Page 31 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
The only reason I’m telling Brynn the truth is because Van has Noah to confide in. They’ve been hanging out when they’re both free. I know I could—in theory—talk to my brother as well, but we never have.
Of course, I’ve never really talked to Brynn either. But of the women I went to Vegas with, Brynn is most like me. Logical. Practical. I’m assuming she’ll understand my viewpoint more than romance-obsessed Vivian or boyfriend-committed Summer and Cade.
Brynn is single, like me.
I know I’m nottechnicallysingle, but close enough.
Normally, I’d have no issue working through my problems by myself, but I never accounted for how having Van in my space would rattle me.
He’s always doing something. The only time he takes a break is when his mother calls to catch up. At first, I thought he’d spend the rest of the week relaxing at the beach, and we’d keep to our separate schedules, but he’s taken on his half of the housing bargain like I’ll evict him at the slightest infraction.
On Monday, he borrowed someone’s power washer and cleaned the siding, the front walkway, and the backyard deck. Tuesday, while I’d been volunteering, he set up an outdoor area rug, table, and chairs on the deck, and strung globe lights around the perimeter of the yard.
Wednesday, he tackled the front door before I kicked him out of the house. He came back a few hours later after learning to surf with Nick, Summer’s boyfriend, jubilant and a little sunburnt. I should have escaped to my room but ended up hovering in the kitchen as he recounted his many failed attempts to get on his board, trying not to laugh.
Early Thursday morning, I thought I heard him rummaging around the kitchen, probably trying to fix my slightly uneven cabinet doors, but he’d been in the middle of a bodyweightworkout. His bare feet had been on the stair overhang while he did inverted pushups in only his scrub pants. I might have monitored his form for a few reps—in a purely professional way—before I crept back to my bedroom. Later that day, when I returned from volunteering, there was a hand-me-down table for two with mismatched wooden chairs in the kitchen.
This morning, I woke up exhausted, probably from the emotional stress of having someone else in my space or from the extra workouts I’ve been doing to avoid said handsome person. I’d planned on lying around, but Van asked if we could take another trip to the mainland to pick out curtains. Even though he keeps his belongings tucked behind the couch, Carol Cook had been lurking around the front windows.
We somehow ended up getting a trio of baby boxwoods for the empty landscape bed that lines the front of the house and, after a twenty-minute standoff, a welcome mat. I fought Van until he found one in the back of the pile, extending it to me with a dimpled smile. It saysGo Awayin pretty, swirly script, and I love it more than I ever expected.
“Feels like a lot of trouble for a stranger.” Brynn’s voice brings me back to the present.
“There’s also Joanna. I’m mostly doing this for her.” What used to be the truth feels ashen on my tongue, but it also could be because I’ve been heavily mouth breathing for the past half hour. I’ve probably gotten half of my protein goal by accidentally ingesting bugs. “Where’s the turnaround point?”
“Just ahead,” Brynn tells me, impossibly picking up speed. “What does this have to do with Joanna?”
In as few words as possible, I explain the situation—mostly because I’m winded. I’m also hotter than I could’ve imagined. Exercising in the direct late-afternoon sunlight isn’t something I’ve done in years, and if the sweat pouring into my shoes is any indication, I’m woefully unprepared for the elements. Idon’t have AC in my gym, but three industrial fans and an iced watercooler keep my patrons from passing out. That, and all my classes are in the evenings, except the two I offer on Saturday mornings.
“I get it,” Brynn says, her voice softening. “I’d do anything for my family too.”
Silence stretches between us for a few heartbeats before Brynn continues.
“I only wish I’d paid more attention to Vivian’s happiness. I thought she was content with it being just the two of us. I thought she liked our life. I hadn’t meant to hold her back. It’s just…bad things happen when I deviate from my routines. Or at least they have in the past, so I thought—” She shudders, her confident footfalls stumbling for the first time since we started. “But that doesn’t matter. My mental blocks shouldn’t have made her feel like I wasn’t on her side when she’s themost importantperson in my life.”
I don’t know what to say.
I don’t have a person like that in my life. Joanna, I suppose. And Noah. But I don’t have the relationship with them like the one that Brynn has with her twin. The two of them love each other unconditionally, know and accept each other’s best qualities and seedy underbellies. Meanwhile, I’ve been hiding behind a tough exterior, terrified that if I let Joanna or Noah see the real me, they’ll reject me like everyone else did.
“Halfway.”
Brynn slaps a split rail fence before leading me across the road so we’re facing non-existent traffic on the way back. Not many islanders leave on Friday evenings, opting to either compete at the library’s weekly bingo game or enjoy a peaceful meal at Bayside Table. Of course, I’m supposed to have dinner at Joanna’s in two hours, which is why I texted Brynn in the first place.
That, and to get out of the house while Van played guitar.
It’s no surprise that he’s incredibly talented—genius brain and all that—but his repertoire keeps grating on my nerves. Van sings ninety-eight percent country music, which wouldn’t be a problem, except they’re all love songs. I’m inundated daily with lyrics about how much the songwriter loves the woman in his life, how dedicated he is to their family.
Yeah right. What a bunch of lies.
None of that is real. I know because my favorite pastime before Van occupied my living room was to watch the entertainment news showCelebrity Circuit.On that show, I’ve seen singer after singer get divorced because they’ve had an affair, DM’ed some underage fan, or were caught on hotel security footage with a leggy concierge.
“If it helps,” Brynn adds, “I did some research as soon as Carol came running into the shop, telling me you two were married. As far as mainlanders go, Van seems like a really good guy.”
I already know this from my own report, but Brynn doesn’t need to know about the depths of my distrust.
“I’m not worried about him dismembering me in my sleep. My concern is how hard this will be on Joanna when it all falls apart.” Andit willfall apart. “She…she wants to give me her grandmother’s wedding ring at dinner tonight.”
Brynn is silent for a beat. The only sound is the layered chirping of crickets, the pounding of our feet on the pavement, and the exhausted thudding of blood in my ears.
