Chapter Twenty-One

Jen

 

On Lynn’s advice, we got a private marriage license—something only California offered and the way to keep our personal information out of the public record. Beth and Jake had also used the confidential option, as with a public license, anyone for any reason could look up the couple’s full names, dates and places of birth, parents’ full names, and any previous marriages.

Great for genealogists, scary for people in the public eye.

With that done in the morning, I blurted out the thing I’d been mulling on since last night. “We need an appointment with the realtor.”

Dylan’s gradual slowing at a red light came to an abrupt stop. “Uh. Today?”

“ASAP.”

“O…kay… Why?”

“I don’t want to be looking for our permanent place with a newborn.”

“I thought you wanted to be in Big Bear.”

I dragged my hands through my hair. “I do, but there’s no perfect option. It’s fine now, but you’re leaving in April, and then no one’s leaving me heavily pregnant on the mountain, so I’m staying with Mom or Beth or Hannah and I want a nursery.”

“So the problem is being alone.”

I chewed on my lip. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Someone honked behind us and he rolled through the green light.

“So someone stays with you.”

I gave him the you’re crazy look. “For two months?”

He threw his hands up. “I don’t know, Jen! I’ve tried to accommodate your every whim on this issue and you’re not making it easy.”

Adrenalin coursed through me from his raised voice, making my pulse thump. “Sorry for thinking about your child.”

“Don’t.”

“You know what, you already made me a deal—wedding in exchange for my cabin—so never mind.” I wanted out of this truck and this atmosphere.

Thank God he was heading back to his apartment.

The silence was oppressive.

Then he said, “I don’t want to start our marriage with this…contention.”

I sighed. “It’s temporary.”

“This disagreement…or us?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not. I don’t know what’s hormones and what’s you. I’m not blind. I know you don’t want to be pregnant right now.”

My gaze shot to him. “You don’t have a clue if you think I don’t want this baby. It’s the timing that’s stressful.”

“The tour overlap—”

“Look, there’s nothing we can do about it, so there’s no sense in arguing. I’m sorry I spoke.”

He sighed. “I don’t want you to lie about your feelings.”

“I’m not. We have to accept the imperfect.”

“How romantic,” he said sarcastically.

“Fairytales end on happily ever after. They don’t cover what comes after the kiss or the wedding or the grand rescue. They don’t tell you the prince snores or Cinderella eats crackers in bed or Sleeping Beauty couldn’t produce an heir or Ariel and Eric’s backgrounds were just too different and they only stayed married for the sake of the children and the kingdoms.”

“Yeah, yeah, real life is messy.”

“Roll your eyes all you want as long as you give me space to freak out now and then over all these changes happening in a very short window.”

He parked the truck. “Fine. When—how—do I know you’re venting versus me needing to fix it?”

“I—”

“You have biological drives? So do men, and I’m not talking about fucking and fighting. Most of us have an urge to fix shit, especially for people we love. I can’t turn that off any more than you can stop crying at Hallmark commercials.”

“One commercial.”

“Whatever.” He grabbed my hand. “Babe, I’m trying to roll with the punches. Isn’t it obvious I’ve been trying to make you happy all week?”

“Dylan, I don’t need that all the time. Sometimes I need your strength and sometimes I need you to be scared with me.”

He cupped my cheek. “I’m just another duck on the pond.”

“You’re quoting The Replacements now?”

“I love that movie.”

I leaned into his touch. “I know.”

He kissed the hand he held. “Fighting with you twists my gut in a knot. Can we get through the end of this year without doing more of it?”

I laughed. “We’re putting together a wedding in a week and a half. I can’t promise you that.”

“Pfft. I don’t mean bickering. I mean having part of me fear those words are the end.”

I folded my legs under me so I could crawl over and hug him. “My heart races so hard in that moment. Lee and I fought a lot.” I stroked my fingers through his hair. “But you know the difference?”

“What?”

“We just fought. It never fixed or resolved anything. You and I had never had a big argument before recently, so I worried about whether our fight styles would be compatible, but we’re working shit out. The emotion bubbles over and then we keep talking.” My turn to caress his face. “As long as we keep doing that, there is no end.”

He closed the distance between our faces and kissed me. I sighed and tilted my head to deepen contact. He threaded his fingers into my hair. His lips were soft and he kissed so sweet I might cry. It reminded me of the first time. He caressed my lips with his tongue, enticing me to dance and play, teasing and retreating. The familiar ache built in my core.

“And then we get make-up sex.”

He released his seatbelt. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

I giggled at his eagerness. We hurried upstairs and inside his apartment.

And didn’t make it past the nearest blank wall.