Page 7 of Wilder’s Mistake

Lucy’s face tightens. “This isn’t funny, Nora.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“We got married at a really cheesy wedding chapel with neon lights.”

Nora laughs harder. “Seriously, you guys. I leave you two alone for one night.”

“I thought you might be angry.”

“I’m not angry. I’m amazed it took this much tequila.”

Lucy goes quiet. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing I’m explaining while I’m about to board a plane.”

Nora then looks at me. “And why do you look so calm?”

“Panicking won’t change it.”

Her eyes narrow with amusement. “Right.”

“Right what?” Lucy asks, looking from me to my sister.

“You two can work that out yourselves. I’m on my honeymoon.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Lucy says.

“Immensely.” Nora smiles. “Call me when you know what you’re doing.” Then she ends the call.

Lucy stares at the dark screen. “That went better than expected.”

“Nora likes you more than she likes me.”

“That is not comforting.”

At the airport, Lucy keeps turning the cheap ring around her finger while we wait for security. The rhinestone catches on the strap of her carry-on. She frees it with an irritated tug and leaves it where it is.

“You could take it off,” I say.

“I know.” She glances at the gaudy stone but doesn’t take it off. The security line moves forward, and so does she, still wearing it. I don’t smile. She would hear victory in it, and this is not a game I want to win by pressure. The ring stays because she puts it there. That matters more than letting half the airport see it.

The flight carries us toward everything waiting at home. Lucy sits beside me, close enough that our knees practically touch. Halfway over Kansas, turbulence jolts the cabin and her hand closes around my forearm. I cover it with mine until the plane steadies.

“You never seem worried about anything,” she says later.

“Plenty worries me.”

“The marriage?”

“Not that.”

She studies my face. “You aren’t normal.”

“Never claimed to be.”

She falls asleep against my shoulder. I stay still for the rest of the flight, even though my arm goes numb. Her hand stays warm on my thigh.

Her laptop bag rests beneath the seat, packed with the work she brought despite taking two days off. Lucy does not drift through her own life. She built every part of it, and I know better than to mistake marrying me for permission to pull it apart. That’s the part I have to prove. Wanting her is easy. Making room for the woman she already is will decide whether she stays.