Page 7 of Marriage is a Shore Thing (Wilks Beach #2)

six

Van

“Don’t you own something other than black?” I ask while sitting on Geneva’s bed.

She glares at me through the mirror of the ensuite bathroom, applying lipstick.

It’s maddening, that bright-red color—nothing like I’ve seen her wear before.

Geneva’s dress, however, is very similar to the one she wore in Vegas—tight and black.

Her entire wardrobe seems to revolve around various shades of pitch darkness.

“It matches the color of my heart,” she quips, capping the lipstick and tucking it into the side of her dress’s bodice.

I glance away, certain that my ears are turning pink.

That’s another reason I don’t lie. Both Mama and Taylor could always tell if I was fibbing—my ears gave me away.

I keep talking to distract myself, moving to thumb through her open closet. “You could pepper in a bit of color. Perhaps a muddy brown or morose burgundy?”

When Geneva doesn’t answer, I look over my shoulder to find her leaning against the door jamb to the bathroom, arms crossed and frowning.

My little storm cloud.

“If you really wanted to shock people, you could add in yellow or chartreuse,” I say, needling her.

Geneva marches over, shutting the slotted closet doors and nearly taking off my finger. “I’m already shocking the town with your existence.”

We spent the afternoon learning about each other in preparation for tonight.

Or rather, Geneva tossed my file at me, asked for me to point out inaccuracies—which creepily, there were none—and I pulled teeth, gathering barely enough information about her to satisfy the impending crowd.

Geneva’s rationale was that no one in Wilks Beach knows much about her, so me knowing details was irrelevant.

I did discover that she’s originally from Philadelphia, she has a degree in business administration, and the rough details of her philandering father.

Geneva admitted with an unconvincing shrug that everyone in town knew the basics, and therefore, so should I.

Every cell itched to hold her, but since Geneva’s body language gave off touch me and die vibes, I maintained my distance and made us a late lunch instead.

It’d also been necessary to subdue my impulse to ask follow-up questions, knowing there’s so much more to that story.

Following that instinct usually proves right in my medical practice.

When I get a hunch to order a seemingly unnecessary CT scan or an extra lab test, I usually find a disorder that, if left to fester, would have created problems later on.

I want to understand Geneva on a cellular level, but I know earning her trust will be a slow-going endeavor.

I cock my head, waving my hand in a small circle. “Would putting me down help dispel some of this black-cat energy before we’re supposed to be social?”

“You smell like a bag of wet grandmas,” Geneva tells me with a straight face.

The laugh bursting from my belly causes the corner of her lip to quiver. It’s a beautiful sight until she forces it down.

“That’s a good one. Hit me again.”

This time, she doesn’t restrain her smirk, and I freaking love it.

“Talking to you is as riveting as reading a car manual.”

I splay my hand over my chest like I’ve suffered a bullet wound. “Stop. I can’t take it.”

Geneva leans in, a delightfully wicked gleam in her eye. “I love how you walk around with the confidence of a tall man.”

“Hey now.” I pull my shoulders back, rising to my full height. “Those are fightin’ words.”

“Don’t I know it,” she says, bouncing her eyebrows at me before striding out of the room.

I chase after her, grinning like a lunatic, down the stairs and toward the door to her backyard. Once we’re both outside, Geneva engages the smart lock, waiting until it’s done whirring to double-check it’s secure.

“Should I know the code to that?”

She’s halfway through rolling her eyes before she exhales sharply. “Probably. It’s 0270.”

I nod. “Your birthday backward.”

Geneva is wearing dark sunglasses over her eyes, but her lips part in surprise.

I tap the side of my temple with my index finger. “Brilliant mind, remember? I believe that was the exact phrasing in the report.”

She snorts, striding through the dirt yard in pencil-thin heels without a hint of a wobble. “Be good, ladies,” she tells the closed chicken coop before opening the gate to the street.

Before we got dressed, Geneva ensured that her chickens were safely tucked away for the evening. It’d been sweet, watching her softly chat to each one while giving them kitchen scraps and changing out their water.

“What are their names again?” I ask, jogging after her.

I remember exactly, but I want Geneva to tell me again.

“Prunella, Stella, and Hank.”

“And Hank is a hen.”

It’d been mistaken gender identity when Geneva had rescued the chicks two years ago.

She’d been on a beach run and seen the three chicks struggling to stay afloat in the surf.

