Page 120 of Wicked Pickle

His arms clasp me against him. The water flows down us both, trying to fill gaps, but failing to find any inroads as we’re pressed so tightly together.

We’re one steady rock, fused at the core, and no force of nature can come between us.

Except it can’t last. And even as he shuts off the shower and carries me to the bedroom, the air conditioning chilly to our wet bodies, I know the truth.

He’s going to leave. This is all I’m going to get.

And I will live for every moment.

We’ll make it unforgettable.

CHAPTER 38

DIESEL

Merrick bangs on the door an hour later. “Caden has to do number two!” he shouts. “He won’t do it in a port-a-potty.”

I glance over at Symphony. “Time’s up, I guess.”

She nods. We dress quickly and let in the crew. Caden races to the bathroom, and Merrick and Greta sit on the sofa near the door.

Symphony stands awkwardly by the television. I’m not sure what to say to her. Merrick and I have made our decision about shutting down the bar, and we’re not ones for circling back.

The plan is to enlist, although we’ll probably have a delay to make sure Greta is handled.

“Symphony, stay,” Greta says. “You’ve been so kind.”

But I can tell Symphony’s head is already out the door. “I have to get back. Tomorrow, I have class and my second day on the new job.”

Greta crosses the room to give her a hug. It’s an odd feeling in my gut, seeing a member of my family friendly with a woman in my life. It’s never happened, other than maybe a prom picture in high school. I never was a long-term gig for anybody.

Not this time, either. The six weeks since she showed up at my bar for a bachelorette have been the biggest stretch with a single person, well, ever.

But Merrick and I are moving on.

“Good luck with everything,” Symphony says to my sister. Then she opens the door and slips out.

Something in me revolts. I want to stop her, drag her back in here, change my mind.

But I clench my jaw and ride it out. I only realize Merrick and Greta are looking at me when I finally get out of my head and glance their way.

“Hard to go when it matters,” Greta says. “It’s only easy when you know you have to get out.”

I’m not here for platitudes. I clap my hands together. “What’s the plan? Take Greta to our house?”

“And then ditch her while we enlist?” Merrick shakes his head.

“She can keep the truck.”

“And buy food with what?” Merrick asks.

Greta drops onto the sofa next to my brother. “I’m right here. And Merrick is right. There’s no staying away forever. I have to deal with this. I just wanted to do it with you two rather than the ‘Pickles are Pickles’ crowd.”

I sit on a chair, elbows on my knees, hands clasped. “What do you want? Hide out until the divorce is final? Have us escort you back to Jersey and kick his sorry ass out of your house so you can move back?”

Caden comes out, and Greta bends over to open a small suitcase. She packed light. “Caden, go take a shower to get the sand off and put on these.” She passes him a set of clothes.

“Do I have to?” His whine is so Jude-like that it sets my teeth on edge.

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