Free Beautiful to the Bone (The Enuis Trilogy #1) by P.G. Lengsfelder Page A

with you.”
    I hadn’t told him yet. “Okay, but if you liked men.”
    “This is absurd. Damn it!” He slammed his hand on the binder, disproportionately irritated. “They’re all good looking. Whatever you want.”
    I pursed my lips. I could wait him out.
    He saw I wouldn’t be dissuaded. He opened the binder. “Well, I don’t think Cruise is so good looking. Or Pitt.”
    “Why?”
    “Don’t know. I certainly wouldn’t want to have a baby with them.”
    A joke; he actually made a joke. I laughed. His face loosened. “How about the women?” I tapped the photos.
    “Who’s that?”
    “Jennifer Lawrence.”
    “She’s good looking.”
    “Why?”
    “She’s cuddly.”
    “ Cuddly . She looks healthy, so she’s attractive to you?”
    “Yes, sure.”
    “And the others? Who looks healthy?”
    “I’m not crazy about her.” He pointed to Kathleen Turner.
    “Why?”
    “She’s kind of hard looking. We’d end up with kids that looked like Mickey Roarke.”
    “So,” I continued, “black, white, blonde, brunette, hair long or short? None of that factors in?”
    “Not for me.”
    I pulled onto the dirt turnoff and parked the car. “Little Bass Stump.”
    He looked at the surroundings. “It’s pretty. Thanks for getting me out.”
    When he wanted to he could make everything right. I took his hand. We wandered down a narrow path that appeared to dead-end at a dense orange thicket of wild milkweed. I pulled him through and found a secluded sandbar.
    “Take off your clothes. Come swim with me.” I dropped my jeans and peeled off my top.
    “What do you think you’re doing?!”
    “Come on.” I spread my arms.
    He looked around. “Someone will see us. Put your clothes back on.”
    “There’s no one for a half mile or more.”
    A pained look fixed on his face. “Why’d you bring me here?”
    “Swim.”
    “No.” He backed away from the water. “I don’t swim.” His eyes stuttered with panic.
    “Okay, okay,” I said reassuring him, still standing completely naked and trying to control my reaction. “Could you live in New York City?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I want to do that?”
    Suddenly I felt emotionally naked. “To further my research.”
    “Look, I’ve already got a small nest egg. If you get a job in town we’ll be fine.”
    “I don’t want to be fine . I want to be useful.”
    “You’ll be useful to me. Come here.”
    “Harold, I’m serious.” All the pleasure of my discoveries and my surroundings were ebbing away.
    “ I’m serious. We’ve got everything we need here.”
    ***
    On the way home, we said very little. The greenery and the rolling hills had taken on an empty feeling.
    Just before I dropped him off at his apartment, he said, “Eunis?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Can I suggest something?”
    “Of course.”
    “I think you should stop talking to yourself in public. When you start quantifying people especially, it’s kind of embarrassing.”
    “Ah, okay.” I balled my fist in my lap. This was going to be more difficult than I’d imagined. I guess I’d grown used to my privacy.
    “And, I understand.”
    “What?”
    “That you want to stick with your research. I’ll help make that happen.” He took my hand. I wanted to believe him.
    ***
    When I recognized what I was doing — usually because he reminded me — I realized it didn’t sound or look reasonable to talk to myself out loud, although his incessant preaching pissed me off. “What do you suggest?”
    “Journaling, like Dickens.” Apparently unaware of my irritation, he bought me a diary with a burgundy cloth cover and a simple red cedar box to keep it in. He kissed me on the forehead and stroked my hair. Okay, I’d talk to myself on paper.
    Eunis Cloonis —it figures , I wrote in my diary less than four months later when he talked me into moving in with him, an experiment. Even my name will draw unwanted attention if I agree to marry him .
    “As for the living room,” he added,