Chapter Seventeen #2
She shuts the washhouse door. “Get in the tub. We can argue while I untangle your hair.”
I grunt and pull off my T-shirt. The tub has already been filled; James really did think of everything. It’s not warm, but I’ve rinsed off in colder streams. I sud up with a bar of lye soap, occasionally bracing my hands on either side of the tub as April mercilessly yanks a comb through my curls.
“Are you trying to make this hurt more?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” April tugs again. “You married a stranger.”
“C’mon, Sid isn’t really—”
“You married a stranger! You couldn’t think of some other way to get a bit of stupid money and so you—”
“I didn’t have a choice. We need his citizenship.”
“But what about when we become citizens? This whole problem is temporary, but now you’ve run off and married him—”
“The marriage is temporary, too.” I twist my head to try to see her. She’s clutching the comb so hard her knuckles are white. “Sid says we can get divorced once we’re covered.”
“Divorced?”
“That’s what he says.”
“Kayla! What if he’s tricking you? Is that why you went along with it?”
“No.” I fix her with a firm eye. “I agreed to it before I knew about the divorce thing. He didn’t trick me. He doesn’t even want to have sex.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
I sigh, sinking deeper into the soapy water. “It’s still true.”
April doesn’t have a response to that, but she does go back to untangling my hair. Her hands are gentler now as she mulls this over instead of taking out her anger on my scalp.
“I guess a place with a hospital and a school might have divorce too,” she says at last.
“Right? Oh! And guess what? Downtown, they have a library!”
That brings out a gasp. “Yes! Did you see it? A girl in my English class told me about it. She says it’s even bigger than the one at school.”
“It’s amazing. Sid took me after the wedding.”
“You’ve got to take me with you next time!”
“Oh, absolutely.”
She tries to laugh, only for it to catch in her throat. “Kayla… I thought you were stuck forever.”
“No. Just a couple of years.”
“Well… that’s not too bad, then.” She blinks, the relief so intense on her face, she’s obviously struggling not to burst into tears. “You should have told me first, but… I guess it’s better than the government splitting us up.”
“Definitely better.”
“I … I was so worried. I couldn’t handle it if you ruined your life over me.” She rubs her eyes.
“April, if it was for you, it wouldn’t be ruining my life.”
“Shut up and face forward.” She sniffs back the last of her tears. “I need to get this hair tamed.”
She’s in a much better mood after that, chattering about how excited she is to try the makeup on me. Once she’s finished with the matts in my hair, we do our best to squeeze out the excess water and I dry off.
Apparently, this occasion calls for every frilly thing we own.
April lends me a seashell necklace of hers we picked up ages ago, and despite my reservations, I don the sunflower dress.
April flips to a page in one of her favourite magazines and does her best to recreate something called a cat eye.
What this means is she spends an exorbitant amount of time, painting, wiping away, then repainting the charcoal cream on my eyelids.
Finally, she’s satisfied and blends a small amount of the beetroot into my cheeks before painting my lips a deep red.
“You know, James is right. Now that I know you’ve got your divorce planned, this is hilarious,” she says, pinning the veil securely to my head. “Fun, even.”
“Right?”
But all April’s words have done is highlight how strange my own reaction was when Sid told me the news. She heard about my impending freedom and was immediately happy. So why do I still have this unsettled bubble in my stomach?
Once I’m trussed up to April’s satisfaction, she unlocks the door, though doesn’t let me through.
There’s a lot of whispering and sniggering.
She reappears, clutching a bundle of heather tied up with—I suspect—another piece of the pillowcase on my head.
The ends of the bow are frayed, but it’s undeniably a bouquet.
“We’re ready.” She beams at me. “Just walk down the stairs. James took care of the rest.”
This is so ridiculous. I only agreed because it annoyed Sid. I bet he didn’t let James pressure him into dressing up. There’s no way his lips taste weirdly of beets right now. But I step out, because Carlos made a cake, damn it.
Sid isn’t wearing makeup, but he does look different. The five o’clock shadow is gone from his jaw and he sports a black jacket to match the top hat. Very smart.
I grin and close the door behind me. At the sound of the latch, he turns to look at me. And swallows.
For a second, I’m frozen. James starts strumming his guitar as the other boys cheer. One wolf whistles, but I don’t see who, because Sid has not blinked since locking eyes with me.
My whole body explodes with heat. What idiot said it was too cold for a sundress?
I’m burning up. Unfortunately, that means I’m flushed across my boobs, which he’s never seen so prominently displayed before.
Or my shoulders. Or my arms. Or my calves.
Shit, there is a lot of me available and he cannot stop staring.
“Go on, Kayla.” April prods me in the ribs and I stumble gracelessly down the first step.
Automatically, Sid reaches out, and instead of catching myself on the railing, it’s his hand that guides me down the stairs.
I’m shaking as I draw in front of him, like we did in the courthouse.
Only now, Silas is officiating, still decked out in the Santa hat.
He’s wearing the only serious expression in the entire party. Well, him and Sid, who is putting a lot of work into breathing right now.
Silas doesn’t bother with most of the ceremony. He simply raises his arms like a preacher and says, “By the power vested in me as Lord of all Christmas, I pronounce you man and wife. Now, kiss the bride.”
“Kiss the bride! Kiss the bride!” everyone chants, including April. James even changes the rhythm of the chords he’s strumming to keep time. “Kiss the bride! Kiss the bride!”
“Sid,” I whisper. “You know you have to.”
Another swallow. But he nods and leans in.
I reach for his neck and his hand closes around my waist, lifting me towards him.
I’ve barely registered the surprise at his touch—warm through the thin cotton dress—when our mouths meet.
The boys erupt into cheers, but the din is nothing next to the blood pounding in my ears.
It isn’t a long kiss. Why should it be? Just long enough for his lips to part against mine. Long enough that I twist my head to get a better angle. My tongue brushes against his and my belly swirls. He nips softly at my lip.
Just a short kiss. And as I land back on my heels, I could almost kiss James, too, because Sid tastes of mint instead of the cigarettes. Well, that and…
Sid reaches up, touches his mouth. “You… had this sweet flavor? Like…”
“Beetroot?” I supply.
“Oh, that’s it.” He laughs, and the tension in my chest releases. Maybe that whole rabbit in a snare act he gave me on the stairwell was nerves. James probably told him he had to kiss me and as Sid made clear earlier, he doesn’t want to do that.
But that swallow.
I’m overthinking this. Sid isn’t attracted to me—the woman who fired a slingshot at him. And why would I want him to be? I’ve got no interest in pursuing him because I’m never risking what happened with Curtis again and—
Curtis.
It truly hits me that I’ve kissed another man three times now. Even if there were good reasons every time, I’m a traitor.
“As the lady requested, a first dance!” James starts a tune with a slow, plucked accompaniment. “Please enjoy The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, arrange ment courtesy of the Gordon Lightfoot songbook I snagged at the exchange last week.”
His tenor is a perfect, folksy warble. It’s not a song I’ve heard before, but immediately, I love it.