“What do you mean, we have Jaclyn—fuck.” He ran a hand down his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.”
I handed him several of the wine bottles. “Nothing we can do about it now.”
He swung a glance around the drive, concern suddenly etched on his face. “Where’s Gennie?”
“I’m over here,” she called. We spun around to find her in the chicken coop, egg basket hooked on her elbow and eye patch in place. “Those people were noisy and they annoyed the shit out of me.” She snapped her fingers at one of the chickens. “Get away from me, dumbass.”
“Hey, Gen,” he said gently. “This was really hectic and surprising. I’m sorry. Can we talk, kid?”
In the chaos of this morning’s breaking news, I’d lost sight of the fact that this big reveal had probably hit Gennie the hardest. All we’d ever wanted was to protect her and to insulate her from this crazy scheme of ours, but she got tossed into the deep end all the same. Any amount of resentment or hostility I felt over the unexpected announcement of our marriage was replaced with guilt. The last thing she needed was more upheaval and confusion in her life, and—
“I swear, I didn’t tell anyone that you guys got married.”
Noah just stared at her for a second. “What?”
“It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. You don’t have to get mad. Don’t yell. I promise it wasn’t me.”
Noah and I shared yet anotherwhat the fuckglance.
When I could form words without sputtering out a long string ofwhyandhowandwhat, I said, “Let’s go inside and talk. You said you wanted pancakes, right? I can make pancakes.”
Gennie eyed me from inside the coop. “With chocolate chips?”
“Definitely,” I said, enthusiasm cranked up to eleven. To Noah, I whispered, “Please tell me you haven’t banned chocolate chips on account of them not occurring in nature or the disquieting uniformity of their shape.”
He blinked away. “What about a bar of chocolate cut into chunks? Would that work?”
“Oh my god.” I adjusted my hold on the goods in my arms, dangerously close to dropping all of it. “Everyone inside. We’re making breakfast. Let’s go.”
* * *
Now that I’dassigned myself the task of making pancakes, all I had to do was hunt down a recipe and then open each cabinet and drawer in Noah’s kitchen to find everything I needed. Easy peasy. Much easier and much peasier than Noah’s task of sitting Gennie down at the table and getting to the bottom of her little bombshell.
“You are not in trouble and I’m not upset,” Noah said. “I am not yelling. Right? Can we agree on that?”
Instead of answering, Gennie asked, “Was it supposed to be a secret from me?”
He glanced between me and Gennie. I went looking for a mixing bowl.
“So, you see,” he started, “it wasn’t a secret so much as—”
“You guys would make the worst pirates,” she yelled. “You’d never take over any ships or steal any loot.”
Noah sighed. “Okay, well, be that as it may, I’d like to know what tipped you off and—”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” she insisted, her arms folded over her chest and her shoulders bunched up to her ears. “I don’t suck at keeping secrets.”
He dropped his arms to the table. “But how did you know?”
Gennie held up a finger. “You were looking at marriage stuff on your computer, you got dressed up in fancy clothes that one day and when I asked why you were dressed up, you said it was for adult business, and you guys are really obvious with all the love shit.”
“The love shit,” Noah repeated.
I whisked some eggs. I wasn’t sure if that was part of the recipe but it seemed like the right thing to do.
“Yeah, you’re in love and everything,” Gennie said, as if she was stating the obvious. “That’s why you had a sleepover with Shay last night and you’re always doing nice stuff for her.”
He looked up at me, his eyes wide and searching. I kept whisking.
