Page 6 of Marriage is a Shore Thing (Wilks Beach #2)

five

Geneva

My fingers splay open to brace my fall. One hand lands on Van’s firm pectoral muscle, and the other rakes down his unnecessarily defined abs.

How does Van even look like this? He’s supposed to be an overworked doctor without a gym membership.

Sean, my private investigator, mentioned that Van ran a few mornings a week, but that doesn’t explain the definition my fingertips are currently experiencing.

“Whoa there.” Van’s arms come around my body, pulling me upward. It’s probably in an attempt to steady me, but the action brings me flush against him.

A shuddered breath fills my lungs when our eyes meet. I feel his responding inhale, how his heart sprints beneath my palm.

“I…um…” Van says, blinking.

Inarticulate isn’t a word I’d use to describe Van. During our time in Vegas, and even earlier this morning, he always had a quick quip for whatever I threw at him.

But I guess I never threw myself at him before.

“Hi?” My voice is too soft, too breathy, and Van’s responsive grin is entirely too sweet.

I get lost in it for a minute—the feel of him, his easy smile, and the crisp apple top note of his cologne. The fact that Van’s expression isn’t one of flirtatious triumph but unguarded sincerity allows my shoulders to settle.

But then…I register that the music has shifted.

The Darkness’s “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” has replaced Metallica, the title lyric screeching through the speakers at an ear-splitting decibel.

I always keep the music loud enough to overpower my thoughts, but now I’d give anything to be able to voice-command my speaker off.

“What are you doing here?”

Van lets go of me easily when I break away to click off the music.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, that smile slipping into flirty territory. “Are you avoiding me, dearest wife?”

Wife singes through my ribs, leaving a pinpoint hole in its wake, but I remain visually nonplussed.

“First of all, I’m not—”

“Technically, you are.” There’s no mistaking it this time. Van’s smile has gone full dimple.

Since I apparently cannot control my ridiculous heart’s response to an insignificant facial indent, I grapple for something I can control.

“If we’re going to repeat this conversation, you could at least put your shirt on.”

“You first.” Van winks, and I am not a fan of my stomach’s swoopy response.

I toss an annoyed grunt his way as I crouch to pick up my tee.

My hair gets ruffled as I hastily pull it over my head, but I don’t care.

Folding my arms, I eye him expectantly. Van chuckles softly and then proceeds to pull his shirt on at the speed of a geriatric turtle.

Seriously. I’ve seen clock hands move faster.

“I envy the people who don’t know you.”

My tone comes out with icy perfection, but Van just laughs, fixing his rumpled sleeve.

“Is that the best you can do?” A challenging eyebrow quirk accompanies his question.

I roll my eyes, moving toward the free weights to reorganize them.

No matter how many times I tell my boxers to put them back in their labeled places, someone always mixes them up.

Noah, my half-brother who attends class when he’s not working shifts at the fire station, probably does it on purpose just to irritate me.

“I’m not bored enough to talk to you right now. Why don’t you scoot on home?”

It’s only after I’ve said the well-worn dismissal that I remember that Van’s home is also mine for the time being. My stomach does another flip, but this one leaves nausea in its place.

“You know, you’re cute when you’re trying to scare me away. It’s adorable, really. But in all seriousness, I thought we could run through a few practicalities.”

I glance over my shoulder to scowl at him, but then my heart rate ratchets for an entirely different reason. Joanna is speed-walking across Sand Bend Road—a woman on a mission. Van catches the change in my expression and glances behind him.

“Who’s that?”

“No— No time—”

Joanna bends under the half-closed garage and practically runs me over, surrounding me in a death-grip hug. As always, she smells delectably of cinnamon and vanilla.

“I came as soon as I heard the news. Congratulations!” She leans back slightly, squeezing my shoulders.

“I should be furious I wasn’t invited to your wedding, but Carol said it was a spur-of-the-moment elopement after a year of dating long distance.

You didn’t want to share your news with anyone until your new hubby finished out his work commitments and could move here. ”

I glance at Van for clarification, but his brow furrows.

Darned Wilks Beach rumor mill.

This isn’t the first time misinformation has been spread around town. But that’s fine. I’ll clear everything up right now, and in three months’ time, it’ll be like this never happened. Van will go back to his life. I’ll go back to mine. The end.

Joanna moves her hands from my shoulders to frame my face, her eyes misting. “I had no idea. I mean, how could I? You always keep so much to yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” I croak. Someone has my windpipe in a chokehold.

“No, no. This is good. So good. Can’t you see how good this is? And it’s just like when you decided to stay in Wilks Beach or open your gym. Everything was completely finalized before you said a word.” A soft laugh bubbles free. “You’re always six steps ahead of the rest of us.”

A noncommittal sound eeks from my throat before Joanna continues.

“I’m just so happy.” Her lips drop in contradiction to her words. “I worry about you all the time. You and Noah. With everything that dirtbag—” Joanna cuts herself off. “With everything that happened to us, I figured we were all broken. You. Noah. Me. Shattered beyond repair.”

Joanna hiccups, blinking back tears, and two sensations sprint in opposite directions. My sternum breaks open, watching the woman who’s been my surrogate mother for the past five years trying not to cry, and my skin itches to be anywhere other than here, discussing the subject I hate most—feelings.

“But you’re so much stronger than the rest of us.” Her wobbly lips tip up. “Just don’t tell Noah I said that,” she adds with a watery chuckle.

