Page 46 of Parentmoon

Dallas doesn’t say anything. From the corner of my eye, I see him lower his head.

“When I married, I used the traditional vows.” I’m lost in memory as I stare through grimy glass. “Love, honor, and respect.” I’d requested obey be removed from the initial reading. “To have and to hold. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part.” The collection of phrases sums up what a marriage should be but there was so much more to joining two hearts. Michael’s creativity and desire to write his own promise to his future wife was admirable.

“What would you have done?” I turn to Dallas, realizing too late how insensitive my question is. Would he have written vows to Katherine or gone a traditional route? Dallas was a man of tradition in some ways, as he wanted to walk his daughter down the aisle of a church. Then again, he gave me that speech about his word being his honor. Would he have other words to add to the standard promises?

Dallas turns to me and takes my hands. Rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles, he stares down at his hold on me.

“I’d probably promise something like greeting each morning with goodness and ending each day with appreciation. I’d vow to kiss you every day and night, with hugs and hand holding in between. I’d promise you’d never want in wealth. If I couldn’t give you something, I’d find a way to make it happen. I’d be grateful for you. I’d respect your desire to be individual while wanting to share everything with you as your partner in life. I’d listen to you and talk to you. I’d worry about your health.”

A sorrowful guffaw rumbles up my chest. Is he mocking me and the things I listed the night he propositioned me for sex? When he squeezes my hands, I suppress the sound, noting his tone is earnest.

“I’d love you to the grave, taking the happiness of our time together into the afterlife.”

Once in a lifetime. The phrase rings through my head like bells extolling the celebration of a ceremony.

I swallow around the thickness in my throat. He’s been saying you, but he means it in a proverbial sense, a non-committal manner, a generic you, not a declaration to me. Still, I tremble.

“That was beautiful and special, Dallas.” I choke around his name and the sadness that no one has been committed to me like he’s stated. Then again, his words are only words. Actions speak so much louder.

“Marriage is sacred,” he states, lifting my hands and holding his mouth against the knuckles of my left one. Then he scrapes his teeth against them, dissolving the solemn moment a little. When he lowers our hands, he hooks his pinky with mine and he gives me a sad smile of his own before glancing back at the filthy window. His smallest finger, which is still larger and thicker than any of mine, squeezes once, like a pinky-promise. A non-verbal commitment. An instinctive action.

When he peers back at me, he says, “We should probably get out of here.”

I rattle my head a little, shaking off notions regarding sacred vows and child-like actions that suggest this man could be dedicated and devoted to me.

Chapter 12

“Let’s get out of here today,” Dallas says as we near the house.

Before we exited the broken-down chapel, he’d withdrawn his pinky from mine, and took my elbow to guide me along the path back to the beach. When our feet hit the sand, his last finger hooked with mine once more, swinging my arm a little as we walked.

We didn’t talk again, each lost in our own thoughts. I wish I could read his mind but mine was too muddled, a cross between guilt over Michael and Keli’s situation, and a lingering thrill that wrapped around my heart at Dallas’s mock-vows.

I was ridiculous if I thought he purposefully recited the things I said I needed in a relationship, other than sex. Our current relationship was nothing more than sex.

We are several feet from his house when he makes his suggestion and I glance up at him. My notion feels unkind. Being with him has been so much more than sex. He gave me a romantic dinner the other night. We went dancing last night. I’ve had kisses and touches and done things with him that I’ve never done with anyone. He’s so different from the first impression I had of him.

“So, up for another adventure?” He squeezes my pinky, dropping our connection to open the sliding glass door to the house.

“What did you have in mind?”

“It’s a secret but I promise you’ll like it. Put on your bathing suit and a cover-up for the journey. I’ll grab us some towels and water bottles. We can have lunch where we’ll be going.”

“Okay.” I’m not much for surprises but the fact he has another place he wants to show me makes me a little giddy. Maybe I’m still a little drunk from last night or reveling in those marriage vows he made up. Either way, I dress as Dallas requested.

When I’m finished, I send a text to my son while I stand in the kitchen, waiting on Dallas.

Thinking of you today. Call me if you need me.

The idea my son doesn’t need me shouldn’t hurt. If I’ve done my job as a parent, he should be a capable adult. Still, I hate to think of him alone while I’m gallivanting around a beautiful tropical island . . . on his honeymoon.

Two warm hands cover my shoulders and rub down my bare arms. “He’ll call you. Maybe not today, but he’ll call.”

“I feel guilty that I’m enjoying myself here when he should be in my place on his honeymoon.”

Dallas presses a kiss to my shoulder. “It’s your parentmoon.”

“But they didn’t get married.” I stare down at the phone in my hand. The message screen remains open to the unanswered texts I’ve sent him.