Page 81 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
I shout into the mic, “That’s for you, Van!”
The response is earsplitting, forcing me to press one palm to the side of my head. But the ruckus makes me grin like a lunaticas the crowd pushes Van toward the stage. After handing Izzy the mic, I hop into his outstretched arms.
My whispered, ‘Hi,’ is swallowed by the crowd, but Van’s responding grin is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’re incredible,” he breathes before he kisses me so hard I forget my own name.
The audience loses it again.
Van tucks me under his arm and steers us away toward the water’s edge where we can talk as Lost Shakers moves on to “Margaritaville.”
“That was— I can’t— I’d seen videos, but—”
I silence his incoherent stammering with another kiss.
“I take it you liked the song,” I say, a smirk settling over my lips.
Van shakes his head, his smile megawatt. “Like is too small a word.”
Part of me wants to keep playing coy, but now I want Van to understand what that display of confetti and sequins was all about. I grab his hand, pulling us along the edge of the grassy area until we’re at the end of the property. Even back here, with people playing lawn games, it’s too crowded. The wave of shyness engulfing me is unexpected. I mean, I just strutted beneath stage lights while belting at the top of my lungs.
“Let’s head to the beach,” Van says, kissing my knuckles.
We stroll in unhurried silence until the lulling sound of the waves pulls a relieved sigh from my mouth.
“Gen,” Van starts at the same time I say, “I wanted—”
We laugh at ourselves, kicking our shoes off at the end of the walkway before continuing into the cool sand. The beach is empty except for the light of the gibbous moon reflecting off the waves. Somewhere far off, a dog barks once, and then the night is still again, wrapping us in quiet.
“May I?” I ask once we’re halfway to where the waves tumble upon the sand.
Van hums. “A polite request. Am I in trouble?”
“When aren’t you in trouble?”
Another second passes, and I almost want to backtrack and leave this unsaid. But then I mentally remind myself how incredibly strong I am. If this doesn’t go the way I hope it will, I’ll find some way to survive.
Probably.
I stop, pulling Van to face me. When the apple top note of Van’s cologne washes over me, I slide my shoulders back and lift my chin.
“I want you to stay.”
Van doesn’t say anything, just stares.
“Here. With me.”
It’s a near duplicate of when I elbowed him in the solar plexus, except he’s not doubled over, struggling for breath. The ocean breeze pushes a curled strand of hair across my eyes, and I tuck it away, nerves eating at the bottom of my heart.
Why hasn’t he said anything? Why isn’t he beaming or whooping with joy?
“I— I—” I force a swallow down my tight throat and regroup. Might as well get everything out in one fell swoop. I already feel like I’m naked onstage.
“I don’t want to start at square one. I don’t want you to move out and pick me up for dates. I want you to tell me about your day the second you get home. I want you at my classes, infuriatingly good at every exercise. I want to continue doing house projects and taking care of the hens together. I want guitar music during my skincare routine. I want…” I pause, fiddling with my silicone ring.
“I don’t want to take this off. But you should know that I returned Joanna’s ring this morning and told her the truth about us. Maybe someday, when we’re ready, you can ask for it back.”
When Van simply watches me, I squeeze my eyes shut because saying all of this out loud suddenly sounds ridiculous.
