Page 37 of Marriage is a Shore Thing (Wilks Beach #2)
Van
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 hitch last 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.
“Again. Marry me again—in front of Mama and Mark, in front of Joanna and Noah, in front of all our friends, our town. Marry me again, Gen. Tonight.”
Her eyes grow wide as I take her mug and set it aside, the slightest flicker of vulnerability slipping over her brown irises.
With my body separating her from my parents, it’s like we’re the only two people in our kitchen.
Beyond the window, the hens cluck softly.
Morning light bends around the flyaways that’ve escaped Geneva’s curler, highlighting them.
She’s so beautiful like this—raw and unguarded—my chest aches.
“You already know I’m here to stay. Let’s make it official.”
I’ve never felt so sure about anything in my life, but it’s impossible to control my racing pulse as I wait for her answer.
When the corner of Geneva’s mouth slips up, it punches the breath from me. “Only if Elvis presides over the ceremony.”
I whoop, picking Geneva up and swinging her around the kitchen. “We’re getting hitched!”
After putting on my one and only suit to formally ask Joanna for her family’s ring, planning exploded.
Joanna activated the Wilks Beach emergency text chain, rallying everyone to help set up an impromptu wedding ceremony at Bayside Table.
Geneva and Brynn sped to the mainland to buy a ring for me while Vivian whipped up a last-minute cocktail-length wedding dress from some vintage-inspired lace she’d been saving for a special occasion.
Then as the sun set last night, the Lost Shakers performed Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” as Geneva walked down the aisle. The misty-eyed look of adoration Geneva gave me while being escorted by Noah quickly became one of my top five memories.
My wife pushes her hair back now, her heirloom ring glinting in the light from the vanity. I glance down at the beveled edge, matte brushed gold ring on my hand with a smile.
“No. Put those away. I’m too queasy, and it’s too early for dimples.”
Her grouchy tone has the opposite effect on my grin.
“I can’t help it,” I tell her, pointing to my face. “This is what a ludicrously happy man who’s deeply in love with his wife looks like.”
I catch the exact moment her lips lift before she presses them into a line, glaring at me for extra emphasis. I’m about to poke at my adorable storm cloud when her eyes fly wide, and she lurches for the toilet again.
Several minutes later, Geneva is sprawled out on the couch with a plate of dry toast.
“Why,” she wines. “It’s our honeymoon.”
Yesterday afternoon, Mama and Mark moved their things to Joanna’s for the remainder of their visit so we could have some privacy.
“Second honeymoon,” I remind her, setting a mug of ginger tea on the coffee table.
She flits a hand in my direction, annoyed.
I ease onto the couch, careful not to jostle her. “Let’s catch up on Celebrity Circuit until you feel better.”
“Okay.” She rubs at the front of her shoulder joint, groaning. “I’m so sore. I didn’t think I worked chest that hard this week. Maybe I pulled something.”
“I’m sorry, love,” I say, pulling her feet into my lap because I’m incapable of not touching her.
I still like to use darlin’, but being able to identify Geneva as my love is something I use often—that, along with wife, wifey, and occasionally, wifemperess supreme.
Geneva murmurs a grateful thank you as I queue up our favorite show.
We’re three-fourths through the show’s intro, highlighting all the stories they’ll cover in the episode.
When they focus on surprise baby news, realization crashes over me.
There’s a chance that Geneva’s nausea and chest soreness isn’t due to tainted food and excessive exercise.
Though we’ve talked about having kids, it was always in a future sense—just like we’d eventually get official wedding rings.
Since we checked off that second one yesterday, maybe…
I pause the show, finding my wife already looking at me, her face pale.
“Are you going to be sick again?”
Geneva shakes her head, her collarbones rising and falling erratically as her inhales get shorter and shorter.
“I can’t— We can’t— I mean, I’d like to be someday, but what if—” She bites her lip. “What if I’m not any good at this?”
“Geneva.” I gather her to my chest. “There’s nothing you can’t do.
You are the strongest”—I kiss her temple—“most caring”—my lips brush her brow—“incredible woman I’ve ever met.
And that’s saying a lot, since I had the privilege of being raised by Mama and Taylor.
” I give her a gentle squeeze. “You can do this. We can do this. Together.”
Her eyes are still a bit panicked as they dart all over my face. “I don’t know.”
“I do.” My lips find hers in a soft kiss.
When I pull away, her chin dips in a firm nod, her shoulders straightening. It’s a version of Geneva I know well—one ready to take on anything.
“Okay.”
“Once I get a pregnancy test at Dotty’s Market, it’ll be all over town. Carol will probably be banging on our door before the two minutes to get the results are up,” I tell her.
“That’s what the Go Away doormat is for.” She spreads her palm over her flat belly, her gaze softening. “If this isn’t food poisoning, then Joanna can parade around town, telling everyone.”
“And if the proud papa wants to shout it from the rooftops?”
The affectionate look in my wife’s eyes is nothing short of breathtaking.
It feels like all those times before, when energy rockets through my internal organs, fundamentally changing me for the better.
The air around us charges, and I half expect fireflies to appear, though it’s early morning, and we’re in our cozy living room.
Her mouth quirks in that little smirk I love. “I’d expect nothing less.”
The moment sits between us, thrumming as if it has its own heartbeat, before Geneva takes my fingers and places them beneath hers on her belly.
“We might be parents,” she whispers.
“We might,” I whisper back, my mind reeling at the thought that my once-accidental wife might be accidentally pregnant.
Her face contorts suddenly, her brow wrinkling. “But what if we’re not?”
Starlight feels like it’s bursting beneath my skin. “That’s the best part.” I kiss my wife, astonished that this is my life, my reality. “We have the rest of our lives together. There’s more than enough time for everything we’ve ever dreamed of.”
“And for some things we never thought were possible?” she asks, her gaze both tender and uncertain.
My forehead rests on hers. “Especially those.”
“Okay.” Geneva takes a deep breath as she leans back.
“So we’re doing this thing?” I ask, unable to keep my smile restrained.
She nods, her own grin magnetic. “We are.”
A holler that would make my sister proud bursts from my mouth. I bolt to the front door before nearly pulling the thing off its hinges.
“Evander, what are you doing?” Geneva laughs, the sound fueling my soul. “You’re shirtless in scrub pants. You’re not even wearing shoes.”
I wink. “Got to give the town something to talk about, darlin’.”
Then I run from my house toward the tiny market at the edge of town and, hopefully, the continuation of everything I’ve ever wanted.
Want a little more happily ever after? This heartwarming bonus scene gives you a peek at Geneva and Van’s forever—and is sure to have you smiling long after the last page. CLICK HERE to see what’s next for their love story!
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