Page 23 of Marriage is a Shore Thing (Wilks Beach #2)

twenty-two

Geneva

Istare at Van’s phone as I sit on the couch, willing it to…

I don’t know, magically tell me where he is.

Knowing Van, he probably was chatting with someone and was invited inside for lemonade and cookies—or something equally wholesome.

Which…fine. It’s good that he’s not just sitting around waiting for me to get back from my last-minute meeting with Sean, my private investigator.

I neglected to tell Van about the meeting because I didn’t want to get his hopes up about this heist idea if it wasn’t plausible.

Also, I wanted to digest the information in the file by myself first. Alone.

Not surprisingly, my father is back to his old ways, currently dating three women—all of which are completely in the dark.

I’d nearly caused permanent creases in the paperwork because my hands wanted to fist the words.

Something positive that came from reading about his philandering ways was that Henry keeps a predictable schedule, making finding blocks of time when he won’t be at home easy.

Now we just need to overlap one of those times with when Stacy would be using her personalized security code to enter the house to clean.

Unfortunately, Henry tends to work from home on the day she usually comes over, so we’ll have to find a plausible excuse for her to come over one evening instead.

I’ll need to touch base with Joanna to see if she’s discovered any information from Stacy about the whereabouts of the ring.

The plan had been to share the report with Van before I needed to leave for the movie night with Vivian and Brynn. I’d wanted to see his face light up at me humoring his very-much-illegal idea.

And a part of me also wanted…

I run my hand over the bodice of the burgundy sundress I’d seen in a boutique window while I’d been on the mainland.

I’d told myself the only reason I bought it was because it fit like a glove, but now I realize I wanted to see Van’s reaction to this as well.

I wanted his dimpled smile and his gray eyes twinkling at me for wearing something other than black.

And I wanted to see him…just because. After weeks of seeing Van every day, it felt like I was missing an essential part of myself today.

“Foolish,” I whisper, squeezing my lashes closed. “You’re being so foolish.”

Dropping the report on the coffee table, I shoot to my feet.

My fingers tug down the dress’s side zipper as I stomp upstairs.

After stuffing the dress in the corner of my closet, I slip into one of my standbys and tell myself the fabric doesn’t feel itchy.

I tug at the snug hem, draw in a large breath, and force my shoulders back.

I don’t even remember the walk to Vivian and Brynn’s, only that once I’ve entered the upstairs apartment after letting myself in like Vivian’s text requested, I’m not met with the setup for a chill movie night.

Raven Sacaria music blasts while beauty products and styling wands overload their kitchen table.

Vivian wears the same midnight-blue sequin dress she wore in Vegas, but Brynn is standing in high-waisted, bow-belted black shorts and a shiny gold halter top.

It’s Brynn’s outfit that makes my eyebrows quirk.

Even for the two nights we spent in Vegas, she wore a slightly dressed-up version of athletic clothes.

My gaze flows to the floor, finding trendy black sneakers with gold accents on her feet.

“We’re going out!” Vivian shouts, bouncing a little as she dusts body glitter over her sister’s exposed shoulders. “See, I told you we didn’t need to text her about the last-minute change in plans. Geneva always dresses nice.” She holds the brush up to me. “Glitter?”

The corner of my mouth twitches. “No, thanks. And who’s to say I wouldn’t have come over in workout clothes?”

“But you didn’t.” Vivian winks at me, moving toward the Jack-and-Jill bathroom to wash her hands.

“You okay?” I murmur, noting Brynn’s rigid posture. At first, I thought it was so Vivian could apply the light dusting without getting it on Brynn’s clothes, but now I wonder if she’s even breathing.

Brynn gives a curt nod and then keeps nodding.

“Yes. I am. I will be.” A deep breath flows in and out of her lungs.

“This was my idea. I’m trying to be more flexible.

..more spontaneous. It’s just that…now that we’re about to—” She cuts off her sentence with a rough head shake.

“It’ll be fine that we’re going dancing instead of watching movies. Nothing is going to happen.”

The last few words are gritted through tight teeth.

I rest a hand on her forearm. “I’ll watch out for us tonight.”

“It’s not—” She sighs, glancing at the ceiling before fidgeting with the hem of her top. “I worry about large things going wrong. Like, because we’re not here, the roof will collapse, or a pipe will burst and flood the whole place.”

My brow furrows, vaguely remembering Brynn saying something like this before. That her keeping to routines is a superstition she’s held tighter than a lucky rabbit’s foot.

“Nothing is going to happen,” I say, giving her forearm a squeeze.

Brynn meets my gaze, taking another deliberate breath before nodding. Then her eyes widen as if she’s just remembered something. She leans past me to see that Vivian is in the closed bathroom. “You never did tell me what’s going on between you and Van.”

“Not really much to say,” I hedge.

I’d been evasive when Noah asked me earlier this week as well.

My week with Van looked very similar to when we were quarantined…

but with kissing. I’ve spent a good part of this week actively trying not to think about what that means.

Are we automatically in a relationship now?

I hope not. There’s only so much of my prickly personality Van will tolerate before he comes to his senses.

If we were in a real relationship and he decided I wasn’t enough…

I rub a knuckle between my brows to dissipate the painful thought.

