I leveled her with a look. “I don’t know. I’m kind of in the hospital? Texting about kissing isn’t exactly top priority.”
“Sure it is! Kissing is better than allergic reactions! How was it?”
I couldn’t stop smiling or blushing. “Sweet. And hot. And tender and passionate and just . . .”
Gabi sighed. “I’m still pissed I didn’t get a call about this.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Is there something you want to tell me? About a ride home you got from a certain Russian goalie but haven’t spoken of since?”
She checked her nails. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Except he left my place this morning, narrowly missing my mother. But that’s beside the point! You got a marriage proposal, Mara.”
The monitor next to me beeped. I turned to find a heartrate of 120. I pointed to it. “See? You’re stressing me out. I barely know this guy, Gabi.”
“He seems like a good dude, though. He saved your life. He’s taking care of your kids. It’s just a marriage of convenience. And benefits, it sounds like. It’s not like you’re committing all your days to each other.”
I cocked my head at her. “Yeah, that’s kind of the definition of marriage. This whole idea is just . . . so off-the-wall.”
Gabi put on the smuggest grin. “All the best ideas are.”
A moment of clarity.
I woke up at some point that night sweating through my sheets. Every place where I was hot and sweaty turned itchy. The steroids were supposed to be helping with all that, but I still could have crawled out of my damn skin.
I needed help.
And not just in that moment of bodily discomfort.
I’d been without Bryce for six months. My mom and stepdad were across the country in Georgia, and my dad, well, he couldn’t raise me, so why would I call him for anything? I had no major support network outside of Gabi and her mom, or at least,no one I’d leave my kids with. What if the worst had happened to me? What would happen to my kids? Would they be in foster care? I could barely find Bryce, so I bet the authorities wouldn’t do much better.
I needed a better support system.
Sure, I could make it on my own without a partner. Ideally, I wouldn’t be dependent on anyone to raise my kids. But that wasn’t the situation I was in.
I lost my job. I didn’t have anywhere to slog into Monday morning. I needed to find some way to pay for life, to sustain my family.
Jack could give me that. He offered to give me that, even if we didn’t get married.
But more than the urgent need for money, maybe I didn’t want to do it all alone. The more I shouldered parenting totally on my own, the more I was going to have these high-stress episodes. I thought maybe I’d settle into a more relaxed routine after Bryce left and I got used to it. I thought maybe I’d get everything under control and get a cool post-divorce haircut or refresh my wardrobe to show my transformation.
A haircut wouldn’t help me provide for my kids.
A haircut wouldn’t give my kids stability.
A haircut wouldn’t be a warm body next to me in bed.
Yes, I could hold out for longer. I could try to date with the limited amount of free time I had. I could hold out for love.
But Jack was right now. Jack was well-off. His flaws, well, they were right on the surface. But I could handle those flaws.
And deep down, I didn’t believe him about love. Someone who can’t love you doesn’t cry when you get loaded into an ambulance. Someone who can’t love you doesn’t throw a tantrum because you’re uncomfortable and someone needs to fix it.
That kiss didn’t feel like someone who couldn’t love me. It felt like someone who was already halfway there.
Maybe I was delusional. Maybe it was the antihistamines and the steroids and whatever else they were pumping into my IV, but I felt like Jack would one day love me. It might not be soon. I didn’t love him, but I knew I could. I wanted to at some point.
I didn’t love my mom’s relationship with my stepdad, but I did believe they truly loved each other. Maybe marriage number two was the secret to success.
And who knows? Maybe we’d get married and realize love was never in the cards for either of us. We’d have to devise some sort of exit plan, an expiration date.
