Page 9 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
“As far as the rest of it, I’m not here to force you into a relationship you don’t want, but I’d like us to at least be friends. We enjoyed spending time together in Vegas, didn’t we?”
We had. Spending time with him had been more fun than I’d ever expected.
Van waits, his brows expectant.
I simply stare, not giving him the answer he wants. If anything, this delights Van more than my agreement would have.
“If you’ll excuse me.” He tugs on the door handle again. “I don’t want my guitar to warp in the heat.”
“You play guitar?”
My question makes the dimple in Van’s cheek pop. “That didn’t show up in your report?”
“It mostly focused on whether or not you had a criminal record,” I tell him with an unimpressed glare.
Truly, I’ve always wished I could play an instrument. My mom had been disappointed that so many of the other girls in the beauty pageant circuit had been artistic while I’d been as creative as a cinderblock. Fortunately, I’d always enjoyed helping others, so my community work for local women’s shelters satisfied my hobbies requirement.
It’s something I still do today, though no one—not even my half-brother, Noah—knows I drive to the mainland to teach women self-defense and job interview strategies twice a week.
After another amused look from Van, I move out of the way.
Once he’s on the other side of the closed door, reality slaps my cheekbone. I’ve already accepted the news that I’d unknowingly married a stranger, but now that man will be occupying space not only in my mind but my house for the next three months.
I spin, looking out the window to find Van beside his white truck parked near the beach access at the end of the short neighborhood road. His easy smile graces his mouth as he chats with Carol. She glances toward my cottage, a wolfish grin on her wrinkled face. Van follows her gaze, waving at me and then blowing a kiss my way.
I let a growl rip free as my fingers fist.
This is what I get for letting my feelings take control. I should have listened to that protective voice in my mind that’d warned me not to extend our time together weeks ago. I should have insisted Van leave the second he arrived today. I should’ve kept myself more guarded against his effect on me, but Van’s effervescence is as addicting as exercise-induced endorphins.
Because as Van slings two duffel bags and a guitar case across his back, the sensation sprinting through my bloodstream isn’t dread. It’s wishful, foolish anticipation. And I know from experience what happens when I get my hopes up.
So as Van moves toward the house, I tug on my shoes, slip out the back door, and head toward my gym.
four
Van
“It’s real quaint, Mama. You’d love it.” I try to smile, though my stomach feels like it’s digesting itself.
This is why I don’t lie. This awful, nauseating sensation makes me want to heave up the gas station breakfast burrito I ate en route. But as much as I needed to be here, keeping my promise to Taylor, I also didn’t want to break Mama’s heart when losing her daughter already smashed it to smithereens.
So I’m lying. Just this once.
Just this one lie to keep my mother from worrying about me when she’s still grieving. Taylor’s unexpected death four months ago has already pushed back Mama’s wedding to her long-time boyfriend, Mark. I don’t need her to be anxious about her son spontaneously marrying a stranger.
We’ve all been reeling, trying to make sense of life without my sister. Mama had holed herself away, barely leaving the house, and I’d thrown myself into extra shifts at the hospital. The idea of me taking personal leave in this coastal Virginian town after working myself to the bone is something Mama can digest.
“And who are you staying with again?” she asks.
I switch hands on my phone since my nervous palms are sweaty. Of course, the ninety-degree temperature doesn’t help. There’s no sign of the ever-present ocean breeze I’d noticed on the weather app when I looked up Wilks Beach.
“My friend, Gen. She’s got a cottage steps from the beach. And the neighbors are really nice.”
This isn’t another lie, because even Carol softened a bit after I told her about my background. It’s not the first time that I’d mentioned being a doctor and someone’s behavior toward me completely changed. Often, it’s positive, but sometimes people will whip out a festering wound or questionable mole in public places. I once picked a woman up for a date, and her roommate unzipped his pants to ask if he had a hernia seconds after shaking my hand.
Carol didn’t ask for medical advice, just remarked that having an emergency physician in town could be helpful before giving me an unimpressed glare, efficiently undermining her words. Wendy pinched her arm, reminding Carol that they were supposed to be more open-minded about ‘mainlanders.’ When I asked what that meant, Wendy explained that Wilks Beach locals have a long history of being leery of outsiders, but they’re trying to be more accepting after a newcomer ended up being the perfect match for the town sweetheart.
“That sounds wonderful, but…”
