Page 111 of Every Chance After

My brother blushes at the compliment, unsurely eyeing his dark jeans and fitted Zelda t-shirt. I’d asked him to make an effort, although our definition varies. Along with wearing clothes that fit and look nice on him, he even tamed his messy brown hair and wore his dark-framed glasses, highlighting his strong cheekbones and bold blue eyes. He goes in for a hug as she approaches, nestling her to him while eyeing me over her shoulder and smirking, the asshole.

But I deserve it. This was a shit idea.

They file into the house, greeting my rambunctious dogs. Gil hands me a bottle of wine, surely pinched from my parents’ collection since he doesn’t go to grocery stores.

“How thoughtful, Gil,” Marina coos. “Let’s crack that baby open. Oh, I brought something, too.” She picks up the bag she dropped at the door and holds it up. “It’s a game. Tic Tac Trivia. A twist on tic-tac-toe. You can’t take a square without correctly answering a question, and all the answers contain x’s or o’s or their phonetic sounds… If I’d known there’d be four of us, I would’ve brought a game we could all play at once.”

Her eyes cut to mine, but only for a second. She meant for us to play it—just me and her.Goddamnit!

“I love Marnie’s games,” Marigold says, taking the bag from her hands.

“Sounds fun,” Gil says, “but won’t you know all the answers?”

She laughs, her hand landing comfortably on his arm and squeezing. “Shhh, you weren’t supposed to think of that.”

“Gil, let’s play first,” Marigold says. “Marnie plays the winner.”

“Sounds good, Marigold,” he says, “but wine first, huh, Marnie?”

“Absolutely! Thanks.”

He snatches the bottle from my hands, brow cocked challengingly. Marigold takes the game to the coffee table, spills the pieces, and sets it up. Marina’s smile falls as soon as they’re gone. She pulls the pink sweater she carried onto her bare shoulders, refusing to look at me.

“Let me explain,” I say, but she cuts me off with a wave.

“What’s to explain?” she asks, fake smiles returning. “You invited me over to set me up with your brother. Two Grady responsibilities handled at once. I get it.”

She brushes by me and heads toward the kitchen, her sneakers tapping against my wood floors.

I slump.Fuck.

When I asked her to dinner, I wanted her herefor me. But the more I thought about it, the less it seemed like a good idea. She assuaged my guilt about the accident, yes, but I carry much more than that, and isn’t it wrong, dragging her into it? She’s all sunshine, and I’m nothing but storm clouds. We don’t fit.Do we?

Even if we do, fears arose over the idea of us. The last time I dated was in college, and there’s been no one since my wife. The idea of loving Marina and then losing her, or, hell, even disappointing her somehow, filled me with apprehension. I don’t trust myself to be the guy she needs and deserves.

Since I couldn’t handle the pressure, I turned our unofficial ‘date’ into a get-together instead.

Besides, I wanted to show her that not everyone expects a family. Gil’s a good guy. Single. He doesn’t want kids. He’s her age, and they went to high school together, giving them a starting point. They liked each other then; they could now. And, yes, she might work wonders on his agoraphobia like she does everything else. Perhaps, subconsciously, I was ticking two items off my list of responsibilities—a shit thing to do.

Now, I’m paying for it. The look on her face crushes me. Doubly painful, I’m hit with unexpected jealousy over her hugging him, touching him. I thought seeing her with Gil would be okay.

Wrong. So fucking wrong.

I should kick them out with a firm‘change of plans’and‘thanks, anyway’and attempt to salvage the night with Marina. But Marigold hates sudden changes in her plans; it took thirty minutes to convince her to postpone Marina’s G&G homework for this instead.

Besides, Marina is pissed—rightly so. And Gil has a rare opportunity to rub my nose in my dumb move, like he did when I called him for this favor.

“You obviously like this woman,” he said then. “Why don’t you date her?”

Unable to explain my insecurities to my little brother, who has his shit to deal with, I said, “It’s dinner. Not a big deal. Would you like a chance or not?”

“Hmm, she’s hot, and you’re an idiot,” he answered. “I’ll be there.”

Now, as Gil pours the wine and Marigold arranges the game, it feels too late to stop it. I tend to dinner, back and forth to the grill outside—at least they’ll get a good meal out of this—while they chat over her game. It must be fun because the room fills with laughter as they play, and she cheers them on.

Waiting for the roasted vegetables to bake, I grab the wine and refill their glasses before getting one for myself. I sit with them in the living room, just as Marigold and Gil’s game ends.

He wins. Marigold stifles her disappointment, moving aside for Marina to take her place. She fake-cracks her knuckles over the rustic board, challenging him with a villainous grin.

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