Yours Truly (Part of Your World #2)

Would you punch me in the face for one billion dollars?” Briana asked.

We were at the VFW in Wakan. It was nine p.m., and we’d been here for a few hours after dinner at Jane’s, the little diner on Main Street. We’d spent the day wandering the town, going to antique stores, getting ice cream, checking out the farmers’ market. We were sitting in a booth at the back of the bar with Alexis and Daniel.

Briana waited for my answer like this was a serious question.

“If we were married,” she said again, “and someone offered you a billion dollars to punch me in the face, as hard as you could, with my permission, would you do it?”

“No,” I said. “I would not punch you in the face.”

Her eyes got wide. “You’d better punch me in the face, Maddox. I’d punch you in the face.”

“For a billion dollars I’d actually be okay with that,” I said.

She gasped. “Oh, so you can get punched in the face, but I can’t? That is so sexist.”

“It is not the same thing,” I said. “I’m stronger than you. I could shatter your jaw.”

“And I couldn’t shatter your jaw? This is one billion dollars we’re talking about. Xfinity needs to go to college.”

I barked out a laugh.

“Who’s Xfinity?” Daniel asked over his beer, looking back and forth between us.

“Our fictional, traumatized daughter whose name was chosen so we could get free internet.” She looked back at me. “Tell me you’d punch me in the face, Jacob.”

I looked at her, amused. “I thought we were supposed to be harmless to each other.”

“You being the only reason why I’m not a billionaire is not being harmless to me. That harms me greatly.”

I shook my head. “I can’t hurt you. I’d pay one billion dollars not to hurt you.”

She gave me a small, reluctant smile.

Doug made his way over to the table with a guitar in his hand.

Briana rolled her eyes. “Doug, do you know what the definition of insanity is?” she asked, raising her voice so he could hear her before he got to the table.

He looked indignant. “This isn’t for you,” he said, holding up his guitar. “You had your chance.”

Briana snorted.

“There’s fresh meat over at the bar.” He nodded to a pair of women drinking beers.

Briana craned her neck to look at them. “Oh. Well, make sure you call them meat to their faces. Women like that.”

Doug seemed to think this over. “That’s a good idea. I’ll do that. Thanks.”

Everyone laughed.

Doug nodded to Daniel. “Hey, spot me twenty bucks, yeah?”

Daniel dug in his wallet and pulled out a bill.

“Thanks,” Doug said, taking it and shoving it into his shirt pocket. “Wish me luck.” And he left.

“He’s gonna need a lot more than luck,” Briana said.

“You’re never getting that twenty back—you know that, right?” Alexis said to her husband.

“I do,” Daniel said into his beer. “But at least those poor women will get free drinks.”

Briana shook her head. “That guy has more red flags than a matador.”

Alexis laughed.

Briana turned to me. “Want to walk back? I am here to relax and make fun of Doug, and I am all out of Doug.”

“We’ll probably stay for a bit,” Alexis said, rubbing her belly. “The house is unlocked, you can just go in.”

I put money on the table, and we slid out of the booth and started for the door. I wanted to leave, but not because I wanted to go. I wanted to be alone with Briana.

I was having a good time. Briana had said if I got overwhelmed at any point today, we could go, which helped a lot.

When I was a kid, Mom would always try to gently coax me into new activities. She’d never force me. But she’d tell me that if I went to the birthday party or the field trip, or the day camp, she’d wait in the car outside, and if I wanted to leave before it was over, I could. Most of the time I’d have fun and I’d end up staying. And then after a while she didn’t need to wait at all. It was knowing that leaving was an option that gave me the courage to try.

Briana was the same kind of safety net. And I bet she didn’t even realize how much it changed the outcome for me.

Amy had always thrown me into things with both hands, and then couldn’t understand why I was anxious and withdrawn and wanted to leave the second whatever it was began. But with Briana I felt slowly submerged. Gently set down. And then once I was in, I was comfortable. I felt like everyone else probably felt. Calm and easy and normal. It protected the shelf life of my internal battery. And I don’t even think this was a conscious thing for her most of the time. I think she just inherently knew to do it.

It was just one of the many amazing things about her.

We came out into the warm early June air and started for the house. I had to fight the urge to take her hand.

