Married by Sunday by Sarah Ready

Author:Sarah Ready [Ready, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781954007277
Publisher: W.W. Crown

19

Nathaniel

* * *

Izzy sits cross-legged on the bed.

We’re positioned face to face and sitting so close that I can smell the lavender shampoo she used earlier this evening in the shower. I try to relax my shoulders, but I can’t. In fact, my whole body is tense.

“You need to relax,” Izzy smirks and shakes her head at me. There’s a load of humor in her eyes.

“I am relaxed.” I roll my shoulders and slump a bit into the cushy bed. “See?”

She scoffs. “Ha. You’re about as relaxed as a virgin in a medieval romance about to be ravished by her muscle-bound warrior lord.”

I picture this cowering virgin and her bulky lord. “I don’t think so.”

Izzy goes to set her hand on my arm and I stiffen. She sends me a pointed look.

I lean forward. “Look. This is one lesson that I don’t need. Like I said, Gertrude and I are compatible in this department.”

Izzy eyes darken and she scowls at me. I get the feeling I just flunked this part of her lesson.

“So, you’re not talking about sex?” I ask.

She smacks her head with her hand. “Of course I’m not talking about sex.” She pins me with an exasperated look. “I’m talking about wooing a woman. Romance. Do you think Raphael stole Gertrude with sex?”

“You said—”

“Sure. They’re going at it like rabbits in springtime.”

I flinch at the description.

“Sorry.” She pats my arm. “But, trust me, Raphael didn’t substitute a handshake with sex upon first meeting Gertrude. Instead, he used the power of touch.”

I try to wrap my head around this. “Okay. Touch.”

She nods. “Touch.”

She bites her lip and looks up at the ceiling, apparently thinking through how she wants to proceed. Finally, she drops her chin and smiles at me.

I lift an eyebrow. “Got it?”

“Sure do.”

She reaches out and grabs my hands.

I hold still, waiting for some magical spark to overwhelm me. I frown down at her fingers holding mine. She’s colder than I am, her hands are soft and delicate, but beyond that the only thing I feel is a bit of happiness lodged in my chest.

“Am I supposed to feel something?” I ask.

She snorts and I look up to see her laughing at me. “No. I’m demonstrating. How often do you hold Gertrude’s hand?”

I shake my head. “Gertrude doesn’t like holding hands, she says it’s childish and pedestrian.”

“Huh. Okay. Hmm.”

I think that for the first time in her life, Izzy is speechless. I’d laugh if she weren’t speechless at my expense.

“Anyway,” she says, pulling herself back together. “Touch is a language. When you hold hands with someone, you’re saying, ‘I like you, we’re together, we’re comfortable.’ See?” She nods down to our hands. I look at her fingers covering my hand.

I guess I see that. “Okay?”

“Now try this. When we entwine our fingers, we’re saying ‘we’re linked, we’re combined, I’m a part of you and you’re a part of me.’ Go ahead.” She squeezes my hand.

I look into her eyes and she gives an encouraging nod. I draw in a slow breath and then thread my fingers with hers.

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