Page 53 of Possession

We left the church as fast as we arrived. Boz put me into his big SUV and headed west. He went through a drive through and ordered so many tacos, I wondered if we were going to an after-funeral party. Then he stopped at a gas station and told me to “not get out of the fucking car under any circumstance”.

He was back in a flash with a six pack of beer.

That’s when he drove straight to the shore. He ripped his jacket and tie off and tossed them in the back seat.

That was over an hour ago. Maybe more. I’ve lost track of time. We’re sitting hip to hip on a bench at the edge of the sand. We’re on our second beer, and I lost count how many tacos Boz inhaled.

I dig my toes into the sand and let the sun heal my frazzled nerves.

“How old are you?” I ask.

There’s a pause, and I realize he’s not going to answer me.

I turn and squint into the sun as I look up at him. “We’re married. I think I should get to know how old my husband is.”

The only reason I know he throws me a glance is from the turn of his head. His beautiful dark eyes are hidden behind his wayfarers. “Twenty-nine.”

“Huh.”

“Huhwhat?”

I look back at him and shrug. “Nothing. Justhuh. I thought you were older.”

He puts his beer to his lips as he mutters, “I’ve aged beyond my years. Good to know.”

“You seem older,” I amend. “You’ve got that wholefuck with me and I’ll kill you vibethat doesn’t scream twenty-nine.”

“Yeah? How old does my vibe make me?”

I take a sip of my beer and study him from the side. His short-clipped beard frames his strong, square jaw. The longer I’m around him, the less he scares me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s scary. But as the days pass, he’s scary in a way that makes me feel safe.

And I never thought I’d feel safe in this world.

He finally turns to me again when I don’t say anything. He hikes a brow, demanding an answer.

“I’m not sure your vibe has to do with age. It’s about experiences. Most twenty-nine-year-olds these days are barely figuring out life. You’ve been elevated to run the Marino business, and you’re not even one of them. That takes a certain level of…”

“Of what?” he presses.

I’m not about to talk about the big dick energy that rivals the Almighty. I'm also not going to call him cocky to his face. I’m exhausted. Funerals and silent treatments can really take it out of you.

I settle on something more positive. "Confidence.”

He turns back to the ocean. “I guess that’s better than looking ten years older than I am.”

I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips for the first time today. “My husband has a touch of vanity in him. I never would have guessed, Boz.”

He sighs, and I feel like we’re finally having a real conversation. “I feel like I’ve aged decades, chica.”

I swing my foot and nudge his calf. “That’s what happens when you work every waking minute of the day.”

“I have a lot of shit to do. I don’t have the luxury of down time.”

“Trust me, I know. Technically, we’re in what most marriages consider the honeymoon phase. But for us it’s been a lot of death, threats of death, the weirdest dinner meetings I’ve ever experienced, and a funeral. You’ve been a barrel of fun, hubbalicious.” I look back to the shore and sigh. “Until now. Thank you for this. Thank you for not taking me right back to the house.”

“Thought you could use a break.”

“How long have you worked for the Marinos?”

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