way. His reddish-brown whiskers had grown into a respectably full beard, his blue eyes twinkling under his long, dark eyelashes. His hair was faded, but the top was hidden by a tan ball cap. At first glance, in his well-fitting jeans, bright white shirt and olive-green, puffy vest, no one would ever know he was a monster. Even with muscles bulging from his sleeves, his flawless, soft smile made him seem safe, harmless even.

---