Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
When my soul has reentered my body, I roll off Marnie and lie next to her, motionless. When I’m finally capable, I head to the bathroom to take a piss and grab some tissues for Marnie to wipe herself up. When I return to the bed and hand Marnie the tissues, she says, “I was worried you were gonna say no.”
“To what?”
“Sex.”
I laugh and slide into bed. “I would have come to your door myself if I didn’t think suggesting sex would get me stabbed.”
“My horniness would have won out over my urge to kill you. Actually, my urge to kill you would have made it even hotter.”
“Hotter than what we just did? Impossible.”
I pull her to me, thinking we’ll cuddle for a bit and maybe even have sex again, but Marnie sits up and pats my arm. “I think I’ll shower and get back into bed with Ripley. I don’t want to risk falling asleep here with you. I wouldn’t want Ripley to discover us sleeping together in the morning.”
My heart sinks. She’s right, obviously. But I can’t help wishing she could stay. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“Good night, Maxy-Milly,” she whispers. “Sleep tight.”
“You, too.”
She pecks my lips and slides out of bed but stops walking when I whisper her name.
“You were incredible today,” I say, when she turns to look at me. “I was in awe of you, Marnie.”
“It was a team effort.” With that, she blows me a kiss, winks, and slips quietly out of the room.
When she’s gone, I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. Why does my stomach hurt right now? I should be feeling nothing but euphoria, and yet, I feel a pit in my stomach like I’ve fucked something up. Made a wrong turn. Am I incapable of feeling truly satisfied? If I can’t feel full satisfaction now, after accomplishing the goal I set for myself in law school, then when will I ever feel it? Am I doomed to feel eternally incomplete?
I roll onto my side in a huff, but my new position doesn’t fix the problem. I’ve messed up. Am I feeling guilty for lying to Mr. and Mrs. Walters today? Yeah, that’s definitely part of it. A big part. It seemed like a great idea at the time, but now that I’ve looked into the man’s eyes and told my lies and made him think I’m the kind of man who got down on bended knee before Marnie, the same way he got down on bended knee before his own wife, I’m feeling guilty about my little ruse. My lies. Let’s call them what they were.
And yet . . .
As bad as I feel about that, I don’t think the fraud I’ve perpetrated on Wayne Walters is the main source of this nagging feeling. I think it’s more related to Marnie in this moment. I loved seeing that ring on her finger today and knowing it means she’s all mine. At least, at family camp. I loved introducing her as my fiancée today. And, man, did I love watching Ripley racing around the opening party like the top of her head was going to pop clean off from glee.
But all of that is situational, right? I couldn’t rationally expect those feelings to continue back home, especially now that I’m moving. I need to remember Marnie and Ripley will be living in Seattle when we get back, while I’ll be living in California. Even if I wanted to try to be the man Marnie seriously dates when camp is over, how could I swing that? I couldn’t. That’s the only conceivable answer to that question. It wouldn’t work. To suggest otherwise would be pure lunacy.
I lie awake with my racing thoughts for at least another hour. But finally, blessedly, at some point, sleep comes for me, and with it, the promise of a new day with a fresh start, and hopefully, the absence of the nagging thoughts currently swirling inside my head—the ones making me feel like a gigantic piece of shit.
28
MARNIE
As Max twirls me around the dance floor, I throw my head back and laugh from the depths of my soul. It’s the last night of family camp, and we’re having a blast at an old-fashioned country fair, complete with rides, games, and a live band that’s been pumping out country-music standards for our dancing and listening pleasure. I’m not a big fan of country music, generally, but even I’ve been able to recognize and enjoy every smash hit on the band’s play list.
As the song ends, Max dips me, making me giggle—and when he returns me to an upright position, I throw my arms around his neck, buzzing with the desire to kiss him. Max and I agreed not to lock lips whenever Ripley might see, but following that rule feels like a tall order in this euphoric moment. In fact, after a week of daily fun and nightly sex and all-around family bonding with Max, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to give him a smooch at a happy moment like this. Somehow, though, I force myself to give Max a peck on his cheek, same as always, before breaking free of his strong embrace.