Page 86 of Beautiful Small Things

“Whatever,” she says, effectively dismissing me. “See you later.”

Orion walks down the hallway from his room in a daze and stops when he sees me standing in the middle of the living room.

“Hey, Purple Rain,” he says, greeting me with a hug that makes butterflies dance in my stomach. “What do you want to do today?”

“I thought maybe we could walk on the beach if you have time?”

His face softens into a genuine smile. “I’d love that.”

We make the short drive to the beach. It’s a foggy morning, which is typical this time of year. It should burn off soon.

“So, why are we beachcombing on this foggy summer day,” he asks as we start down the beach.

“I just wanted to see you,” I shrug. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m so bad at this.

He pulls me into his body by the waist. “That’s sweet.”

“It’s not entirely truthful,” I admit.

“No?” He asks, with no surprise in his voice.

“The way to lie effectively,” I inform him, “is to add a shred of truth so that you can sell the lie with your own belief in it.”

“How do you even know that?” He asks.

“Advanced psychology,” I shrug.

“For school?”

“For fun.”

“Of course,”he says with a shake of his head.

“So what is going on? The truth.”

I sigh heavily and wind his arm in mine. “I want you to be my boyfriend. It’s probably not cool or how this is done, but it’s the truth.”

Orion stops and faces me, taking both of my hands in his own.

“I think it’s very cool,” He smiles before leaning forward and kissing me softly. “And my answer is yes.”

I’m momentarily shocked by two very distinct things. The first is how amazing his warm, full lips felt pressed against mine. The second is how it didn’t feel strange. Not even a little bit.

I have a boyfriend. Orion is my boyfriend. And we’re going to keep trying that kissing stuff. Because, damn.

Chapter thirty-four

Home

Marcus

I get home with a sack full of groceries and a beautiful bunch of flowers an hour before she’s due home. Iris is out doing something with Orion, and I gave Bea the day off. My plan is to have a nice dinner ready for when she arrives, but as I pull into the driveway, I see her car.

I’m so excited to see my wife that I fumble with the contents in my arms as I enter through the front door. There, sitting on a stool at the counter is James. She’s looking at something on her phone and looks up to meet my eyes with a wide smile.

She’s as beautiful now as she was when she was twenty. Maybe more so. Beauty in youth is a gift, a genetic luck of the draw, but beauty in age is curated through hard work. I could stare at what James has curated for hours on end.

She jumps off her stool and runs at me at full speed, causing me to drop the bags on the ground so I can catch her.