Page 74 of Britta & the Beach Boy
Aside from not sealing the deal—as they say—I’m going to be sleeping by myself. Dex won’t be holding me or telling me he loves me. We won’t be talking about how happy we are that we finally tied the knot or that we can’t wait to spend our lives together.
Maybe I’ll have that someday, but it won’t be tonight.
The lights are out when I tiptoe to the bed. As I pull the covers up to my shoulders, I listen for any noise from Dex. I can barelymake out his form on the couch, but I don’t hear anything. Not even deep breaths that would show he’s asleep.
“Dex?” I whisper.
“Yeah?” he answers a few seconds later, and my chest loosens.
“Thanks for holding my hand today… I mean, on the High Roller.” I stare at the unfamiliar ceiling above me, the outline of the molding growing more visible as my eyes adjust to the dark. “I couldn’t have done that without you.”
“You wouldn’t’ve had to if not for me,” he scoffs.
“True,” I laugh, then pause. “But you made me feel safe.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted. That’s all I want for you with this whole thing—to feel safe.” His voice always has a hint of laughter in it, but not now. That, more than anything, underlines how sincere he is.
The room fills again with a lonely silence that makes my heart pound almost as much as it did when I saw the High Roller.
“Dex?”
“Yeah?” The sound of his voice quiets my pulse.
“You were really nice to that kid today.” I smile at the memory of the way Brody’s face lit up when Dex talked to him like they were already friends.
“That surprised you?” He shifts on the couch, and I can see the outline of his torso sitting up against the arm of the couch.
“No. Not at all, but it was still nice to see.”
“He caught me on a good day,” he deadpans.
“It was a good day, wasn’t it?”
Dex lets out a breath. “Yeah, it really was.”
We go quiet again, but the loneliness is gone. I’m not ready to go to sleep. I want to keep talking, but this is nice too.
“I was worried you might be sad because your mum wasn’t there,” Dex says softly, and my breath hitches.
“I wasn’t, Dex,” the words rush out. I couldn’t stop them if I wanted. “I didn’t even think about her, and that scares me. Itscares me even more than that stupid, giant Ferris wheel we got married on.”
My breath comes fast and heavy. I willnotcry. Not on my fake wedding night. It won’t change anything. I can’t go back and miss her while I was saying “I do” to a business arrangement.
Dex is quiet, and I wonder if he’s thinking the Olympics might not be worth three years with a crazy person who breaks into tears if her mom is mentioned.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to put that on you.” I control my voice until the end whenyoucomes out in a stagger.
From across the room, Dex lets out a frustrated sigh that only makes me feel worse. Then he pads across the room, probably to the bathroom. Except he stops next to the bed, his shadow falling over me.
“Move over,” he orders.
Without asking questions, I scoot to the center of the bed, and Dex climbs on, pinning the covers around me as he lies on top of them. He slides his arm under my head, pulls me close to his chest, and wraps his other arm around me.
“I call necessary hugging.” His lips brush the top of my head in what may be an accident or a kiss.
I hope it’s the second, because I’m already nestled into his chest, wishing the down comforter wasn’t between us, while burying my head into it to muffle my sniffling.
I don’t fool Dex. He rubs my back and whispers things like, “there, there,” and “let it out. I’ve got you.” Which only makes me cry harder, because it’s been a long time since someone’s had my back.
