Page 146 of Every Chance After

“Really?”

“Of course, but here’s what I think we should do.” He latches onto me again. “Whenever you stay the night, bring something of yours over. And whenever I stay the night with you, I’ll take something when I leave. Seeing your things a little at a time at my place might help ease you into the idea.”

I almost tear up over how sweet and understanding he is. “Kiss me.”

He takes my face in his hands and gives me the kind of kiss that makes me want to take him somewhere—anywhere—right this instant.

“We’ll start tonight,” I say, breathlessly. “I’ll come over for chess.”

His coy grin widens. “Yeah, chess. Perfect.”

CHAPTERFORTY-SIX

Grady

A month earnsme twelve potted plants, her PM CD collection (but not her boom box, oddly), six pieces of wall art (now lining my mantelpiece), three of her favorite coffee mugs, two sets of pajamas, and all of her board games (I took one each time I stayed). Staying at hers has helped me better understand how hard it is for her to leave. Her place is cozy, safe, and unequivocally her from its rescued décor, lively plants, and eclectic everything.

But it also represents her lonely past, and it’s time to move on—a message I tenderly keep pushing. Last week, with my encouragement, she moved all three cats in (one at a time to ensure gentle transitions). Hershey’s still unsure about the dogs, but Sunkist and Triscuit love curling up against Blackbeard’s belly for their many catnaps. And Blackbeard, the least pirate-y dog ever, adores the attention. Merging our lives has gone incredibly well, though awfully slowly.

Now, we’re one week away from Memorial Day weekend, the fate of her job, and her move-out date. And for the first time since I’ve known her, Marina is stressed.

Not about her Mom. Leonie and Tilly moved into the double-wide at The Marshes the same week she handed the payment to Wade. We barely had to lift a finger to move her in. Wade, Christie, and Roy did most of the heavy labor, even helping her score extra furniture. Whether any of them scored romantic points with her remains to be seen.

Leonie has made commendable efforts to reconnect with Marina. From shopping trips to long park walks, Leonie is always ready to spend time with her girls. Marina says she doesn’t just have her mom back; she has the mom she’s always wanted. Tilly has easily warmed up to her big sister, as I knew she would. Marina has spent a lot of one-on-one time getting to know her, and Tilly adores the attention.

She’s not stressed about the G&G, either. Business has steadily picked up. Roy’s delivery idea has paid off; he’s on the road more than he’s at the store now. The old pier has been replaced with a wider one with a railing and bench seats for gator observation. The billboards are up. The Canteen is fully operational. And locals are loving it. Marina posts progress on Instagram daily, quadrupling her followers. Wade complained recently that he barely has time for smoke breaks anymore—that’s how busy it is.

If it’s enough to afford Marina going forward, that’s another story.

I don’t think Marina is stressed about us, either. We are as happy and desperate for each other as we were that first night, with zero signs of change.

But that’s the problem, I think.Change.Everything fell apart the last time she was on the cusp of leaving her place, and the family she thought she could count on abandoned her. If I can show her that’s not happening this time, she’ll relax into our new living situation once and for all.

So, tonight, I have a plan.

She doesn’t arrive with the boxes I hoped for but a single blanket—the quilt of many colors off her bed. “It’s myonlyfamily heirloom,” she explains, hardly setting it down.

“No, it isn’t. What about our chessboard?”

She smirks. “You know what I mean.”

“Anything else? In the truck?”

“Nope. Sorry.” She looks anguished, like this was all she could do.

“That’s okay. This quilt is special to you, so that’s a big step.”

She smiles, relieved. “It is! We could put it on the end of your bed.”

“Ourbed. Good idea.”

She slumps again. “Ourbed. I’m such a… flibbertigibbet.”

“There’s that British TV talking again,” I laugh. “It’s okay. Be as flibberty as you want.”

She curls into me. I kiss the top of her head and hold her close to me. She’s had many moments lately—that’s how I know she’s stressed.

“Thank you, Grady,” she breathes, staring at me. “I love you.”

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