Page 7 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
“The divorce papers.”
A soft, “Ah,”escapes his distractingly full lips. “You already know.”
I say nothing.
“What was the plan? To stay married forever?”
“Since I never planned on getting married, it was a nonissue for me.” I lift my chin. “You’d come with divorce papers in hand whenever you found someone you wanted to be with.”
Van rubs his eyebrow. “I…”
He sets his hands on his hips with an exhale, staring at the scuffed hardwood floor for a few beats. My chest seizes. I want to apologize, to tell him I’m so sorry he’s dealing with this legal snafu on top of everything, to relent—just this once—but habit is a powerful thing, and my self-preservation instincts are even stronger.
“Okay, I’m going to lay it all on the line. I recently—” Van’s hard swallow as he struggles to get the words out feels like a knockout punch. “I recently lost my sister. We were incredibly close and—”
“I know,” I interrupt, my lungs impossibly tight. I don’t mean to cut Van off, but I don’t want him to have to detail something that’s so painful. “I’m sorry.”
“How would you know?”
A flush of embarrassment rushes from my ears to my scalp, but after realizing I accidentally married a stranger, my actions weren’t only practical, they were necessary. If my past has taught me one thing, it’s never to trust a man’s word.
“I had my PI do a full profile on you once I saw the public record.”
Van blinks, his mouth half open. I know from experience he’s not easily stunned. Van rolled with every curveball I threw him in Vegas, that irresistible smile never wavering.
“My PIimplies you have a private investigator on retainer.”
“I do.”
He nods to himself, muttering, “This is going to be harder than I thought.”
My thoughts fire off automatically.
I tried to warn you. You don’t want any part of this. It’s too much trouble.
I’mtoo much trouble.
“Let me tell you how this went from my perspective. I went to Vegas to see my sister’s favorite singer because we plannedthat trip together, and if it’d been reversed, Taylor would have gone in my memory. Afterward, I ended up on an unexpected adventure with the most intriguing woman. It resulted in us gettingfake marriedand then amicably parting ways.”
Van’s gaze is steady on mine, and I struggle not to fidget.
“Then a week ago, I was in the shower, and a wild thought occurred to me. One quick search of the public record and, yep, I’m hitched. Then it was a mad rush of coordinating a leave of absence from my job and finalizing plans to drive to Wilks Beach to tell you in person because that seemed like the decent thing to do.”
My shoulders inch upward, my skin growing hot.
“Because though it’s obvious that none of this matters to you,” he says, his cheekbones flushing, “I actually care about the sanctity of marriage. I promised my sister that if I ever got married, I’d do the hard work and stick it out. I wouldn’t pull a disappearing act like my father did when my mom was pregnant with me, forcing my sister to raise me since Mama had to work three jobs to support us. And since I’ve never, not once in my life, gone back on a promise to Taylor, I sure as heck don’t plan to now.”
His chest heaves, and all my muscles twitch in response. I want to pull him into my arms more than I want to maintain my permanent distance, but for the first time since we’ve met, Van is irritated with me. The best thing now would be to lean into that, to push him away just like I’ve done with everyone else.
“How long would you need to stay married to keep your promise?” I can tell I’ve stunned him again, and honestly, I didn’t see myself asking that question. “Under different circumstances, I’m sure you’d agree that it doesn’t make sense for our futures to be entwined from a technicality we had no knowledge of. But to keep your word to your sister, to say you tried, how long would you need to stay?”
Van’s investigative report came back squeaky clean. Twenty-seven. Decent credit score. Brilliant student—graduating from college and medical school early. Emergency physician with outstanding patient satisfaction scores. Communally liked. Very close to his mother and late sister. Volunteers in his nonexistent spare time. No criminal record—not even a speeding ticket. If I was forced to be legally bound to someone for a short period of time, Van seems like the best option.
A few seconds pass as Van surveys me, and my core tightens out of habit.
“One year.”
A choking sound escapes me.
