Page 35

THIRTY-FOUR

JACK

NOVEMBER

“No, but the parade is a metaphor—”

“Jackie, I know it’s a metaphor.” Mara flipped me a middle finger even though we sat right next to each other in our booth for two at a quiet health food restaurant in Santa Monica. I found something at the intersection of fancy and healthy to minimize the chances for Mara to have a reaction. “When is music not a metaphor, and especially emo music?”

“I don’t know, Fall Out Boy’s pretty literal. And what about Yellowcard?”

Things were tense during our ceremony, but here at dinner, we were keeping things light. Looking Mara in the eye and promising to love her brought up so many mixed feelings. I wanted to love her at some point, and that’s the only reason I was able to vow that I would love her.

As much as I wanted to pretend they were just words, they weren’t for me. And I didn’t think they were for Mara either. I was jealous of her ability to have hope after heartbreak. Did Bryce not decimate her like Sydney did me? Was she not ruined by weird family relationships? How could she just pick up and go on?

And how the hell did she have faith in me?

“No, they’re not. They’re poetic,” she argued. “But their later work?—”

“Oh, shit, are we insufferable?” I laughed, loosening my tie and putting my arm around her shoulders. The calm that Mara brought spread through my body, like a drug into my veins getting carried through each limb.

She leaned her head on my shoulder. “We’re insufferable, but now we’re double insufferable because it’s together.”

“You’re pretty cool,” I said, taking a slug of my vodka soda. Mara had chosen that as her drink because it would be the lowest histamine option. She said champagne would increase her likelihood of a reaction. I didn’t want her to feel jealous, so I got what she got.

It’s a shit drink. It’s just rubbing alcohol with bubbles. I don’t care how fancy the booze is.

“What was that?” she asked. “You love me?”

I curled my upper lip. “No, but for real, you don’t love me, right?”

She scoffed. “So what if I did?’

“It’s just a little soon, don’t you think? We hardly know each other.”

“You’re the one who begged me to marry you,” she said, tossing back the last of her drink.

I zoned out looking into the flickering tea light in the middle of our table. “But you don’t, do you? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her brows knit as she sat up to meet my gaze. “I might not now, but I will.”

I nodded, chewing my lip.

“And I think you will too.” Her warm hand met mine on top of her thigh. “I believe in you.”

I snorted. “Probably shouldn’t.” I flagged down our waiter. “Do any of your desserts have nuts in them?”

“Only the carrot cake.”

I popped my jaw forward, not liking the sound of that. “Do you want to eat it here, or go somewhere safer?”

Mara patted my hand again. “Does the carrot cake touch the other cakes?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Let her pick the dessert, and I’ll take the check.” I kissed Mara’s cheek and stood. “Gonna hit the bathroom.”

When I came back, Mara sat with a massive slice of chocolate cake in front of her, untouched. She looked so sad, and my gut twisted.

“Dig in,” I said as I slid back into our booth.

“I was waiting for you,” she said, resting her chin in her hand. I sank my fork into it and shoveled a bite in my mouth while watching her black-rimmed eyes. Then I forked a smaller bite and held it to her lips. “You gotta taste this.”

Her face brightened as she took a dainty bite off my fork. Her brows lowered. “It’s so rich.”

I hated that she was sad because it had to be my fault. “Wanna take it to go?”

She twisted her lips and chewed her cheek. “You know what I really want?”

I’d have done just about anything to get that frown off her face. “What?”

“Pbr.”

“Pbr?”

“Yeah. Pabst Blue Ribbon.”

“Oh,” I laughed. “I know what Pbr is. I thought it was something more sophisticated. Can you drink that?”

She dug in her little pearl clutch and pulled out a pill packet. “I’ll take a bonus antihistamine. It’ll be worth it.”

“Beach beers?” I asked.

Her smile grew wider. “Beach beers.”

