Page 55 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
Gabriel chuckles. “Yes, I do.”
I smile at the twin sisters laughing, arms looped around each other. Then I put all my weight on my right leg to ease my aching feet, and my heel snaps. My ankle screams with pain a second before Gabriel’s arm snakes around my waist, keeping me from tumbling over.
“You okay?” His eyes do a quick, efficient assessment.
“Yeah,” I manage through a pained grunt. “My heel broke.”
I lift the offending shoe a few inches from the ground, grimacing as I try to rotate my ankle. Gabriel’s gaze tracks to my foot, the action bringing our faces closer. He’s about to say something, but an angry voice interrupts.
“Hey, buddy. How about you take your hands off my wife before I end you?”
twenty-three
Van
Hey, look at that. Turns outI ama fighter, because I’m going to bludgeon this man for having his arm around Geneva’s waist, his face entirely too close to hers. It doesn’t matter that he looks more like the incredible Hulk than a human. This man might have the bulk, but I have years of medical knowledge, detailing the most unexpected pain points in the human body.
“You know this guy?” the man asks Geneva, his lips dipping dangerously close to her ear.
Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Her gaze darts wildly, flitting from my eyes to my mussed hair before stalling on my collarbones. In my haste to get to her, I hadn’t thought to change, so I’m wearing my threadbare shirt, my lounging scrub pants, and sneakers.
When the man’s arm tightens protectively around Geneva’s waist, blinding white fire sears through my brain.
“Gen, step back.”
My words are a warning as my hands fist of their own accord. Some higher-processing part of my brain is calculating how to get Geneva away from this behemoth, but a baser part of me is looking forward to doing enough damage to send this man to the local ER.
“She can’t.” The man has the decency to straighten.
I should feel better now that their faces aren’t inches apart, but fury still courses through my veins. I’ve never been this angry in my life. Burning energy fizzes and cracks through my bones, consuming me.
A harsh, hollow laugh escapes me. “I know my wife. There’s nothing she can’t do.”
“It’s my ankle,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically breathy.
Since I’m locked in a staring contest with the man who’sstill touchingmy wife, I don’t look down immediately. But when I do, I feel like the biggest jerk of all time. Geneva is balancing on one precarious heel, the other one clearly broken. I surge forward, and the man unravels himself, stepping away.
“Sorry, man,” I say, sliding my hands over Geneva’s waist to keep her steady. “I got the wrong idea.”
A half smile tilts his lips. “I get it. I’m protective of mine too.” He wiggles his wedding ring at me, making me feel like even more of a scumbag. “Ma’am, I’ll collect your friends. Will your husband be taking you home?”
I lean back to catch Geneva’s gaze, but she’s not looking at me. She’s staring off into the dance club, jaw rigid. “Yes.”
Vivian comes over, happy to see me and clearly tipsy, but Brynn gives me a strange look as we all say our goodbyes.
“Why are you here?” Geneva asks once we’re alone again.
She’s Geneva from months ago—with her icy tone and steely posture. A part of me breaks apart hearing her question, but shehasn’t asked me to let go, hasn’t asked me to leave. Of course, that could be because she’s currently one-footed.
I thought about the answer to this inevitable question the entire hour-long drive here. I knew she’d ask. I knew that I could very well muck everything up by telling the truth. But even though the darkness of this club might mask my blush, I don’t want to hide this.
“I missed you.”
Her expression shutters, and Geneva finally makes eye contact with me.
“And I got worried when you weren’t home by midnight, so I walked over to Vivian and Brynn’s, thinking I’d offer to walk you home. And when no one came to the door and you didn’t answer your phone, I called Finn. He told me you all were here, and I just got in my truck. I know,” I say as her mouth opens like she wants to argue with me. “Iknowhow that sounds. It sounds possessive and crazy and a bunch of other negative adjectives I can’t think of right now. It’s just…”
I brush away a strand that’s loosened itself from her ponytail, my gaze following the trail of goosebumps that erupt as I tuck it behind her ear.