After getting them safely home, Geneva had searched the internet for how to sex chicks, only getting two thirds of it correct.

Geneva exhales noisily. “Yes.”

“Who lays eggs?”

She stops in her tracks, wheeling on me. “Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Most definitely.” I can’t help the enormous smile overtaking my face.

I’m rewarded with a growl but decide to refrain from poking at her for the rest of the short walk to Bayside Table.

From my excursion earlier today, I discovered that Bayside Table is the only restaurant and bar in town.

It seems more than enough, though, with its large outdoor entertainment space—a grassy area that stretches beyond an open-air bar and dance floor situated beside the restaurant.

The waterfront restaurant has large glass windows facing the bay and a dock holding six boat slips for patrons to arrive by sea.

It seems, though, most Wilks Beach residents arrive like us, on foot.

I follow Geneva to the outdoor space where picnic tables and Adirondack chairs are interspaced with a giant Connect Four, oversized Jenga, and several cornhole setups.

String lights frame the grassy area, adding an ethereal glow to the sun setting across Back Bay.

A handmade Congrats, Newlyweds banner stretches across the covered bar area already teeming with locals.

“Are you ready for this?” I mutter out of the side of my mouth.

Geneva looks ready. She looks like she could take on a gang of ninjas without wrinkling her dress.

“Not even a little,” she murmurs, spine perfectly straight, chin poised.

“Hey.” I step in front of her, loosely framing her arms and cheering internally when she doesn’t shrug off my touch. “Let’s just stick to the basics. The more honest we are, the easier this will be.”

Geneva rolls her lips, the slightest hint of uncertainty tracing her brow. “Thank you for going along with this. I know you didn’t want to, and—”

“It’s okay.” I ignore how she shivers slightly when my thumb slides over her bare shoulder. “Joanna seems like a wonderful woman. I understand why you’d want to protect her feelings.”

“Just for a little while.”

A small smile lifts my mouth. “Just for a little while.”

That’s the last moment we’re alone. Initially, Joanna steers us around the grassy space, making introductions.

I quickly learn that Geneva had been in Vegas with Vivian, a local dress tailor, and her twin sister, Brynn, who owns Seabreeze Beans—Wilks Beach’s only coffee shop.

Cade, a beachside masseuse, went along too, while Summer, a pediatrician, missed the trip to attend a medical conference.

Geneva stays nearly silent as I chat up every person who congratulates us. Geneva doesn’t remove her sunglasses, hiding her eyes as the sky blurs from orange to purple to deep blue.

“This explains everything,” Cade, a pink-haired woman who just introduced her boyfriend, William, tells me. “We could all feel that connection between the two of you in Vegas, and now it makes perfect sense. You already knew each other!”

“I missed out on so much by not going to Vegas,” Summer mutters to her boyfriend, Nick.

Cade brightens. “We’ll have to do it again! Maybe make it a yearly girls’ trip.”

They erupt into animated chatter over the suggestion, but Geneva doesn’t move an inch. Her rigid muscles will need an Epsom salt bath after how tight she’s kept her posture tonight.

“The two of you being married is so crazy,” Vivian says, leaning onto the arm of her boyfriend, Finn. “But, like, a good crazy. We should do a double date sometime.”

I’m about to say that would be wonderful when a man in firefighter blues marches toward us, and impossibly, Geneva’s posture stiffens even more. Brynn, who’s said nothing other than to introduce herself, stops eyeing me dubiously and excuses herself.

The man’s gaze follows Brynn—disappointment dotting his brow—before zeroing in on me, his jaw tight.

My shoulders slide back automatically as I quickly scan the area around us.

There are too many people surrounding us, but perhaps I can convince him to speak to me near the water’s edge.

Though we usually have uniformed officers in the ER to help us if a patient or family member becomes aggressive, I often need to diffuse things before they can get into the room.

“Noah!” Joanna trots over, the silver bangles around her wrist tinkling with the movement. “Meet your new brother-in-law, Van. Sorry he’s late,” she tells me. “They were out on a call. Nothing dangerous, I hope?”

“Just a medical call in Pungo,” Noah answers, crushing my outstretched hand.

I give him a fierce handshake, but his hard expression doesn’t drop. His arms fold over his chest, mirroring Geneva’s favorite posture, but Noah’s features are a duplication of Joanna’s. They’ve got the same curly brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles.

Joanna lays a hand on her son’s arm. “Isn’t this wonderful? Our little family is expanding.”

