Then Comes Marriage (16 page)

Margery puts her hands on the table and stands. “I have to go drag Mom and Aunt Becky away from the pool. They’ve been watching the lifeguard all afternoon. Plus, hearing my brother flirting is…ugh.” She shudders and makes a face. “Nice talking to you Rachel.”
 

“I’m not…not flirting,” I mumble and flick my eyes to Rachel. What if she doesn’t want me flirting with her? She recently got out of a serious relationship. I don’t want to come off as taking advantage of her.

“You’re not?” she asks, leaning a little closer. “That’s embarrassing then, because I am.”
 

Fuck me
.
 

She checks the time on her phone. “We should go.” She puts her phone back in her bag, grabs her drink, and stands. “Escort me to the pig roast, sir?”
 

She is something else. Something I know I’ll never have again. Something I don’t want to ever let go of. And for right now, part of me is yelling—begging—me to go for it. Take her hand and just have fun.
 

But the other part, the part that has come to rule, reminds me this is all temporary. Rebound aside, we’re on vacation. When this is over, she’s going to Michigan, and I’m going to Texas. There’s no point in pursuing something that could lead to…to what? If my heart no longer works, it can’t be broken, right?
 

Maybe this is a mistake. Rachel doesn’t want or need to be involved with someone like me, no matter how fugacious our time together is. I don’t want to bring Rachel down, not after everything she’s been through. I hardly know her, yet I only want what’s best for her…which kind of freaks me out. Why do I care so much about this woman?
 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Rachel says softly.

I shake myself, realizing that I’m so caught up in my own dark thoughts that I haven’t moved, haven’t taken her outstretched hand. “I want to,” I tell her and take her hand, linking my fingers through hers. Just that small bit of skin against skin sends a jolt through me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt a woman’s body, and even longer since I shared something deeper.
 

“Where to, my lady?”
 

“Somewhere over there.” She points to the shore. “Down the beach and over where the trees are. It’s a bit of a walk. Do you mind?”
 

“If you’re walking with me, I don’t mind one bit.”
 

The smile is back on her face and her hand twitches ever so slightly in mine. “It’s a traditional pig roast, so it’s really like dinner and a show. I watched a few videos on Youtube and it seems pretty cool.”

“Would you have gone to this alone?” I have to ask.
 

“Yes,” she says definitely. “I didn’t want to miss it. Though, if I’m being honest, the thought of sitting at a dinner table alone kind of terrifies me, which I know is silly because it’s just dinner. Nothing scary, nothing dangerous.”

“I don’t think it’s silly,” I tell her. “But I
do
think you’re kind of amazing for coming here by yourself. I think most people in your situation would give up and not done this.”
 

“I considered it,” she confesses. “And this goes back to me saying how
not
well adjusted I am. After the shock wore off, I felt a bit of freedom, which I hadn’t felt in a long time. Of course I’m going to say my ex is the biggest asshole in the world, but before the cheating, back when I…when I loved him, he wasn’t the nicest to me and I should have gotten out. But I’d already moved to Texas, already planned the wedding. Already paid for a lot of said wedding. I was doing what I thought I should do and had myself convinced that not being true to myself was all a part of growing up.”
 

She turns her head to me, and golden light from the setting sun illuminates her face. My breath catches in my chest, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

What. The. Fuck.
 

The last time I was affected so much by just one look was when Benjamin was born. It took one look into his dark, newborn eyes and I was a goner.
 

And then he was gone.
 

I didn’t think my heart was capable of feeling anything else.
 

What the hell is in this drink?

“But now I know,” Rachel continues, “that being an adult doesn’t mean I have to sacrifice my happiness. And I certainly shouldn’t be with someone who makes me ashamed of who I am.”

I actually stop walking to stare at her incredulously. “Your ex was ashamed of you? Had he never actually met you?”
 

