Page 85 of Married to Number 22
Then answers, which is even better. “It’s World History. I like Mr. Crenshaw’s stories about Ancient Egypt.”
I nod sagely. “Objectively the best part of World History.”
“Exactly.”
Our gazes lock and I hold my breath—the flicker in her eyes has grown, emotions I can’t read swirling in the rich brown depths. Maybe she’ll take the permanent bed? The job?
But she doesn’t speak.
Just glances back down to her book.
And, deflated, I follow a heartbeat later.
We read in silence for long moments, the draw of the teenage angst slightly tempered.
This girl deserves more, deserves?—
“What was your favorite subject in school?”
My fingers tighten on my book at the quiet question, hope and frustration, rage and softness all tangled together.
I want to push her to open up.
I want to demand she take action to make herself safe.
I know that will get me nowhere.
So, I go back to our usual—humor.
“Back in the Stone Age?”
“I thought it was the Bronze Age?” She giggles.
“PE,” I say after I’ve soaked up the joyous sound of her laughter. “Followed closely by science.”
“Probably why you married the hockey player,” she mutters, flipping to the next page in her book.
“No,” I tell her baldly, knowing that no matter how complicated the circumstance of my marriage are, she needs to hear this, she needs to understand that her reality isn’t the only future that exists. And maybe…I need to remind myself of it too. “I married Aiden because I’ve been in love with him since I was thirteen and he’s the one person in my life who’s never let me down.”
She closes her book and sets it to the side. “Really?”
“Really.” My heart is pounding. It’s the truth, but it’s a big one, a scary one. Still, I nod at her, closing my book too. “We lost touch for a bit when he went off to play professionally, but now that we’ve both been in the same city, we reunited. And…it’s the same—he always was my best friend, the one person who saw me as me. He’s all of that and more now too.”
“What about your Grams?” she asks, her eyes going a bit suspicious. “I thought you two were close.”
“We were. So close that I still miss her every day.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “But the truth is that while Grams loved me and Ireallyloved her, neither of us were perfect and sometimes”—like, say, with the whole get married to get her shares thing—“I think that her past influencedmyfuture far too much.”
Bri is quiet for a moment.
Then says with far too much certainty, “I can see how that could happen.”
“Yeah,” I tell her softly. “I know you do.”
We’re quiet for a long moment.
Those flickers in her eyes growing, filling the brown depths, softening them.
So, I take a chance to ask, “Do you want me to tell Marissa you’ll think about the bed and the job?”
