Page 154 of Every Chance After

“Keep staring at me like that, and we won’t finish the show,” he says, keeping his eyes on the fireworks overhead.

I giggle. “Fireworks, eh. Who needs them?”

Then, he pulls me into his arms for our own fireworks.

Epilogue

Valentine’s Day, Next Year.

GRADY

It’s barely 5 a.m.,still dark, and an early-morning chill beckons me back to sleep. I roll to my side with a bothered sigh—Marina’s not here. As scheduled, my alarm sounds as I rise from our bed and flip on the bedside lamp. I intended to get up before her. But a late emergency call kept me out, and she’s been relentlessly busy with work lately.

We’ve shared our home for nine months. We’ve brilliantly navigated the major holidays, her mom’s first (and so far only) semi-episode, Tilly’s flu (which she generously shared with the rest of the family), a break-in at the G&G (Uncle Jim’s still investigating), Roy’s eccentric new girlfriend (yes, he has a girlfriend), and Sunkist’s impacted hairball. Marina’s taken it all in stride with her signature bounce and optimism. Hell, even with the flu and a raging fever, I could barely keep her in bed—she wanted to be up, working on her next game or filling her next store revitalization plan notebook. Still, even being sick and stuck at home together was fun.

Butfunhas faded behind forced smiles lately. I suspect I know why, but she’s not saying. She denies there’s anything wrong at all.

I know her best, though. I know she gets nervous whenever she’s scheduled to meet a new client. I know she can’t handle scary movies.At all.I know she obsesses over her plants and even talks to them. She doesn’t know I know that, but I overheard her one day—adorable. I know strong storms freak her out, and British TV mellows her. I know she prefers showering with me rather than without me, and often can’t sleep if I’m not beside her. I know she loves our life together. She’s brought beauty and energy to my minimalist cabin—it’s almost greener inside than it is outside now. Sitting on our dock or back porch together is her favorite thing to do. And she’s taken quite a shine to Blackbeard (he follows her around the house like he’s in love with her). He’ll even jump between us on the couch and lay his head in her lap—commandeering my spot beside her is the most pirate-y thing he’s ever done. I know that despite her sunshine persona, Marina’s a surprising introvert. She craves time to herself, and, especially, time with me.

Lately, though, she’s practiced avoidance, reminding me of myself before her. She claims that it’s a tough client keeping her distracted.

I know better.

At Christmas, my brother Colin announced that he and Tamsyn were expecting their third child. A month later, at our family game night, Luke’s wife, Willow, said they were pregnant, too. Both times came the inevitable well-meaning but insensitive backlash.

“You’re next, Marnie!”

“Can’t wait to plan your baby shower.”

“You’ll get your turn!”

“You’ll make such a great mom.”

I was about to tell them to fuck off, but she stopped me. “Wouldn’t that be something?” has become her typical response.

I tried talking to her afterward, and she said it didn’t bother her. But I doubt that’s true. Not because either of us needs a child to feel complete—we don’t. But it’s the expectation that’s frustrating. An expectation that surely puts stress on her shoulders and, at least, makes her uncomfortable in situations like that. What is she supposed to do? Ruin everyone’s celebration with the truth?

Nah. Marina’s too kind for that.

More than that, though, I wonder if those awful feelings of inadequacy embedded by society and reinforced by the Sullivans have snaked their way back into her head. Does she feel like something’s missing? I remember (vaguely) what it was like to be in my twenties. You think you can do anything, and most of the time, it’s true. A story that diverges from the typical plot lines might feel like less of a story, even though it isn’t, especially when everyone around you follows the same formula.

I need to know how she feels about our next chapters.

And today’s her birthday. Valentine’s Day. The anniversary of the day her mom left her. And one year ago today,thatday. She believes this day is cursed, and it’s my first opportunity to prove her wrong.

She leans over the kitchen table, notebook and supplies spread. Her long red hair is piled into a messy ponytail on her head. Coffee wafts in the air, and the warm glow of a desk lamp heightens the coffee-shop vibe. Hershey perches on the table, as if reading over her work. Sunkist swirls around her legs. The dogs sleep around the fireplace, Triscuit curled into Blackbeard’s belly.

Quietly, I slip behind her, melding myself to her soft curves and kissing her neck. She breathes in sharply before relaxing, and I can feel her smiling without seeing it.

“Good morning,” she says.

“I missed you in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She twists in my arms, and her coffee lips melt against mine. Her arms dangle over my shoulders, pulling me closer. I don’t care how many times I see her smile or she holds me close, loving Marina Ann Strange will always be my absolute favorite thing.

“Happy birth?—”

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