“Stupendous,” he says, glaring at me.

The following silence is as stagnant as mosquito-egg-infested swamp water. Everyone but Joanna drops away with murmured excuses.

“Van is an ER doctor,” Geneva blurts, speaking sentences for the first time since we arrived. “I bet the two of you could trade stories for hours. Right, Sugarpieface?” Her brown eyes nervously slip to Joanna before returning to mine, pleading.

Sugarpieface? I nearly choke on the chuckle trying to break free.

“Always happy to talk shop,” I say, turning toward Noah with an affable smile.

“That’s actually perfect.” Joanna grins at me before focusing on Geneva. “Camille wanted to chat with you about organizing a mom-and-me boxing class for middle and high school girls and their mothers.”

When Geneva hesitates, I lean close to whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

I give her my biggest smile as Joanna tugs her away.

“Alright, I think we both know you’re lying,” Noah says once we’re alone. “There’s no way you’re married, so why don’t you just tell me the truth. I’m going to find out anyway.”

“We are married.”

“Sure. And I’m a merman—just look at my shiny scales.”

I sigh internally, taking another tactic. “This sure makes your mom happy.”

Noah’s gaze slips over the distance, finding Joanna with an eclectically dressed woman of the same age. Geneva removes her sunglasses, some of the tension in her frame softening while speaking to the wildly gesticulating woman. When the corner of her mouth quirks, a helpless exhale leaves my lips.

“Oh crap. You really like her. I thought this was some sort of insurance scheme or something.”

Geneva is smart and strong-willed, unexpectedly funny, and undeniably gorgeous. I liked her when I first met her in Vegas, and that feeling hasn’t diminished since.

“It’s complicated, but it’s not insurance fraud,” I say, not taking my eyes off Geneva.

Her head turns toward me in halting degrees, almost as if she’s fighting herself. When our gazes catch, an electrical spike shoots through my bloodstream. I should be used to the sensation by now, but man, it sucks the air from my lungs every time.

“This is weird,” Noah says, dragging my attention back to the conversation.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“No. Look.” Noah points above my head, and I glance up to see a cluster of fireflies.

My brow furrows. “Lightning bugs? What’s weird about that?”

“No. They’re— Maybe you can’t see it from your angle.” Noah pulls out his phone and quickly snaps a picture of me before showing me his screen. “They don’t usually do that for mainlanders.”

“What in the—” I lean forward, seeing how the fireflies hover above me in a heart outline. “That’s—” I glance up at the flitting insects. “Are they still doing it?”

“Yeah.” He laughs, running his hand through his hair. “Honestly, you don’t need the lightning bugs broadcasting your emotions when they’re written all over your face.”

I should probably protect my pride here, but I’ve never bought into that macho nonsense.

Another byproduct of being raised by strong-willed women is that I’m not afraid of talking about my feelings.

After having to lie through my teeth all night, it’s refreshing to be given the opportunity to tell the truth.

I open my mouth, but Geneva swatting violently above my head surprises me.

“This crazy island.” The words are hissed through clenched teeth. “Like tonight wasn’t enough of a spectacle.”

“Come on,” Noah goads. “Aren’t newlyweds supposed to be surrounded by cosmic signs of love?”

“That’s it. We’re going home.” Geneva grabs my hand and starts to drag me toward the road.

“Hey,” I start at the same time Noah says, “You can’t leave. You’re the guests of honor.”

“Tell everyone the guests of honor needed to get to bed.” Her steps falter slightly when she realizes the alternative meaning to that sentence.

“But you still haven’t told me what’s going on,” Noah says, voice low. “You’ve sworn off men, Geneva. I know this can’t be something you planned.”

She groans, looking skyward. “Fine. Come over tomorrow, and I’ll explain everything. Just don’t mention anything to your mom.”

Noah hesitates a breath. “Okay.”

Once we’re a few blocks down the road, I ask, “Are you going to explain the light show?”

“Stupid island magic.”

I didn’t think it was possible for Geneva’s scowl to deepen.

“Island what? I’m going to need more details.”

“Not tonight, you don’t.”

Her jaw is so rigid I worry about her dental work, but her steady grip on my fingers hasn’t decreased. I wonder if she’s even aware of it. So instead of poking, instead of trying to lighten the situation with a joke, I stay silent and let my gorgeous wife hold my hand and lead me home.