Page 124 of The False Flat

Grant pulled me over to him and kissed me, his slightly scraggly mustache tickling my nose. How could I ever live without that mustache tickling my nose?

Is love stronger than death?

“I’m going to shave it,” he said.

“Your mustache?” I immediately shook my head. How had he known I was thinking about his mustache? “No.”

“She’s not the same.” He held out a razor. “Henrietta leaves on her own terms.”

I tried to smile but frowned instead.

He shook his head. “I don’t want you crying on my wedding eve.”

“Can I cry tomorrow at your wedding?”

He wrapped his arms around me. “We’ll both cry tomorrow. But tonight, after we shave Henrietta, we make love. Show me again.”

I lifted my shirt, exposing the onggi, the little kimchi fermentation pot I’d had tattooed in the same spot Grant had his blueprint. I’d only been able to hide it from him for two days, and then he kept asking me to see it. It had turned him on even more than I’d hoped.

He groaned. “Needles? For me?”

“Turns out there’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for you, Grant Miles.”

He licked his lips like I was dinner. “On second thought, you might cry from pleasure tonight because I’m going to try something new. New face, new sex—”

Someone knocked lightly on the door.

I looked from the door back to him. “I’m not into threesomes. Unless it’s Jason Statham at that door, and then I’ll think about it.”

He shoved me onto the bed. “No, gross! That’s my sister.”

“Please forget I said anything.”

“Gladly. And for the record, I’m not sharing you with anyone. I texted Deanna, asking her to come in here. I think now’s a good time to have that talk. Get it out of the way before the wedding.”

I nodded. I couldn’t take another “talk,” though, especially if I wasn’t supposed to cry.

He opened the door, and Deanna breezed in, arms crossed. “I’m kinda busy preparing for tomorrow, since snow is forecasted and we’re doing this outside and I need to refine my five backup plans. Snow. Flood. Tornado. This is Tennessee weather, fickle as—”

“Deanna,” Grant interrupted.

“Just remember that as you keep me in here.” Her voice quieted. She knew.

I hurt for her.

“I’ll let you two have a few minutes. I’m taking a shower.” I gave Grant a soft peck on the lips and shut myself in the bathroom, avoiding eye contact with both of them.

“You feeling okay?” I heard Deanna ask, hesitation in her voice.

I tried not to listen, but the door was thin. I removed my makeup with a tissue as their voices floated through, almost as if I were still in the room.

“Couldn’t be better,” Grant replied.

“This was the perfect place for the wedding.”

I pulled off my leggings and reached for the knob inside the wood-framed glass shower, to warm it up before I removed the rest of my clothes. Then I realized my shower cap was still in my bag, beside the bed. I couldn’t shower without it. Tomorrow was my wedding, and humidity was the devil.

I flattened my palms against the slab of wood serving as a vanity and eyed my toothbrush. I’d brush my teeth.