Page 85 of Marriage is a Shore Thing
As much as I’d like to tell my wife everything, I’m wrung out from speaking to Taylor. Besides, I know that Geneva will be there for me tomorrow, the next day, two weeks from now…forever. Warmth seeps into my chest despite the cool wind now ruffling our hair.
“Bye.”
I draw my attention away from Geneva to nod at the sky. Though the idea of talking to my late sister had been terrifying initially, hearing the whispers of her laughter on the breeze has been unexpectedly comforting. The knowledge that I can come here and be connected to her again feels like being wrapped in a blanket straight from the dryer, which is something that Taylor used to do for me in the winters when our apartment never quite got warm enough.
A soft grin lifts my lips before I glance down at Geneva. “Can we talk about it later?”
My wife nods, never taking her focused attention off me. Her fingertips gently trace the dried tears on my cheeks. “Promise?”
I chuckle. “When have I been known to hold my tongue?”
Geneva’s devious little smirk makes my day. “I swear you could talk the paint off the walls.”
My beaming smile is reflexive. I’ll never get tired of this back and forth with her.
“That so?” I murmur, leaning in until our noses brush.
The halting inhale that slips between my wife’s lips makes victory surge through my bloodstream.
“Besides providing you with endless conversation, I can think of something else this tongue is good for.”
Her eyes flash with heat, but she tilts her chin defiantly. “There you go, being all cocky aga—”
“Confident,” I correct, smiling against her lips.
Then my fingers thread through Geneva’s loose hair as I decimate those final inches, kissing my wife on the beach of my new home.
Van
Epilogue
2 years later
Geneva flings back the gray-and-pink boxing-themed quilt Judith Abernathy gifted us years ago and sprints toward the bathroom. I jump up, arriving just in time to gather her long hair as she loses what’s left of our wedding dinner into the toilet.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, rubbing light, soothing circles on her back until her stomach settles.
“It must have been the scallops.” Geneva leans back against the bathtub with a controlled breath. “Clara said they weren’t from her usual supplier.”
“Maybe.” I extend a glass of cool water before sitting beside her on the tile floor.
Other than potentially contaminated seafood, our vow-renewal/official wedding ceremony had gone off without a hitchlast night. In typical fashion for our relationship, it happened last minute with minimal planning.
Yesterday morning, Geneva stumbled downstairs after we’d all had breakfast. Her hair had been in her heatless curl roller with pillow marks on her face as she beelined straight for the coffee pot. Mama and Mark had been visiting for the weekend, using our guest room like they usually do. Though with Mark retiring and the two of them moving to Wilks Beach next summer, we won’t get as much use out of it anymore.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Mark says through a growing grin. “Nice of you to join us.”
Geneva makes a semi-human grunt as she pours herself an overly full mug. According to my wife, Mark—like Mama and me—is ‘an insufferable morning person.’
I box her against the counter, placing a soft kiss on her crown. When her disgruntled frown instantly melts into a soft sigh, my heart beats outside my body. I trace the curve of her jaw with my thumb, my breath catching when her gaze meets mine.
“Marry me.”
The words escape as if spoken by my soul—breathy and honest.
Geneva’s wry smile only makes me love her more.
“We’re already married.” She taps her silicone ring against her mug before sneaking another sip.
