“Why odd? Aren’t you glad? You’re not cut out for it any more than I am.”
“Am I not?”
“You said you weren’t! You’ve told me several times, at various dramatic moments in various dramatic ways over the past couple of years—including a few moments ago—that you were not suited to marriage. I didn’t think you’d changed your mind quite that quickly, woman or no.” I paused. “Why do you feel odd?”
“I think I feel happy.”
“That we don’t have to. That there are no expectations. That we are what we are.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure I understood exactly what she meant, but didn’t feel like pursuing it any longer. Instead, I held her very close, setting my temple against hers as sea-salted wind ruffled our hair. Like Del, I felt happy. “We’re free, bascha. Both of us. For the first time in a very long time.”
“Free?”
Deep below in the hold, the stud rang a hoof off wood.
Muttering disgust, I buried my face in her hair. “Maybe not everything.”
Delilah, laughing, hugged me, as we sailed into the sunrise.