Page 13 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
“Please,” I mouth.
Van’s straight blond hair shifts over his forehead as he shakes his head.
Not beyond begging, I clutch my hands in front of my chest. This time, my “Please”is a hushed whisper. Van’s gaze darts from my joined fingers, to my face, to my surrogate mother still clinging to him.
“Fine,” he mouths back.
My relieved exhale is noisy, drawing Joanna’s attention.
“Did you say something, Geneva?” Her chin-length curly hair bounces around her round face as she lets go of Van.
“No.” I slide my wrapped hands into a crossed-arm position. It feels awkward, though I often stand this way.
“Okay.” When a genuine smile lifts Joanna’s lips, the tension in my spine eases. “Well, I’m off to finalize things with Clara for the party tonight.”
“What kind of party?” Van asks after a beat.
“Yours, of course. To celebrate your nuptials. The whole town is coming out.” She beams, more radiant than I’ve seen her in a long while. “Seven o’clock at Bayside Table.”
Van barely breathes as Joanna squeezes his fingers on her way out.
She pauses before slipping under the garage door. “Just so,sohappy.”
We both watch, stunned, until Joanna is beyond the view of the windowed garage doors.
“Gen, I can’t—”
“Let me think,” I cut him off, beginning to pace.
I bite my thumbnail, my brain more fried than a phone left in the August sun. Dozens of options present themselves and are swiftly dismissed. The only thing I know for sure is that I can’t let Joanna down—not after everything she’s done for me. Almost instantly, the memories of how I ended up in Wilks Beach, of how Joanna selflessly took me in, overwhelm me. I press mylashes closed to push the thoughts away just as another idea pops into my mind.
“We’ll get divorced.” I stop pacing to face Van. “I mean, we were going to get divorced anyway, but we’ll divorce publicly. A messy, ugly divorce after three months. You can do something horrendous and—”
“Why am I the one to do something horrendous?” Van’s hands settle on his hips.
I snort. “It’s usually the man who screws things up.”
“Not this man.”
“What does it even matter? You won’t be here anymore. Who cares if people from a tiny town think you’re the villain?”
Van steps closer, his jaw tight. “I care.”
Warning flashes in my mind, but the words rush out anyway. “You can’t be perfect all the time, Van. You’re going to mess up eventually. And you know what happens then? No one’s going to want you around.”
His gaze softens as he closes the distance between us. Adrenaline surges through my body, sending a tingling rush pricking my exposed skin. I should’ve shifted back into stony silence and not given this man an inch, but something about Van makes the truth fall out of my usually clamped mouth. And because of that, he’s learned more about me in two non-consecutive days than anyone on this island has learned in five years.
“I’d ask who hurt you, but I’m guessing from what your mom said, it was your dad.” Van tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry. I know from experience how much that stings.”
His touch is so lovely that moisture gathers at the bridge of my nose. I’m instantly angry at myself for reacting this way when I should be shoving him away.
“She’s not my mom.” I spit the words like a petulant child, not like the composed thirty-year-old I am.
Joanna is Noah’s mom, though he and I share a father—something we hadn’t known until five years ago.
I wait for surprise to resonate over Van’s mystifying gray eyes, but he softly nods his head. “Yes, she is, darlin’. Someone who cares about you like that is family. Maybe not by blood but family nonetheless.”
It’s all I can do to lift my chin and keep my breathing even, to not spill the stupid tears threatening to make a fool out of me. The corner of Van’s mouth lifts slightly, the soft affection in his gaze making everything harder.