Mara stopped at the edge of the sidewalk leading to the beach. “One problem: sand tears up my joints. I’m basically solidifying constant cane use for the next week.”

I nodded. “Hold these.” I thrust the six-pack of Pbr tall boys at her. She clutched them to her stomach and juggled it with her cane. Then I dipped and scooped her up to her squeal. “To the beach we go.”

My dress shoes filled with sand with each step I took, but I could have cared less. Mara was in my arms, her arms looped around my neck and her legs kicking up. “Jackie baby, this is great, but it kinda hurts my back.”

“Over my shoulder?”

“Yes, please,” she keened.

I crouched to set her down gently, took the six-pack from her in one hand, and knelt so she could arrange herself on my shoulder. “Up we go. Don’t hit me with your cane.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she mused, right before slapping it across my ass.

“Hey!”

“You liked it,” she cooed.

“Can’t believe I signed up for a lifetime of this.” I set her down, tucked the beers into the sand, and helped her sit on the sand. I settled next to her and pulled a beer loose for each of us. I opened hers for her since her fingers are sometimes too bendy, something that was validated for me when she almost popped a wrist trying to open a jar.

“Cheers to a lifetime,” Mara said, clinking her can to mine and taking a long sip. She looked out over the ocean. “Did you really mean forever? The rest of our lives?”

I shrugged, kicking off my shoes to put my toes in the cold sand. “I don’t know. I guess. Why not?”

She chuckled. “Why not? We have a lot of reasons why not.”

“Yeah. I mean, if things keep going good, we keep going. If we hate each other, we call it off.”

She folded her legs into her lap, arranging her dress over them. “But what if it messes up the kids?”

“We’ll just take it as it comes. See where life takes us. I think both of us want what’s best for them. I asked you to marry me because you’re good with the kids.”

She shivered and I took off my suit jacket, draping it around her shoulders. “Thanks,” she said, giving me a bittersweet look. “It’s just kind of bonkers.”

“I mean, so is regular marriage,” I said, leaning back on my hands. “You try people on, and you try them forever. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.”

“I don’t want another divorce,” she murmured.

I leaned down to her ear and whispered, “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

She laughed, slowly at first, then fully cracking up. “What did we do?” she shouted, cackling at the dark water rolling in front of us. “Wait, was this a green card marriage? Did you actually need me to become a citizen? Have I been bamboozled?”

“I have a work visa, thank you very much,” I protested. “I don’t need you. But it does help.”

“Everyone’s got their motives. Nothing is clean.”

A couple was walking by. “Hey, sir? Can you take our picture?”

They approached us. “You guys get married today?”

“Eloped,” Mara said, her smile in her voice.

We got enthusiastic congratulations and posed every which way. Mara poured beer in my mouth like we were at a college party. We kissed for the camera. We linked arms and drank our Pbrs like it was wedding champagne, her smiling eyes glowing at me. I thought how wild we must look: a couple in our late thirties, having cheap beer on the beach on our wedding night. I took my phone back, committing to look at the photos later and just enjoy the moment now.

Christmas lights decorated the palm trees at the edge of the beach, and I had the stray thought that I felt just as lit up with Mara pressed into my side.

“I don’t think I can have more than one,” she said as she drained her can.

“Nah, let’s go home.”

“‘Kay.”

But rather than getting up, we just sat looking at each other. “You’re really beautiful today, Mara.”

“So are you, Jackie baby. Every day.”

I cupped her neck. “I think I picked the right one.”

We met in a kiss, and for a moment, I felt a spark of hope. This woman made me feel things I never thought I’d feel again. What am I saying ‘again?’ I never felt them at all. I felt this surging, protective, proud love for my kids. The way I loved Sydney was desperate, imploring her to care about me, begging her for scraps and forever getting strung along.

But Mara didn’t do that. Mara had an open heart, and she left the door open for me.

Mara made me feel things I’d never felt before, and I had no idea what to do with that.