Page 31 of The Marriage Deal
She smiles. “I would love them even harder. Pain is part of life. There is no living without the threat of loss. There is no loving without the risk of heartbreak. But this is what makes the living and loving sweeter, my dear girl. It’s what makes it all precious.”
“How’d you get so wise?”
Nan chuckles again around a sip of her tea. Whisps of silver hair threaded thinly with black have escaped her long braid to dance in the breeze. “Life, love, loss, and pain, my sweet Lilah. It’s the melting pot of wisdom.”
“So, you think I should forget about Michael and jump headfirst into the frying pan with Briggs?”
“We all know how you love to jump,” Nan teases gently, the shades of her blue beaded earrings reminding me of the calm of Fire Falls in the morning, before it burns in the afternoon sun. “But no. I don’tthink you should jump. I do think you should give him a chance to prove himself one way or the other. Because remember, we’re not wholly good or wholly bad. We’re not simply one choice we make. We cannot bear the title of a single judgement through all stages of our life. Such a thing does not allow for growth. We’re an accumulation of the choices we make, dear girl, and I believe that this man who is playing for your heart has the right to prove himself here and now with you.”
She gives me her eyes, so wise. “I also think that you owe it to yourself, to give yourself the opportunity to see where life takes you. If you allow fear to hold you back, if you allow pain to keep you still, you will never experience. Never grow. Never live. Never love.”
“There’s that melting pot again.” My voice quivers with thick emotion.
Nan squeezes my thigh. “Sweet girl, I love you.”
“I know.” My heart is full, and my life is richer because of her love. “I love you, too.”
14
JUST FOR SHOW
LILAH
Briggs leans a shoulder into the wood post of the boardwalk, green eyes fixed on me as he lifts his to-go coffee cup—white with The Tasty Rise’s pink heat-buffer band—to his lips. He takes a long swallow of what I know must be burning hot coffee because Dad wouldn’t serve anything less, and Dad’s on shift this morning.
Briggs gives a slow nod as a noise of pleasure crawls up his throat. “That’s good coffee.”
A shiver of awareness I really shouldn’t be feeling curls around my spine. I cast my eyes back to the pot of petunias and the dead heads I’ve tossed into my little bucket. I’ve been at this pot for the last ten minutes, and I’m thoroughly ready to curse Agatha Willerby and her love of these flowers.
Maybe I’m ready to curse Briggs and the annoying shivers he comes with.
Or maybe I’m just ready to curse.
I’m in a mood today. I’ve been in a mood since dinner with the man last night, and I don’t know why.
Tucking my pink scissors into the back pocket of my shorts, I nab the coffee Briggs brought me. “Did you tell Dad this was for me?”
Briggs dips his chin in answer. I take a sip and shutter my eyes in a moment of pleasure at the familiar taste of my favorite creamed honey latte.
Then I warm. I’m not sure if it’s because the coffee is hot, the sun is hot, or Briggs’ gaze is hot. I sigh, relaxing before tensing as the man pushes off the post to prowl closer. Inside my chest, my heart is a wild mess that I’m careful to play off with disinterest as I pluck the scissors from my pocket to continue deadheading.
“You’re beautiful when you like something, you know?” His voice is low where he stands at my back. That shiver that’s been curled around my spine tightens like a snake. Deadly.
“I thought I wasn’t your type.”
“You can still be beautiful.” Goodness, the man is close. I can feel the heat of him at my back. The man is hotter than the Okanagan sun beating down on Canada’s desert. “You are beautiful, Lilah.” He dips his head over my shoulder, speaking close to the sensitive skin of my neck. I wonder if he can see the gooseflesh that rises on my skin. Wonder if he knows he’s the cause. “People are watching, little lunatic.”
I tense before I force myself to relax. Briggs leans forward to set his coffee next to mine on the lip of the stone flowerpot. I twist to lock eyes on him. “Why do you call me that?”
“I’ve told you.”
I roll my eyes but flash him a flirty smile, so no one thinks there’s even a hint of trouble in our paradise. “Right. Because it fits.”
“It does.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“It’s a perfect explanation. You are little and you are a lunatic. Ergo...”
