Page 69 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
“You’re welcome to leave at any time.” She gives him a saccharine smile. “And never come back.”
Noah pushes off the counter, huffing. “And after defending your honor…”
“Honor that is very much intact,” she quips.
“Okay, you two.” I nudge Noah by the shoulders toward the exit. “Disembowel each other later.”
“Looking forward to it,” Geneva calls sweetly as I open the front door.
Noah quickly switches to talking about his favorite subject—baseball—as soon as we break into a warm-up jog. I listen, only knowing the cursory rules, since we never had the money for afterschool activities, and being raised by two music-loving women, I never got into professional sports. You’d be more likely to find me at a Lainey Wilson concert than an MLB game.
As Noah spits out stats like they’re vital signs, I try to follow along, but really my mind can’t stop wondering what Geneva has planned for later.
twenty-nine
Geneva
“You’re sure about this,” Van asks, blinking. He looks about as stunned as when I’d knocked the wind out of him in Vegas.
I roll my eyes, leaning on my crutch though my ankle feels much better than it did yesterday. It might have something to do with the incredible night’s sleep I received being wrapped in Van’s strong arms. Even with the activity of crutch-walking into the store, it doesn’t throb that bad. Outside, I politely—okay, firmly—refused Van’s offer to carry me from the car. Though it’s quickly become my favorite household activity, it felt weird on the mainland.
“Yes.”
“If you really mean it, then I’m going to kiss you in public.”
I tense. Though we’ve let Brynn and Noah know that this—whateverthisis—isn’t fake anymore, we’ve kept all large displays of affection securely tethered to the house.
My chin lifts. “You wouldn’t dare.”
The slow way Van shakes his head as he pushes into my space makes my pulse race. Warmth explodes over my collarbones, in the pit of my stomach, and slips down my legs. He stops with his lips mere inches from mine, his gaze mischievous.
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Evander,” I caution, trying to gain some control when my body is ready to go all limp-noodle on me. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I never liked the way my full name sounded before, but—” He breaks off with a curse, rubbing his mouth with the knuckles. “It’s like a song from your lips.”
A startled exhale escapes me, not knowing how to respond. Ialwayshave a comeback, a quip, but Van has taken my brain, put it in the microwave for 47 seconds, and rendered me useless.
I should hate it.
Idefinitelydon’t.
“Am I kissing you, darlin’?”
My eyes dart to the paint swatch display, the myriad of colors taunting me. This is the reason we’re here after all—to tell him that I changed my mind about the exterior paint color.
“Why do you care so much about this? It’s just paint,” I say, crossing my arms as best I can while using the crutch.
As predicted, Van is delighted by my grumpy question. “You know why.”
IthinkI might know, but I’m not quite ready to admit it to myself. I’m not quite ready fora lotof things—to fully flesh out what’s between Van and me, to own up to the fact that he’s my favorite person to talk to, to acknowledge that just being near him lowers my blood pressure. If I don’t work through thesethoughts, I don’t have to focus on what I’ll do when our agreed-upon time is up.
Denial is a strategy I mastered early. High heels don’t hurt that bad. Shapewear isn’t suffocating. My muscles aren’t exhausted after an hour on the bag. My good friend, denial, has yet to steer me wrong, so I’m betting it won’t this time either.
“A quick peck on the cheek. That’s it.”
When he leans close, his lips over the shell of my ear, liquid fire shoots through my veins. “As always…” My eyelashes flutter when his warm breath skirts over my cheekbone. “I’ll take what I can get.”