Touching her in public was second nature to me now. But that’s because most of the time we were in public, one of my family members was there, and touching was necessary to hold up our façade. We didn’t have that here. Daniel and Alexis knew about our arrangement, so I didn’t have an excuse to put a hand on her back, or brush her hair off her face, or sit close enough that my leg pressed into hers. It was the only thing I hated about being in Wakan.

I’d suggested taking a picture for Instagram earlier for the sole reason of getting the hug that I couldn’t get when I arrived. And then I didn’t want that hug to end. I wished we could have shut the door and stayed in that bed. I wanted to hibernate with her. Forget the rest of the world existed.

I squinted at something large standing under a light post across the street. “Is that…a pig?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “That’s Kevin Bacon. He’s Doug’s. He’s like the town mascot or something. He just runs around and takes selfies with tourists.”

He was huge. At least three hundred pounds, and wearing a reflective vest.

“Can we pet it?” I asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

We crossed the street and the pig grunted at us as we came up. He was enormous and pink. I crouched and ran a hand over his head and he snuffled around us, looking for food. He found the mints I had in my pocket and I pulled them out and unwrapped them and let him eat them from my hand.

His vest had a Kevin Bacon hashtag and a Venmo on it.

“I have to give it to Doug, he is a hustler,” Briana said, eyeing the Venmo. “Doug would punch me in the face for a billion dollars.”

“Then I’d have to punch Doug in the face for free.”

She gawked at me trying to look serious, but she was fighting a laugh. “You’re punching the wrong person. I’m the billion-dollar punch—though I do understand the impulse to punch Doug for nothing. But still.”

I chuckled, petting Kevin’s wiry fur.

“No, but seriously,” she said. “We need to get on the same page with this.”

I shook my head. “I’m not doing it. I’m not punching my wife.”

“Nick would do it.”

“Well, it sounds like there’s a lot of things that Nick was okay doing to you that I would never do.”

She bobbed her head. “Okay, good point.”

“And why is the money that important?” I said, standing. “You make a good living. You don’t need a billion dollars.”

She looked up at me. “Jacob, I grew up poor. Extremely, extremely poor. Like, food-instability poor. No matter how much I have, I will never turn down the means to never live like that again.”

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t realize your childhood was that tough.”

She shrugged, looking at the pig. “It was. I mean, it was good. But it was hard. I had to start working at a pretty young age to help my mom. She used to clean houses, back before she got her nursing degree, and I’d go and help her.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten? Eleven?”

God. I couldn’t imagine working that young.

“It was better for Benny,” she said. “By the time he was ten, Mom had a good-paying job and I was working at Starbucks and waiting on tables. I’m glad he had it easier.”

I was glad he did too. But I hated that she’d struggled.

I would do anything to keep her from struggling.

We made our way onto the bike path that led back to the house. The moon was out. We were walking under some trees along the river, and I slowed a bit so it would take longer. When we got home, she’d probably go to bed, and then I wouldn’t see her until tomorrow.

“So where was your dad in all this?” I asked.

She breathed in through her nose. “Gone. My parents divorced when my mom was pregnant with Benny. I haven’t seen my dad in almost thirty years.”

“Where is he?”

She shrugged. “Back in El Salvador? I don’t really know. I don’t care. I think he has like, a whole other family. Anyway, Mom always had more than one job until she started nursing. Then she got hired by these rich white people when their grandma got too old to live alone. They trusted her. Mom took care of that lady for six years. She was really good at it. When the lady died, she left my mom some money. Mom used it to help put me through school and buy the house we’d been renting. The one I’m in now.” She looked at me as we walked. “Anyone who says money isn’t everything has never had to live without it.”

We walked for a moment in silence.

“Well, I still wouldn’t punch you in the face,” I said. “But I would work hard enough so you’d always have everything you need. I’d go hungry so you could eat.”

She gave me an amused look. “I wouldn’t let you go hungry for me,” she said.

“I know. That’s why I’d never tell you.”

“You wouldn’t tell me?”

“The truest sacrifices are the ones no one knows anything about.”

She paused. “Jacob, you are too pure for this earth.”

I laughed a little.

She glanced over at me with a small smile. “You know, I actually believe that you’d do that, and most of the time when men say valiant things, I don’t.”

I looked down at the paved path. She had no idea the things I would do for her.

“Given this backstory, I’m a little surprised that it was me and not you naming our kid Xfinity to save money,” I said.

