Page 63 of Britta & the Beach Boy
Finally, I jut out my hand. “It’s a deal.”
Dex’s gaze drops to my hand, then back to my face. His eyes meet mine. In the distance, I hear waves crashing. The smell of the ocean permeates everything, and I’m reminded of the taste of Dex’s lips.
He slides his hand in mine, slowly. His fingertips brush my palm, then my wrist. He doesn’t shake my hand. He holds it, like he did last night—the last time we touched. Tenderly. Protectively.
“Deal.” The word comes out as a whisper, but he keeps hold of my hand. The feeling of security that accompanies his touch is both comforting and terrifying. Suddenly, his soft expression transforms into wide-eyed horror. “I don’t have a ring.”
The breath I’d been holding comes out as a laugh. “It’s okay. We can figure that out later.”
He exhales and releases my hand. “Right. Rings can wait.”
“You’ll need a place to live, too,” Archie offers without taking his eyes from his laptop.
“Together?” Dex and I say at the same time.
Archie sends both of us a look that can only be interpreted as a silentduh.“Everything has to be airtight if we’re going to convince officials that this marriage isn’t just about Dex fast-tracking the immigration process.”
I hadn’t really thought throughwhereI’d have my bedroom and bathroom when I wrote up our contract. My only thought was to include every contingency.
“I sorta thought we’d keep things the way they are until Britta has to move out of her unit. Then she could move in here.” Dex rakes his hand through his hair, clutching a handful.
“Into our two-bedroom apartment?” Archie asks.
“We’re hardly ever here.” His hair stands up where he’s pulled at it, and he reminds me of Bear when he was a toddler. Completely clueless.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” Archie goes back to his laptop.
“I need my room and bathroom,” I say carefully. “It’s in the contract.”
Archie stops typing long enough to send me an exasperated look. “You realize that contract isn’t legally binding, right?” Hewaits for me to answer, but I don’t appreciate his tone, so I don’t say anything. “You’ll have your own space,” he finally relents.
With that, I leave so I’ll have some privacy when I break the news to my dad that I’m getting married.
Stella is waiting at the door for me when I walk in. “Well?”
“I’m getting married tomorrow.” I walk past her, ignoring her pleas for details. If I don’t call Dad now, I’ll chicken out. Then he’ll find out from the news, my brothers, or some other source, and it will break his heart.
He answers on the first ring. Of course. The one time he doesn’t have to search for his phone is the one time I could use a few more seconds to breathe.
“Britta! Is everything okay, honey? I wasn’t expecting another call from you today.” The worry in his voice doesn’t give me any time to beat around the bush.
“Everything’s fine, Dad. I have some news to tell you, but it’s good news.” I hope he thinks so, but I decide to play it up more because he’s going to take a lot of convincing. “Really, really good news.”
“We can use some good news around here, but hold on a minute…” His phone goes quiet.
“Dad? Are you still there?”
“I’m here, just walking to the kitchen.” His voice is muffled, and there’s a lot of background noise.
“Dad, I can barely hear you.”
“Almost there.” Silence again. Except for the blood pounding in my ears.
The number one thing I don’t miss about Paradise is the terrible reception and dropped calls. Every time the line goes quiet, my pulse fills in the absence by thumping hard.
As soon as I hear Dad again, I say, “When I tell you this news, I need you to trust me. I really am happy, and it’s the best thing for me right now.”
My phone buzzes. Dad is trying to FaceTime me. I sigh and accept the call. Then his face pops up in front of me, which doesn’t make it easier to deliver my news.
