Page 35 of Curious
Dad smiles. “A chip off the old block, eh?”
I shrug. I mean, yeah. My father always has been my hero. He always did step in to fix things when they were wrong.
“When you get better,” Charlie says, “we’ll have to figure out the next project we’ll do for Ad/VICE.”
“Okay,” I say. “Maybe we can get going on the interior of the house.”
“Can I second that?” Shelby asks.
“What’s wrong with it?” Mom asks. She hasn’t been over in a while.
“I tore it down to the studs in a lot of places. I need to put up drywall and redo things.”
“So he’s staying in the pool house with me,” Shelby says, which, again, is somewhere close to true.
“That’s sweet,” Mom says. “Shelby, what have your parents said about your marriage?”
He stiffens and turns red. “Um, I’m not very close to my family, so I haven’t told them yet.”
Mom looks sympathetic. “Well, then you can be a part of ours.” And she skillfully changes the topic of conversation to Reyna’s latest case.
I wonder what Shelby’s relationship with his family is really like—and what his past boyfriends have been like. And whether I’ll ever know him well enough for him to open up about any of that.
We manage to make it through dinner without too much more fuss, and an hour later, I talk Shelby into walking across the street to the Santa Monica Pier.
“But your crutches,” he protests.
“I’m fine. We can sit on a park bench and eat an ice pop. I need to thank you for making it through a meal with my family.”
“I thought they were pretty great,” he says.
“Then, dessert?”
He nods, and we walk across the street.
When we come up to the ice cream stand, I order a lemon pop, and the server asks, “Does your friend want something, too?”
“Actually, he’s my husband,” I say, and Shelby smiles. I tug him to me, and he comes willingly, wrapping his arm around my waist. I nuzzle the top of his head.
She doesn’t bat an eye. When Shelby says he’ll have the same as me, she hands another lemon pop to him. I pay, and he holds both pops as we make our way over to an area with more booths and rides, where we find a bench to sit on and enjoy our goodies before they melt.
“Gotta get used to that,” he says.
“Being called my husband?”
He grins. “Well, that, too. But I was thinking, having someone buy me a popsicle. And, you know, claim me.”
“I’ll fucking claim you,” I say. “I always had to share things as a kid. I like having something—someone—that’s just for me, even if it’s only for a while.”
He smiles. “I like that. I’ll claim you back.”
I want to kiss him for that, but we’re both too sticky from the treats.
“What do you want to do next?” I gesture at the Ferris wheel. “Want to go up?”
Shelby blinks at me. He’s sucking on the popsicle, and it looks kind of phallic.
It startles me that my husband is so fucking attractive. That’s a weird statement, since you’re supposed to be attracted to your spouse. Even in this marriage-of-convenience situation, though, I’m getting more and more attracted to him the more time I spend with him. Go figure.