“I would gladly sacrifice myself, but I’d never sacrifice my kid,” she said. “The whole point is to give them a better life than the one you had.”

“She could have a good life named Xfinity.”

“Yeah, but maybe she’d have a great life named something normal, like Ava.”

I smiled. “Okay,” I said, glancing at her. “We’ll name her Ava.”

She twisted her lips into a smile. “Good. Ava Xfinity—Ortiz. I’m not taking a man’s last name, and I’m not letting my kids do it either.”

“You didn’t take Nick’s last name?” I asked, glancing at her.

“I did. And then I had to change it back. When Mom got married, she took my dad’s last name too, and then she had to change it when he left, which meant she changed my last name also, which was of course her dad’s last name. I’ve had three different last names in my lifetime and it’s all been to carry on some stupid patriarchal tradition. I will never do it again.”

I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll take your last name, then.”

She laughed, but I wasn’t kidding. I glanced at her. “You know, if you really wanted to show Amy, we could drag this on a little longer. Maybe say we’re engaged. Get married. Have a few kids.”

Live happily ever after…

“Ha. Don’t tempt me. I’m petty and I love a long con.”

I chuckled. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out and checked the screen. Jill.

“Hold on, I have to take this. Jill?” I said, answering the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Wakan. With Briana. Why?”

“I’m at your house.”

I grinned. “Hold on.” I put the phone on speaker. “Okay. Can you repeat that?”

“Uh, I’m at your house?”

I looked at Briana. “So what you’re saying is, you’ve come to my home unannounced and uninvited to see me at a very late hour.”

“Uh, yeah. Why? I do it all the time. I need to borrow your bread maker.”

I gave Briana an I-told-you-so look.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” I said.

“Ugh. Fine. Also, Jane left a bag of coffee on your porch. Tell Briana I said hi.”

I hung up with her and smirked at Briana. “Jill says hi.”

“You bake your own bread?” she asked.

“Really? That’s what you took from that phone call?”

“Okay, I get it,” she said. “They come over a lot and you’re worried they’ll find out I’m not living there. I’ll just come over a lot too.”

“And if they poke around?”

“Why would they poke around?”

“Because they’re nosy and bored and they lack boundaries.”

“So I’ll leave stuff there. I’ll put a box of tampons under the sink. Leave a bra draped over a chair.”

I shook my head. “Not good enough.”

“Jaaacob,” she whined. “I can’t stay at your house. I’d feel horrible.”

“Why?”

“Because you like your alone time.”

“No I don’t,” I said quickly—too quickly. I cleared my throat. “I roomed with Zander for almost six years. I don’t mind living with someone.” The right someone…“I think letting my family see us living together is a good idea,” I said.

She glanced at me. “You do?”

“Yeah. It means we’re serious. I never lived with Amy.”

She pulled her face back. “You didn’t? Why not?”

“Because being around her that much wore me out,” I said.

“And being with me that much wouldn’t wear you out?” She gave me a look that called bullshit. “We work the same shift. We’d literally be together twenty-four/seven.”

I know. “If I’m being completely honest, it would not wear me out to have you with me that much,” I said.

“You’re just saying that so I don’t feel bad that I’ve pigeonholed you into either living with me or explaining to your family why the living-together thing didn’t work out.”

“I’m saying that to you because it’s true.”

She went quiet for a moment. “Have you talked to Amy recently?” she asked.

That was an odd question. “I talked to her for a bit yesterday at the luau.”

“Oh yeah? When?”

“When I went inside,” I said.

She nodded at the trail. “What’d you guys talk about?”

I let a long breath out through my nose. “It was an argument, actually.”

“About what?”

I paused. “Old stuff.” You. “It was nothing.”

I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to tell Briana that Amy didn’t believe Briana wanted me—because she didn’t. I didn’t want to bring up the irony of Amy’s accusation.

When I didn’t go on, Briana did. “She was probably jealous.”

I scoffed. “She wasn’t.”

“Trust me, she was. She probably thought you were gonna pine over her for the rest of your life and now you’ve got some new girlfriend who’s obsessed with you and she can’t handle it.”

I had to look away from her. Because Briana being obsessed with me was so far from the truth it hurt to think about it.

“I think she’s still in love with you,” she said.

I let out an incredulous noise. “She’s not.”

“Yeah, she is. I deeply dislike her,” she said.

“Don’t dislike her.”

She went quiet next to me.

