Page 61 of Enemies to Lobsters
“I’m Googling ‘cognitive dissonance.’ Or maybe it’s straightforward denial.” She looks over my head at Stevie. “Do you think she’s in denial?”
I shove her knee away from me. “I’m not in denial. I know myself. Marriage won’t make me happy, and none of this is real anyway. I am not happily married to Ike, you guys are just bored. This town needs a movie theater.”
Marlow nods. “It’s denial, then.” She drops her phone onto her lap. “Because you’re clearlyveryhappily, genuinely married to Ike—”
Just then, the man himself walks in from the breezeway, and the three of us freeze. When did he come in? Marlow’s mouthhangs open, mid-sentence. Palpable joy radiates off of Stevie, but she’s smart enough to keep it to herself. My face burns at the thought of what Ike must’ve overheard.
He loosens his tie, taking in the three of us lined up on the couch, wide-eyed and silent. The clock ticks a few times. A seagull screeches outside the window.
“I’ll come back later.” He turns.
“No, no! Stay!” Stevie jumps up.
“I was just leaving,” Marlow adds. “Brady has a game.”
“Ugh. You two are ridiculous,” I say as Stevie shoves her feet into her tennis shoes. “You don’t have to leave because Ike’s here.” That makes us look more guilty. We might as well own up to the conversation. “Ike, I know you heard Marlow. They’re ganging up on me. Tell them they’re crazy. Remind them that nothing has changed, and this marriage is only temporary,” I say with a light laugh. Easy breezy. No pressure. Despite what he just heard, I’m offering him an out.
Then why are you heartsick at the thought of him taking it?A gruff voice asks in my head.
Zip your handsome lips, Tom Selleck. I have an ego to protect.
Something changes in Ike's eyes. He chuckles. “She’s right, you guys. Nothing has changed. Same old, same old.” He reaches for his shoulder, then quickly tugs his tie out from his collar instead. He drops it on the coffee table. “We’re doing what needs to be done to save this place.” His mouth forms a tight line, and he sinks onto the cushion Stevie just vacated. He rests his head on the couch. He looks drained.
Marlow snags her purse, hitching it onto her shoulder. “Oh, and that includes flirting with each other? Kissing in the kitchen when you think we aren’t looking?”
“Listen—”
Stevie cuts me off. “I guess the renovation work also includes gravitating to each other every chance you get without realizing it.” She gestures to where we’re sitting inches apart, despite the roomy couch. She salutes obnoxiously, then follows Marlow out the door. “Bye, guys. Enjoy your denial,” she calls from the breezeway.
The exterior door bangs behind them, and Ike and I are alone. He turns his head against the cushion, his brown eyes searching my face. “Hi,” he says, his voice low.
I smile. “Hi.”
“Are you angry with me about the party thing?” he asks gently.
What? Oh, the reception. I was so caught up worrying that he thinks I’m in love with him and deluded into believing this marriage is real, I had almost forgotten. I chuckle. Now that we’re on friendly terms, I appreciate Ike’s candor. It settles issues quickly.
“I’m not mad at you, no. My grandma, on the other hand…” I purse my lips. “Her enthusiasm tends to end up with me in formalwear, feeling like a show horse in an auction.” I’m frowning now.
His chest rises and falls slowly. “Yeah, I don’t know what happened. One minute I was introducing her to my mom, the next she forwarded a list of acceptable tux shops.”
“She always wanted to plan the big wedding for me. I guess I’ll let her.” I turn to face him, leaning my temple against the cushion. I twist my lips to the side, thinking about what a big party means for him. It will be dozens of my grandparents’ friends grilling him about who he is and who his people are, trying to suss out his net worth. “You don’t mind too much?”
“Not a bit,” he says intensely. His gaze drops to my lips then back to my eyes. Lines form between his eyebrows. “Did you forget something?”
“Umm, no? I met the electrician today. We made a plan to move forward with the work before things freeze.” We also made a secret plan I can’t tell Ike about. Then I put in my hours at work. I talked to my Grandma. That’s it. “I don’t think so…”
He taps his lips like he’s thinking. “I think you forgot something.”
I’m wracking my brain over here. Is it his birthday? Oh no. When is Ike’s birthday? Did I miss it?
He taps his lips again, with emphasis this time. “You forgotsomething.” He tips his chin up.
Oh. I feel the corners of my mouth turn up in a half smile. He wants his “welcome home” kiss. I don’t think I’ve missed a day this month, and I’d hate to reset the clock.
“If I keep kissing you, people are going to think you like me, and this whole thing is real.” It’s an immature way to test the waters, but I’m scared. I don’t like the thoughts I had while my friends were interrogating me. I want to know where Ike stands.
He looks at my mouth. “How about this?” He moves close enough that I can feel his warmth. He wraps his big hand around my elbow, pulling me in. “We do whatever we want, and stop caring what anyone thinks,” he grumbles, ducking to cover my lips with his impatiently, like he’s trying to make himself forget that he cares a lot about what people think. No one would sacrifice his time the way he does without wanting to make people happy.
