Page 64 of Rebound
“You always wanted to get married,” I remind her.
“Yeah, at a classy wedding venue, surrounded by my friends and family, not?—”
“—after drinks roulette on Fremont Street while belting out Mariah Carey at the top of your lungs?” I smirk, the memory of her standing on top of a bar so clear in my mind. I got her down in zero point five seconds, of course. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else looking at her.
Lavinia flinches, clutching her head. “Everything I find out about last night keeps making it worse.”
“Singing Mariah Carey is not that bad,” I say, trying to make her feel better.
I can’t see her eyes, but I’m sure she’s looking at me like I’m crazy. “What about the part where I can’t sing?”
“Who cares? Everyone else was drunk as well.”
Lavinia swings her chair around, reaching out one hand to Jules, who’s sitting a couple of machines down from us. I’m not sure if she can hear our conversation, not that we are talking about anything important. Jules reaches out for Lavinia, their fingers brushing, longing filling both their expressions.
“I’m married to a boy, Jules.”
“Contrary to popular opinion, you’re not a lesbian or bi, so a boy was your only option,” Jules says. “The worst of it is you’re married to this boy.”
“Thanks, Jules, you’re my favorite person, too,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Jules lowers her sunglasses, looking at me over the edge of them. “It’s not me you have to worry about, OfLavinia. It’s the family. Your team captain, whose sister you married in a drunk escapade.”
“OfLavinia?”
“Your existence does not matter to me if you’re not in Lavinia’s life.”
I can’t hold that against her. The question is, does my existence in her life matter to Lavinia? Because I’m about to propose something crazy and I’m not even sure I’m convinced it’s a good idea. It seems good in theory, though convincing Lavinia is not going well. Then again, she did ride my thigh until she came all over me, so maybe a little seduction is what’s needed here.
“Well, Lavinia did call me her best reckless mistake. That guarantees me a permanent spot in her life, doesn’t it?”
Lavinia turns to me, lowering my glasses to the bridge of her nose. I don’t know whether it’s the lights or something else, but her eyes look almost silver. “You’re enjoying this way too much for a man who claims marriage is for people who don’t realize their bad decisions can have legal consequences.”
I did say that, and I still believe it. My parents are only together because they got married before my father made it big and didn’t have the forethought to get my mother to sign a prenup. Even if my mother wakes up one day and decides to leave him, he’s never going to let it happen.
Flexing my hand, I let a pinky finger brush against the edge of Lavinia’s dress where it rests against her thigh. Her skin is soft under my touch and Lavinia shifts slightly but doesn’t pull away.
Her eyes lower to my hand, lashes fanning out across her cheeks. Her lips part on a slow breath, and I want to know what she’s thinking. If she’s feeling this strange connection we have, the one that we’ve always had.
I always felt like I left a part of me in Boston, and it’s never been something I want to examine. But late at night, when the world quiets, and I no longer feel like I can disappear into a crowd and no one will ever notice, I wonder if it’s Lavinia I left behind.
It's never a thought I allow myself to entertain for too long because existing in the same timeline as Lavinia Callahan is hard enough without wondering if she belongs with me.
There’s no way I can be allowed to keep something so beautiful.
“Maybe I thought that way because I didn’t imagine myself marrying you,” I say in a low voice. “Maybe it’s fate.”
Lavinia’s eyes lift to mine, pinning me in place. Every time she looks at me, I feel this tightness in my chest. It’s like when she looks at me, she sees me. It’s not a feeling I’m accustomed to.
“Maybe the fates were drunk, too,” she whispers.
“Do you remember what you said to me last night?” I ask.
“That I’m boring and predictable,” she replies. “Well, not anymore. Now, I’m the girl who gets drunk and married in Vegas.”
“That’s exactly my point.”
Lavinia tilts her head in question. “How so?”
