Page 36 of Where Happiness Begins

He blinks, not finding me funny at all. When he sees I’m not budging, he drags a hand over his jaw. “Can’t we start with an easier one?”

“You haven’t, like, hurt anyone, right?” Maybe my initial reaction of feeling safe with him was a bad one, after all.

“Course not,” he exclaims, face twisted in disgust, and for some reason, I trust it.

“All right. Then…” Something easy. “Favorite color?”

Even that takes him a moment to answer, like he has to think about it. I have a feeling getting answers out of him will be like prying bricks out of a wall.

When he finally answers, he stares right at me. “Blue.”

Huh. I would’ve expected something like black, considering that’s all he wears, but I’ll take it.

“See? Wasn’t that hard.” I shift onto the couch so I’m sitting on my heels, facing him. “Now another.”

“Fireball…”

“What? I need to know more in case I get interviewed by an FBI spy.” I grin, knowing very well this is a ridiculous excuse, yet also grasping at any straws that would allow me to know more about the man I married.

He rolls his eyes, a move that must be part of his DNA, and mutters something under his breath.

But still, he indulges me.

Chapter 15

“Lilianne Valeria DiLorenzo, what the hell have you done?”

The tone my grandmother uses is even more frightening than her words, especially since this is the first thing she utters the second I pick up her call.

“Nan?” I ask, afraid that something tragic happened and I missed it.

“Please tell me this was a prank and you didn’t get married in secret.”

My jaw hangs open and I let myself fall backward onto my bed, my laundry forgotten on the floor. “How…”

“I watch those videos you make. You know this,” Nan says, almost obviously rolling her eyes at me.

“No, Ididn’tknow.”

Shit. Of course I didn’t know. If I did, I wouldn’t have boasted about my new husband online before calling her. Not that I actually planned on telling her anything. I knew that lying to Nan would be close to impossible, but sharing the truth wasn’t an option either. I was secretly hoping I could prevent Nan from ever learning about Carter’s existence or the fact that we’re married. That was probably hopeful naivetéon my part.

“I can’t believe my only granddaughter had the guts to get married without even telling me. Is that a way to treat an old lady?”

Dramatic as ever. “I’m sorry, Nan, I—”

“Don’t apologize. Make it up to me instead.” She huffs. I can imagine her pacing inside her studio apartment, curlers in her hair and a flowery robe on her back, holding a pencil between her index and middle finger to help with the urge to pick up a cigarette instead. She only smokes on special occasions, as she likes to say, but it’s not the temptation that’s missing. Although maybe today, she settled on an actual one and opened the window so as not to get the residence administration on her back. That would be just like her. “I’m waiting for you and whoever this man is to be at my place at noon, and you better not be a second late.” Then she hangs up, leaving me babbling into the disconnected call.

This is bad. Really bad.

If there’s one person I can’t say no to, it’s Nan. First, because she wouldn’t let me, and second, because she’s the only family I have. Even as a child, I hated disappointing her, and the feeling has never gone away.

Which is why I immediately leave my room and holler, “Carter?”

It feels strange to be calling for him. I’ve never done so. Even though we eat most of our meals together, or at least side by side while I watch my TV show and he does what I think are sudoku puzzles on his phone, we rarely seek each other out, unless it’s to ask if he’s seen my hat somewhere or if I’ve touched his keys. Plus, we’re rarely in the house at the same time, but it’s Sunday morning, so it just so happensthat we’re both here.

Loud footsteps echo from the kitchen, all the way down to the hallway, and in seconds, he’s in front of me, eyes wide. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” I say at the sight of his alarm. “Nothing. Well, nothing that bad, sorry.”

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