Maybe we’re just roommates who kiss?

And roommates who also happen to be legally married.

That’s got to be a thing, right? People have all sorts of weird situationships nowadays. There’s probably even an acronym for what we’re doing. I’m just not aware of it.

Brynn looks like she’s about to ask a follow-up question, but the bathroom door opens.

“Who wants rosé?” Vivan asks. “Finn found us an evening coordinator”—she gives finger quotes with a slight eye roll—“like he did in Vegas. Gabriel will drive us and take care of everything since Finn is out of town visiting his sister.”

And Gabriel will watch over Vivian—and the rest of us—like a hawk all night.

For this town’s initial misgivings about Finn, he definitely takes care of those he loves.

And honestly, it’s nice not having to worry about whether my drink has been messed with or have to shut down pickup attempts.

In Vegas, Mateo kept the creepers away so we could enjoy the night life in its purest iteration, all-girl dance circles and telling other women how pretty they look in crowded bathrooms.

“That might be a good idea,” Brynn says, pulling a pink bottle out the fridge.

Vivian hops up on the counter, flashing us the bike shorts under her dress before leaning left to pluck three wine glasses from an open shelf.

“I thought Summer and Cade were also coming.”

“Cade has a family thing tonight.” Vivian pours one very full glass and extends it to me. “And Summer is meeting us there after her dinner plans with her friend, Kayla.”

I take a sip of the crisp wine. Hints of strawberries and citrus burst on my tongue.

With Gabriel managing everything, I won’t have to stay as razor-focused as I usually do.

Normally, I’d also be concerned about my female ‘friends’ waiting for me to slip up and take advantage.

Grab some unflattering pictures. Wrangle sordid details out of me.

Basically, get dirt that they could use to get ahead.

But Brynn and Vivian aren’t trying to compete with me.

I don’t fully understand it, but they seem to enjoy my company.

I swish a larger sip of wine around my tongue before slowly swallowing it.

Brynn is trying something that’s clearly out of her comfort zone tonight.

Over the summer, I watched Vivian grow from the town’s most shy member to someone who’s confidently herself.

Maybe I can take my own step and let my guard down around these two.

Just a little.

Maybe.

My ears ring, and I can barely feel my toes, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

I had no idea how much I needed a night like this.

Vivian is unapologetically doing the sprinkler while Brynn nails the running man.

Summer plugs her nose and mimics sinking underwater, and I try not to laugh.

Six other women round out our circle in the middle of the packed dance floor as lights flash and the thick bassline rivals the beating of our own hearts.

Gabriel isn’t far off, purses hanging from his thick forearms. He’s a nice guy—married, three cute kids, former Navy Seal, and current “evening coordinator.” Though, I’m sure if I looked him up, his official title would be something in the vein of personal security.

None of us have touched our purses since we’ve arrived, because in true billionaire fashion, Finn has taken care of everything.

A woman I don’t know enters the middle of the open circle, throwing a pretend fishing reel toward me.

I wave her off, but she’s persistent, miming like I’m a stubborn swordfish caught on her line.

Vivian’s fingers playfully push my back.

Normally, this would cause me to freeze up, but her giggled encouragement reminds me she doesn’t mean any harm.

It’s been a slow progression of moments like this all night. Me voicing my opinion in the car on the way here instead of staying silent. Me not holding back when I want to smile or chuckle. Me engaging Summer in conversation when she joined us instead of remaining detached.

The chorus of wooos that go up from our little crowd as I relent would rival any sports bar during the Super Bowl.

The woman bows out, giving me the center spot.

I’m not unaccustomed to being in the spotlight, and I can execute choreography with the best of them, but that’s not what this is about.

This night is about freedom and silliness and having a little fun with friends.

It’s about finally letting go.

For once, I don’t overthink it. I bend at the waist, make my elbows into perfect ninety-degree angles, and robot like my life depends on it.

Because I think on some level, it might.

We dance for hours. Brynn’s espresso martinis help her keep up with her night-owl sister, but as we round 1 a.m., even I’m beginning to lose luster.

Summer has already slipped away, needing to drive her car back to Wilks Beach.

I’m just about to rein Vivian in when a Raven Sacaria song comes on.

Since there’ll be no leaving until the songstress finishes her power ballad, I find a spot next to Gabriel as Vivian tugs her sister back to the dance floor.

“After this song, I think we should head out,” I tell him.

He nods, keeping his gaze on both women. “Sounds good.”

When Vivian almost lurches to the side after trying to complete a spin, I wince. “You’ve got water bottles in your car, right?”

Gabriel chuckles. “Yes, I do.”

I smile at the twin sisters laughing, arms looped around each other. Then I put all my weight on my right leg to ease my aching feet, and my heel snaps. My ankle screams with pain a second before Gabriel’s arm snakes around my waist, keeping me from tumbling over.

“You okay?” His eyes do a quick, efficient assessment.

“Yeah,” I manage through a pained grunt. “My heel broke.”

I lift the offending shoe a few inches from the ground, grimacing as I try to rotate my ankle. Gabriel’s gaze tracks to my foot, the action bringing our faces closer. He’s about to say something, but an angry voice interrupts.

“Hey, buddy. How about you take your hands off my wife before I end you?”