“I’m absolutely telling Noah,” I answer automatically before taking a deep breath to tell Joanna the truth.

She might not like the idea that Van’s and my marriage is the result of a mistake, but she’ll understand Van’s reasoning to stay.

Joanna has always been tenderhearted. She’ll likely try to adopt him too.

At the very least, she’ll offer to be his Wilks Beach guide during his temporary stay.

Then I’ll reassure her that I’m fine—and that Noah is too.

Honestly, we’re both better off than we’ve been in a long, long time.

“I’d been having a rough few months—a rough year, really—and you being happily married is…” Joanna runs her hands over her flushed face. “To find out that you found someone, found love…it’s just what I needed. I had no idea how much I needed this until I heard the news.”

A squeaky sound comes out of my open mouth as my gaze shifts to Van, Joanna following my eyeline.

“Oh, gracious. I’m being so rude. Hi!” She crosses to him, enveloping Van in a fierce hug. “I’m Joanna.”

“Nice to meet you,” Van says warmly, his questioning gaze on me.

“Go along with it,” I mouth, frantically gesturing between the two of us.

His eyes widen with alarm.

“Please,” I mouth.

Van’s straight blond hair shifts over his forehead as he shakes his head.

Not beyond begging, I clutch my hands in front of my chest. This time, my “Please” is a hushed whisper. Van’s gaze darts from my joined fingers, to my face, to my surrogate mother still clinging to him.

“Fine,” he mouths back.

My relieved exhale is noisy, drawing Joanna’s attention.

“Did you say something, Geneva?” Her chin-length curly hair bounces around her round face as she lets go of Van.

“No.” I slide my wrapped hands into a crossed-arm position. It feels awkward, though I often stand this way.

“Okay.” When a genuine smile lifts Joanna’s lips, the tension in my spine eases. “Well, I’m off to finalize things with Clara for the party tonight.”

“What kind of party?” Van asks after a beat.

“Yours, of course. To celebrate your nuptials. The whole town is coming out.” She beams, more radiant than I’ve seen her in a long while. “Seven o’clock at Bayside Table.”

Van barely breathes as Joanna squeezes his fingers on her way out.

She pauses before slipping under the garage door. “Just so, so happy.”

We both watch, stunned, until Joanna is beyond the view of the windowed garage doors.

“Gen, I can’t—”

“Let me think,” I cut him off, beginning to pace.

I bite my thumbnail, my brain more fried than a phone left in the August sun.

Dozens of options present themselves and are swiftly dismissed.

The only thing I know for sure is that I can’t let Joanna down—not after everything she’s done for me.

Almost instantly, the memories of how I ended up in Wilks Beach, of how Joanna selflessly took me in, overwhelm me.

I press my lashes closed to push the thoughts away just as another idea pops into my mind.

“We’ll get divorced.” I stop pacing to face Van. “I mean, we were going to get divorced anyway, but we’ll divorce publicly. A messy, ugly divorce after three months. You can do something horrendous and—”

“Why am I the one to do something horrendous?” Van’s hands settle on his hips.

I snort. “It’s usually the man who screws things up.”

“Not this man.”

“What does it even matter? You won’t be here anymore. Who cares if people from a tiny town think you’re the villain?”

Van steps closer, his jaw tight. “I care.”

Warning flashes in my mind, but the words rush out anyway. “You can’t be perfect all the time, Van. You’re going to mess up eventually. And you know what happens then? No one’s going to want you around.”

His gaze softens as he closes the distance between us.

Adrenaline surges through my body, sending a tingling rush pricking my exposed skin.

I should’ve shifted back into stony silence and not given this man an inch, but something about Van makes the truth fall out of my usually clamped mouth.

And because of that, he’s learned more about me in two non-consecutive days than anyone on this island has learned in five years.

“I’d ask who hurt you, but I’m guessing from what your mom said, it was your dad.” Van tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry. I know from experience how much that stings.”

His touch is so lovely that moisture gathers at the bridge of my nose. I’m instantly angry at myself for reacting this way when I should be shoving him away.

“She’s not my mom.” I spit the words like a petulant child, not like the composed thirty-year-old I am.

Joanna is Noah’s mom, though he and I share a father—something we hadn’t known until five years ago.

I wait for surprise to resonate over Van’s mystifying gray eyes, but he softly nods his head. “Yes, she is, darlin’. Someone who cares about you like that is family. Maybe not by blood but family nonetheless.”

It’s all I can do to lift my chin and keep my breathing even, to not spill the stupid tears threatening to make a fool out of me. The corner of Van’s mouth lifts slightly, the soft affection in his gaze making everything harder.

“This is what we’re going to do,” he says, stepping back so I can finally release my tight muscles.

“We’ll head home, get cleaned up, and prepare for tonight.

If people think we’ve been dating for a year, they’re going to have questions.

Since you’re the strong, silent type, you can grunt and scowl at everyone while I talk,” Van says, sending me an endearing grin.

“I’ll take care of everything, keep the lying to a minimum so I don’t get heartburn, and afterward, we’ll stay out of the limelight. Deal?”

I nod, finally loosening my fisted fingers.

“Don’t worry, Gen.” Van gives me that dimpled smile. “I’ve got you.”

As I lock up my gym and numbly follow Van back to my house, my mind whirls. But I’m not thinking about how my life is spinning out of control or what a circus tonight will be. A single thought repeats itself, insistent as a drumbeat, as we trudge through the afternoon heat.

Only my husband calls me Gen.