Page 47 of Enemies to Lobsters
“Stevie was right about you. You’re a big oaf.” She’s teasing, but her voice is still a little too quiet. A few seconds pass, then she asks, “What helps with Boone? What should I have done differently?”
An ache forms deep in my chest at her questions. “You did great.”
She snorts. “Come on.”
“No, really. That’s just Boone. It takes time for him to warm up to people. Same as it was with you.” I pull her hand to my mouth, kissing the back of it and holding it against my thigh.
“Nice, Ike.” She bumps my shoulder.
“What? It’s true. It took you forever to warm up to me, but look at us now.” I pull her hand back up to mouth, making monster sounds as I pretend to nibble the back of it. “Now you’re mine. I’m going to steal you, marry you, and carry you away to a deserted island with me,” I tease.
She takes her hand away. “Ugh. Youarean oaf.”
I throw the truck into park. We’re a short walk from our house. The place where we sleep under the same roof. My heart is galloping. I need to be… not alone with her, and I’m not ready for this night to end.
“Want to go for a walk? Do some beachcombing?” It’s a nice night, and since the tide is coming in later and later, we have time.
Diana nods, following me out of the truck. There’s a rocky stretch of beach with hard-packed pebbles near the shore. Taking her hand, I move in that direction and remind myself to walk slowly. I want to drag out this time with her, and I want her to see this place the way I see it. I’m desperate for Diana to love living here as much as I do, but I’m not going to examine that.
It’s just so perfect here. The lights of Cape Georgeana bounce off the water, and a few stars are starting to blink in the lavender sky. Even the waves are calm tonight, barely lapping against the rocks. Tiny, twinkling fireflies flicker in the trees near the shore. See? Perfection.
I squeeze her hand, enjoying the happy swing of our armsbetween us while we make our way down the beach. This is contentment. Things are going well with the lighthouse. The townsfolk are appeased for the time being. The Red Sox are killing it this season. I get to live with this knockout woman. I let out a long sigh, basking in this moment of peace before Muffie Horowitz finds a squirrel in her chimney or something.
Diana’s soft voice breaks through my thoughts. “What are you smiling about?”
Am I smiling? I guess so. “I’m content. The lighthouse is coming along, work is going well, and I get to be here. With you.” I shrug. “Life is good.”
“Hmm.” She clings to my arm with her other hand, moving closer. “I like to hear that.” She leans her head on my shoulder as we walk.
Do not scoop her up,I remind myself because everything inside me is screaming to scoop her into my arms and kiss her. Instead, I start a normal, adult conversation to keep myself in check. “How about you? Is life good?”
Her head is still on my shoulder, so I can’t see her face, but I can feel her thinking deeply. I don’t know how. The air changes. She’s still hanging onto my arm with both hands, and I don’t hate it. She can think and hang onto me as long as she wants.
“Life is good,” she finally concludes. Then she lets out a long sigh of her own. “I think.”
I chuckle. Not the reassuring words a man wants to hear from his wife. “Youthink?”
Another long exhale, then the dam breaks. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. One, look at the lighthouse. It’s making progress, sure. But the first thing I see is that we need to finish the exterior lights. It’s too dim. The flagpole needs a light. So I made a mental list of people I need to call to get that done. Then I was thinking about you.” She clutches my arm.
“And?” I like where this is headed—unless she wants to repair me, too.
“I think too deeply and too far ahead to just enjoy this time with you. Like, we’re both super attracted to each other, right?” Before I have a chance to agree, she’s moving on. “But we’re married and living together. Where do we draw the lines? What’s okay, and what’s not? What are we doing?” She’s walking faster now. “And I’m also thinking about Louise and Boone and how Boone hates me like everyone else.” She lets out one last,long breath. She’s almost winded after that rant. “So… yeah. Life is good.”
I listen to the ocean for a few seconds, considering how I’ll respond. She’s right. The lighthouse needs more exterior lighting, and we’ve put ourselves into an awkward pickle getting married before we had our first date. Boone doesn’t hate her, though. “Okay, let me get one thing out of the way first. Boone doesn’t hate you.” I stop, turning to face her and taking in all of her details—the dark brown waves resting on her shoulders, the shape of her in that dress. She’s perfect. But there’s a little too much red lipstick on those lips. I can take care of that, but first: “Diana.”
She blinks up at me, waiting.
“I’ve never been one to advocate for this, but…” I trail off at the sight of her arched eyebrow. No, I’m right about this. I’m going to say it. “Have you considered… thinking less?”
Something about my delivery must’ve landed just right, because Diana is cackling. It starts with a delicate snort and turns into a deep, belly laugh that echoes off the rocks. While I’m wondering whether I might’ve pushed her over the edge, Diana tangles her arms around my neck. Her laughter slows, and she’s breathless, hugging me like I pulled her out of flood water in a hurricane. I run my hands up and down her back while I wait.
“Stevie and Marlow always say the same thing,” she says with a slanted smile. “But you were thinking a lot, too. What’s the difference?”
I can tell she doesn’t want an answer to that question, so I let her words hang in the air. My phone buzzes in my pocket. When I pull it out to silence it, my heart jumps. It’s my mom.
I haven’t heard from either of my parents in weeks, which has worked out great. I can’t hide anything from them, and I have no desire to tell them I made a mockery of the institution by marrying Diana York for money. No, thanks. I’m not ready. Iswipe to ignore the call and slide the phone back into my pocket. It immediately starts buzzing again.
“Do you want to get that?”