“How did it make you feel?” she asked after a moment. “The fight?”

I thought about how I wanted to reply. I decided on the truth. “Like shit.”

She didn’t respond. But she did reach over and thread her fingers in mine. My heart leapt at the unexpected touch. The heat of it radiated through my entire body.

She squeezed my hand and leaned into my arm until I looked down at her.

“I’m sorry someone made you feel like it’s hard to love you,” she said.

My chest got tight. She peered at me with so much earnestness I wanted to stop right then and there and kiss her.

But this wasn’t love in her eyes. This was pity. Or comradery. Or friendship. It was like the hug she gave me the other day. It was meant to comfort me. That’s all.

I knew this, and it didn’t change a thing. I still wanted to kiss her.

I was my own greatest enemy now. Because I knew how this ended and wouldn’t lift a finger to save myself. I couldn’t.

I didn’t have to come here today. I could have put up walls between us and stayed home. We didn’t need to keep spending so much time together outside work or family events. But how could I give away even a moment of seeing her and talking to her? I couldn’t justify it.

I would have come no matter where she was, or what she was doing. I would have met her at a party. Or a busy bar or a nightclub. My desire to see her overrode my own self-preservation instincts—in more ways than one.

We got to the house and she let go of my arm. I opened the front door to let Lieutenant Dan and Hunter out to go to the bathroom and we stood on the porch waiting for them.

“Hey,” I said as we watched the dogs sniffing the lawn. “You left your sweater in my truck last night. I brought it.”

“Oh, thanks. Can I get it now? I was actually looking for that.”

“Sure.”

We left the dogs outside. Lieutenant Dan wouldn’t run away. He was too treat-motivated to do anything other than come back in once he did what he had to do.

We came up to my room and I dug in my duffel bag for the sweater while she waited by the hope chest.

I’d kept the sweater next to me on the seat on the drive over so I could hold it to my nose. It smelled like her. I wished I could keep it.

If she lived with me, things like this would be everywhere, all the time. Her shampoo would be in my shower. She’d use my coffee mugs. Her toothbrush would be next to mine on the sink.

I wanted these mundane things so badly I couldn’t even stand it. I’d never wanted this much of Amy. Amy was right when she’d pointed it out. I spent so much time pushing her away, keeping her at arm’s length. But I chased Briana. I wanted to make my life desirable to her so she’d want to be a part of it. I was buying a sofa for the living room because that day she came over she said you couldn’t Netflix and chill in the recliners. I knew there was less than a one percent chance Briana would ever cuddle with me on a couch—but I wanted to have the couch just in case.

If I was being honest, what I really wanted to do with her wasn’t in the living room at all.

I wanted to push her down on my bed in that red dress from the luau and play out every scenario I’d imagined over the last few weeks. Wanted to pull off her underwear, slide her dress up over her hips, bury my face between her legs…

I had to shake it off.

It felt disrespectful. Like I was violating her just by thinking about it. And I’d been thinking about it a lot. I couldn’t help it.

A heavy gust of wind rolled through the drapes, and the door to my room slammed shut.

Briana jumped. “Oh my God, that scared me,” she said with a hand on her chest.

It must have been a back draft. Maybe Alexis and Daniel just came in the front door?

I pulled out the sweater and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said.

Then we just stood there. The door was closed. The lights were dim.

It was just us and a bed.

It felt like the end of a date. An amazing one where the chemistry was off the charts and you wanted to invite them in to stay the night because their leaving felt premature and wrong.

This was the kind of date that never ended. It turned into breakfast the next morning and then dinner the following night and then finally after so many sleepovers you just move in with each other because being together is so organic that doing anything else would be ridiculous.

Her leaving this room felt ridiculous.

I had to remind myself that she wasn’t feeling what I was. She didn’t feel the chemistry. She didn’t feel any attraction to me or attachment to me.

She was doing a job.

If she’d said yes to that date, I would have poured everything into it. I would have treated that opportunity like a once-in-a-lifetime gift. It would have been precious to me, the chance. I never would have worked harder for anything in my life than I would the tiny possibility of convincing her to consider me an option.

But I’d made my interest known, and she’d made her disinterest clear.

And that was that.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

I slipped my hands into my pockets. “Good night.”

I watched her walk to the door like I was watching the wrong ending of a movie I loved and knew by heart.

But when she went to let herself out, the door was stuck shut.