Chapter Twenty-Four #2
Do you have concerns about healthcare accessibility on our island?
“Carlos lived with Mrs. Buckerfield for years. I almost took you to her café when we went out to eat. But I thought it might be too much pressure. Now I’m thinking I should have introduced you sooner.”
“You don’t have to do anything! I’m just bitching.”
“You’re scared.”
“You’re pushy.”
“It’s okay to be scared, Kayla. You’re starting over here. I remember when I came here—”
“You remember that you had… concerns about healthcare accessibility on our island?” I hold one of the letters up in front of my face. “If so, Sid Charles wants to hear from you.”
“When I came here, I felt lost for a while—”
“That’s probably because you don’t own any furniture. No landmarks.”
“Would you stop changing the topic?”
“Nope.” I pass him the finished letter. “Look, I know you’re trying to be nice, but it isn’t helping. I’m not there yet.”
“You’re never going to get there if you don’t do anything about it.”
“Carlos is teaching me,” I snap. “And why does something have to be my job, just because I like it?”
“It doesn’t, but if you’re not happy, shouldn’t something change?”
“You know what? You’re right. I like cooking. I’m complaining about nothing. I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll shut up about it now.”
“That’s not—” But I throw him a glare, and he relents. “Fine! Never mind. You are impossible.”
It takes all my self-control not to reopen the argument just so I can have the last word.
This feels—obnoxiously—like a real marriage.
I can hear my parents in our voices, arguing behind closed doors about the Grand Astrologue and whether living in Astolia long term was safe.
Only Sid and I are mad at each other over much stupider things.
Aren’t we lucky? We’ve got all the petty annoyances of marriage with none of the make-up sex.
“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “You just wanted someone to listen to you, didn’t you?”
I shove another stack of letters in his direction. “Yes. I did.”
“I’ll try to do better next time.”
“Thank you.”
“Just—please don’t stop talking to me again. Back when you were scared of me—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I place a hand over his, hoping it reassures him. “I’m sorry too. I promise I won’t ice you out like that again, okay? But… sometimes I need time to think about things before I’m ready to talk about them. Or try to solve them.”
He nods, twisting his fingers into mine like he does when we’re out in public. “I’ll try to remember that. But… it was Hell, Kayla. I never want to be someone you’re afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid of you. We’re still figuring this out. We’re going to have arguments.”
“True.”
His thumb slides across my knuckles, caressing them and drawing a soft hum of pleasure from me. It might have taken us a while to get here, but I do feel better. Maybe he’s better at listening than I gave him credit for.
“Well… we should probably get back to these letters,” he says.
“Oh! Absolutely.” I pull my hand from his as an unsettling thought occurs to me.
We hold hands all the time when we’re out in public. Obviously, some things are going to turn into habits. But the fact remains that tonight, we did not have an audience. We reached for each other anyway.
I’ve done a decent job of stowing my heart away.
A weaker woman would have ripped his shirt off him by now, I’m sure of it.
For instance, this morning, Sid took a break from his campaign and stayed home to help on the acreage.
The compost piles needed turning one more time before winter sets in.
Sid spent several hours forking over the layers of leaves, dead summer plants and kitchen waste, working up a sweat.
Maybe I watched as he took off his button down and tied it around his waist, nothing but a tank top remaining.
Maybe he even caught me staring and asked, “What are you looking at?”
I smirked at him. “I was just thinking that a guy built like you is going to be absolutely wasted sitting behind a desk.”
He laughed and went right back to work. Every roll of his shoulders or twist of his wrist caused a cascade of ripples, like waves bumping up against the contour of a jagged, gravel beach. Like the waves, they teased at something far greater. His body is a vast ocean I’ve yet to explore.
And I never will. I value Sid as a friend, but there are certain lines I’m not willing to cross.
For one thing, April needs us to stay together long enough for her to become a full citizen.
I can only imagine what a mess it would be if Sid and I got involved, only to want to break up, except oops!
We’re married. I can’t go anywhere for at least two years.
Even without April to consider, I wouldn’t do that to Curtis.
I promised I would always love him, and I still do.
But as Sid seals another letter shut and I think about his campaign—about the people who might want to prove we have a sham marriage and ruin everything for both of us—sometimes, it feels like we’re ignoring the obvious solution.
It would be so easy to convince people that I’m in love with Sid if I actually was.