Page 48 of Marrying the Gardener
Devoid of anger, Kaleb turns to me, still, stable. Very gently, he says, “Yes. To protect my little brother, Crimson? I would have done anything had I just been strong enough to.”
Further up the table, a pot shatters, then a little girl starts crying, reminding us both that we’re talking about premeditated murder in public, so Kaleb exhales a laugh. “Maybe…this conversation is better suited to the privacy of our evenings, Rose-red. I like fairytales. Besides gardening, I like fairytales. Is it my turn to ask a first-date question now?”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Do you know your love language?”
I arch a brow. “My love language? I thought love languages weren’t scientifically based and covered only a small portion of the possible ways there are to love someone?”
“Mine is acts of service.”
My lips part. “Really? Not physical touch?”
“If I had to rank them, physical touch is second, but acts of service mean the most to me.”
“Physical touch is probably last on my list, but I haven’t thought about it much before. I’ve never wanted to be in a relationship. I’ve spent most of my life hoping that myfather also wouldn’t be interested in pawning me off into one. Everything I do is fairly duty-based.”
“What about Crisis?” Kaleb asks. “How do you love each other?”
In every way I possibly can. Crisis is my thread of sanity in this world of anarchy. That woman talking to her fish makes my entire life better. She’s a beautiful bundle of chaos, and I would give her both my kidney and my unlocked phone in a heartbeat. “I think maybe quality time is my first choice. I like knowing that Crisis would drop everything if I needed her. Just sitting in the same room as her makes me happy. We don’t even need to be talking. Just having her there is enough.”
Kaleb scoots his chair slightly closer to mine. “I like that one, too.”
Inexplicably, my skin reacts to his closeness, raising the hairs on my arms. “That’s not an excuse for you to hang around me more. We’re already together alot. I do need my personal space.”
He kisses my cheek. “I’m not going to be anywhere you don’t want me, Crimson. Promise.”
The way he says as much makes me think that he’s not going to be anywhere I tell him not to be, but everywhere else? Everywhere I don’t specifically forbid? He’ll be there. Waiting. Curling up in all the nooks and crannies.
Whether I realize it, or not.
Chapter 15
?
Seventy percent effort.
Crimson
“Monopoly is ninety percent luck and ten percent skill, according to some experts,” I say, glaring across the board at Kaleb, who came with me to a thrift store this lovely Tuesday morning, picked up this wretched board game, and said—so simply—quality time?
It’stimeall right. I’m not sure about thequalitypart.
And, also, the game had all the pieces, cards, and parts—except thedog. I’m the stupid hat while Kaleb is, naturally, the wheelbarrow.
Counting his stacks of brightly-colored paper money, he smiles at me. “Are you sad because you’re staying the night in a lavish hotel on my Boardwalk, baby?”
“Don’t youbabyme outside of designatedbabyzones,darling.”
We have been sitting here.
On the floor.
In my bedroom.
For six hours.
It’s past midnight, and the moon is large and full beyond my balcony windows. It’s a great thing that the pool party I have to go to tomorrow starts late and ends later. Shifting my sleep schedule several hours forward for this isn’t a detriment to anything but my mental health.