She smiles again, and I realize that the smile is her armor. But what I can’t figure out is if she’s trying to fool the world or fool herself. Looking at the passing ocean, she says, “It’s not a big deal anymore. He was always telling me how I was weird and people wouldn’t like me—or more specifically him—because of it. And I tried, as shameful as that is to admit, I tried to hide who I was so I would fit in. But that only made me miserable.”
 

“Life is too short to be anything but yourself.”
 

Hair blows across Rachel’s face. I let go of her hand and brush it back, gently tucking it behind her ear. Her lips part, eyes open wide, and slowly inhales. If I looked anywhere other than into her eyes, it would be a sin. My heart pounds in my chest, longing with want, longing with need.

“Wise words,” she whispers. “I need to write them down.”
 

I blink out of the reverie that is Rachel and nod. “Yeah.” She runs her hand through her hair then links her arm through mine. We start walking again and I can’t figure out what the fuck is going on. Since when do I say anything remotely profound? What is it about this woman that’s making me all…all emotional and shit?
 

I don’t like it.
 

Or do I?
 

“That’s where we go,” she says, pointing to a small cluster of trees on the top of a hill. “And looks like we’re early so we can get a good seat.”

“A good seat right by the pig.”
 

“I was thinking more like the bar.” She laughs, takes a drink, then turns to me, face serious. “I promise I’m not an alcoholic.”
 

“I can tell you’re not. It’s vacation, you get a pass.”
 

We’re one of the first couples to be seated. The tables are large, and at least four more people will be joining us. A band sets up on a stage to the right, and a few people stand around the hole in the sand where the pig is roasting, eagerly waiting for to feast later tonight.
 

“So,” Rachel says once we’re seated. “What do you do for fun?”

Fun? What is fun? “I like to work out.”
 

She raises an eyebrow. “That’s not fun.”
 

“I enjoy it. And you do too. You’re a runner.”
 

“A poser,” she laughs. “I’m only trying to stay in shape in case zombies take over. I jog because as a nurse I know how important it is to be healthy, but I don’t actually like it.”
 

“I go to the gun range.”
 

“That’s work,” she tells me. “Related to work. You know what I mean.”
 

I shake my head. “I don’t do much else. Work keeps me busy, really.”
 

“Well, you have a week here to change that.”
 

The band starts up, soft ukulele music floating through the warm evening air. Rachel takes a minute to appreciate the outside restaurant. Neither of us speak for several minutes, but between the atmosphere and the music, it feels natural. People start to filter in, and the band introduces itself, then starts another song.
 

I don’t listen intently, but some of the lyrics catch my ear. Something about being lonely and starting over. I reach for my drink.
 

“Oh geez,” Rachel whispers. “They’re still at it.”
 

I know right away she’s talking about a young couple who are hanging all over each other. “And that, folks, is what public indecency looks like,” I say, making Rachel laugh. “You said ‘still’, so I’m guessing you’ve seen them before.”

“Before the falls. They’re newlyweds.” She leans in. “Is it wrong I find that entertaining?”
 

“I think it depends on what you mean by entertaining. You know, some people like to watch.”
 

“Are you one of those people?” she says coyly. “Do you like to watch?”
 

I can’t handle this woman. I swallow hard and move toward her, breathing in her scent. It’s the ocean and sunshine and something soothing, lavender maybe? “If it’s the right person, then yes, I do like to watch.”
 

She takes her lip between her teeth and laughs before twisting in her seat, pointing her torso at mine. I slide my hand across table, fingertips brushing against hers.
 

“Hey! We’re joining you at the newlywed table!” someone shouts. I feel disoriented when I whirl around, looking at the red-head Rachel pointed out who was all over her new husband. “The waitress told us this table was for new couples only.” She winks and pulls out a chair next to Rachel. Her husband, who is tall and thin with thick black curls, nods a hello. “You didn’t tell me you were on your honeymoon too! Congratulations, both of you!”
 

I can feel the tension coming off Rachel, and she freezes. Unblinking, she stares straight ahead, color rushing to her cheeks. I’m not sure what goes through my head, but I put my arm around her, pulling her in for a hug without any hesitation.
 

