Page 35 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
A smirk settles over my mouth as she ends the call. “You think I’m handsome.”
“I had to sell it, or she’d come over and get herself sick. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be wearing a mask or something?”
My hand splays over my chest. “Does this mean you care?”
“Never mind.” She taps on her phone. “I need to call Brynn and let her know to watch out for symptoms.”
A few minutes later, her head drops back on the pillows after she hangs up. “Vivian will be over with a tater tot-based casserole in an hour and a half.”
“Sounds scrumptious.” A wide grin splits my face.
Geneva scrubs her hands over her cheeks with a groan. “Why will no one listen to me?”
“Probably because you’re an unreasonable grump.” I settle my hands behind my head, smirking. “If you’d allow people to be nice to you, this would all be easier.”
“But I don’t pay into the system.” She’s strangling her phone again. “I don’t make meals, because no one wants to eat dressing-free spinach salads, plain Greek yogurt, and grilled fish fillets. Heck, I don’t want to eat it half of the time.”
It’s hard to miss Geneva’s regimented diet. When I sauteed veggies in butter, she pushed them away like I’d dunked them in battery acid. I’m all for healthy eating, but there should be enjoyment too—at least occasionally.
“While I’m here, I’ll teach you to make a few sharable staples—lasagna, veggie chili, shepherd’s pie. Then you won’t feel bad when you occasionally need to lean on your neighbors.”
With a sigh, Geneva flops her hands wide on the mattress, pushing her phone away before closing her eyes. Long minutes pass as her breathing evens out. I pick up her phone, click it to silent, and set it back on the bedside table.
I try not to stare. I really do, but I have a former beauty queen resting before me. The slivers of evening light slip between the inefficient blinds, highlighting her cheekbones, her dark hair, her soft brows. I reposition the chair as quietly as I can until my shoulders are blocking the light. Geneva turns toward me then, stacking her hands beneath her cheek like a cherub.
She’s sleeping so serenely that it makes sudden, unexpected fury sprint through my body. Geneva should get to be this relaxed all the time. I want to find her father, her mother, anyone who harmed her, anyone who made Geneva feel like she needs to guard this fiercely against the world and…and what?
Challenge them to a duel? Knock out their front teeth?
I’m not a fighter. I’ve never hit another person in my life, except for the one time I lashed out at Taylor when I was five, and Mama made me kneel on grits. I’m more comfortable either preventing the fight or doing the repair job afterward. Putting bones back together and stitching up wounds makes sense to me. Destruction doesn’t.
The light fades while Geneva dozes, and plans run through my mind. I might have only a few short months with Geneva, and it’s highly likely that she’ll never like me the way I already like her, but if I can leave Geneva’s life better than I found it, I’d be happy.
“I’m going to help you like pink again.”
It’s a nearly inaudible murmur but it’s also a promise.
fourteen
Geneva
Iwake at different intervals throughout the night. Two times, it’s from Van taking my temperature and giving me more medicine. Another time, I nearly trip over his long, extended legs on the way to the bathroom since he insists on sleeping in that impossibly small kitchen chair. A third time, I discover that Van snores—just slightly. It should be annoying, but the soft sound reminds me of the ocean waves beyond my window.
When I finally rise for the day, it’s after ten, and the chair is empty. The drop of disappointment in my stomach nearly makes me want to punch myself there. I shouldn’twantto see his dimpled grin first thing.
Rising in slow degrees, I take my time drinking the cold glass of water at my bedside table before padding into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Van peeks into the bathroom as I’m spitting out toothpaste, startling me and sending the foam flying, dotting the mirror.
“Oops.” Van laughs, using the hand towel to clean the glass.
“Stop. That’s covered in germs.” I yank the towel from him. “You shouldn’t even be near me. You’re going to get sick.”
His shoulder rests against the door jamb, making my small bathroom feel even smaller. “I don’t think you understand how irresistible you are. It’s physically impossible for me not to want to be around you.”
Now that I’m receiving his dimpled smile, I decide I don’t want it anymore.
