Page 79 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
“I know. I do too.”
The sea air tosses my still-damp hair, drying the tear slipping down my cheek. Mama and I are quiet for a long time, letting our sorrow and grief sit between us.
“We should talk about her more,” Mama says.
The corner of my mouth twitches. “We should.”
“Remember when she convinced you lemon juice was invisible ink?”
The memory surges forward. “I spent an hour scribbling secret messages all over the kitchen walls.”
“And you heated one up with the hairdryer just as I was walking through the door after work…”
“…and nearly set the wall on fire. That was a mess,” I groan, sitting up straight.
Mama laughs, the rich sound of it warming me from the inside. “You two. Always with some caper. I went to take a shower as you scrubbed the wall but ended up listening to both of you having a giggle fit instead.”
“You did?” I didn’t remember that.
“Uh-huh,” she hums. “I loved how much you loved each other.”
My heart contorts, but it’s going to hurt anyway. At least this way, with Mama and me talking, we can get through this together.
A single memory burns bright in my mind, pulling my cheeks into a mischievous smile. This story Mama loves to tell. Anticipating my mom’s laughter, I relax in the warm afternoon sunshine.
“What about the time fireworks went off in the pantry?”
thirty-four
Geneva
I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind, but it’s far too late to change the plans now—especially since the Wilks Beach emergency text chain was accidentally activated. Izzy, the events coordinator of Bayside Table, hands me another black balloon for the arch going over the stage, and I tack it in place from my position on a step ladder. Locals from the Wilks Beach Garden Society are creating table arrangements like their life depends on it while tonight’s band rehearses the song I’m going to sing later.
Yup. I’ve gone insane.
But maybe in a good way?
While teaching my second class earlier today, I went full tilt just to keep everyone from thinking I’ve gone completely soft, but the whole time, I’d thought about what Cade had said. Her offhanded comment about her and her boyfriend makingsacrifices for each other out of love made me realize that I want to do something to show Van how I feel.
I’ve seen grand gestures in movies—running through airports, unexpected flash mobs, lifted boomboxes. And though no one in this town has seen me do anything other than snarl while wearing dreary colors, I’ve spent more of my life onstage, singing, dancing, smiling until my face hurts, than I’ve spent inhabiting this grumpy persona. That’s not a world I want to step back into, but I’m tapping into those skills tonight.
After class, I texted Izzy to ask if I could join the local band playing at Bayside Table for one song as a fun surprise for Van. When I called Noah to gather a few people and keep Van busy in the condo tower’s game room with a couple rounds of pool so I could prepare, Cade found out and used the text chain to invite the whole town.
And it snowballed—or rather ballooned—from there.
Vivian called me, breathless, because she’d been working on an ombre sequin dress that could be perfect, except for one problem: it was black flowing into pink. I smiled to myself and said I’d be right over for a quick sizing.
Right now, Cade’s mom, Camille, is sprawled in the grass, hand-painting a blackGeneva and Vanbanner to accompany the balloon arch. I figuredSurprise! Your Wife Loves You!might be a little confusing when the town thinks our marriage is real.
I’ve already overheard several puzzled questions.
“Didn’t they just have a party?”
“It’s a little over the top for a two-month wedding anniversary, don’t you think?”
“I thought all Geneva could do is bark directions. Now she’s singing?”
And honestly, I understand the confusion. At our impromptu newlywed party, I barely spoke. But my pushing-everyone-awaydefense mechanism is starting to fit like a shirt that shrunk in the dryer—and not in a cute crop-top kind of way.