“Thanks. And congrats to you too,” I say.

Rachel takes in a shaky breath then pats my arm. “Yeah, congrats.”
 

“This is great! I’m Kelly, and this is my husband, David. Isn’t it so weird to say that. Husband! Ah!” she screams and jumps up, clapping her hands. “Husband, husband, husband!” She laughs at herself, boisterous and—if I’m being honest—obnoxious. “We can talk all about our weddings. Oh! Wait, no, no, no. Back up, Kelly. Sorry I get ahead of myself all the time. Tell me who you are and how you two met!”
 

Rachel straightens up and gets her drink, draining every drop. “I’m Rachel and my husband over here is Derek. You tell us how you met first.”
 

“I can do that!” Kelly doesn’t speak. She shouts. A loud-talker, excited about everything. If this wasn’t so damn awkward, I’d be laughing along with her. “We were a match on not one, but two dating websites! Can you say fate?”
 

Her husband, David, slinks his arm around her neck and plants a kiss on her cheek. “Six months later and here we are! Still can’t believe this little fox is mine! What about you? How did you two love birds meet?”

“We…uh…” Rachel is panicking.

“Work,” I start and take her hand. “We’re both government agents, though I can’t say which department. I was working violent crimes, specializing in obscure cases and my darling little forensic researcher was assigned to keep my cases as scientifically sound as possible.” Hey, if you’re going to lie, might as well do it in style.

“Wow!” Kelly says. “That is so interesting!”
 

Rachel is now trying not to laugh but plays right along. “I didn’t even like him at first. Thought he was totally nuts, but all his conspiracy theories really made me challenge everything I went to school for. The rest is history and now we’re here, celebrating the two wonderful years we had before we united as one.” She grabs my drink and takes a big gulp.
 

Kelly puts her hand over her chest. “That is so sweet, like something you’d read about in a book!”
 

“Or watch on TV in the late nineties,” I say earning a swift kick under the table from Rachel.
 

“Oh, I suppose.” Kelly blinks a few times. “Did you have a big wedding?”

I shake my head. “No, just close friends and family. You?”
 

“Oh yeah,” David says. “Invited everyone we knew.” He turns into Kelly, rubbing his nose on hers. “I wanted the world to see this sexy thing become mine and only mine.” Then they start making out.
 

“What the hell, Agent Mulder?” Rachel hisses, trying her best to be pissed when I can tell she’s still trying to keep her cool and not laugh.
 

“You’re welcome.”
 

Her smile makes it all worth it. Another couple joins us, both older and on their second marriage. The waitress, a young woman wearing a shiny coconut bra and white skirt, comes over to take drink orders. I get a beer and Rachel orders a glass of wine. Two men in traditional Hawaiian garb go into the fire pit and grab shovels, announcing it’s time to uncover the roast. The patrons all erupt in cheers. Everyone gets up and gathers around to watch. Then it’s back to the table to start dinner and the shows.
 

“New idea,” Rachel tells me. “When I kill you, I’m going to bury and cook you like that. Then I’ll feed your flesh to unsuspecting people and destroy all evidence.”
 

“What about the bones?” I counter. “And the blood. And organs. They all leave traces of DNA.”
 

“Dammit,” she says, shaking her fist. “Give me a minute. I’ll…uh…grind your bones into bread, make soup out of your organs, and drink your blood.”
 

“You’ll still get caught,” Derek says.
 

“Teach me your murdering ways, Obi Wan.”
 

We both laugh and our tablemates stare at us like we’re crazy. Hell, we probably are. Because there is nothing sane about this, about us.
 

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
 

~*~

“It’s not that late,” Rachel says when dinner ends. We talked and laughed throughout dinner, missing half the hula dancing because we were engrossed in conversation with each other. We’re the last to leave the luau, and we walk hesitantly from our table. “Do you want to walk along the beach with me?”
 

“I would like that.”