Finally, her sobs quiet to hiccups, and she pulls back to look at me. Her eyes are red and swollen, her face blotchy from crying. And yet, somehow, she’s still impossibly beautiful to me.
“What if—” Annie takes a slow breath. “What if we make his plan impossible?"
I frown. "What do you mean?"
"His whole revenge is built on forcing me to marry him. On making me his wife so that Ronan has to live with the knowledge that his enemy owns his sister." She looks at me with those clear blue eyes. "But he can't marry me if I'm already married to someone else." She looks at Diego, who is standing there holding the priest by his arm, patiently waiting for my instructions as the man blubbers and protests. I haven’t heard a word of it.
Understanding crashes into me, and I stare at her. "Annie?—"
"Think about it, Elio. It's the perfect solution. If I'm already someone's wife, Desmond's plan falls apart completely. He can't force me into a marriage that can't legally exist. He can still try to get to me, try to hurt me—but he can’t do what he really wants.”
"You can't just marry some random person?—"
"I'm not talking about some random person." She cups my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. "I'm talking about you. I want you to marry me, Elio."
20
ELIO
Istare at Annie, feeling as if she’s just asked me to jump off of a cliff, trying to process what she’s just said.
I stare at her, trying to process what she just said.
“Marry you,” I repeat slowly.
“Yes.” Her voice is steadier now, more certain, as if she’s convincing herself that this is the best possible plan. "Marry me. Make me your wife. Protect me in a way that Desmond can’t undo."
"Annie, this is—you can't just—marriage is supposed to be permanent. If we do this, if we…" I stammer, fighting every instinct in me that wants her. That wantsthis—that has, for eleven years.
“It doesn’t have to be permanent,” she says quickly, and the words hit me like a physical blow. “Once Desmond is dead, once this is all over, we can get divorced—whatever we need to do. Ronan never even has to know it happened.”
Ronan never has to know.
She thinks this can be temporary. That we can just undo it like it never happened. That I can marry her—the woman I'veloved since we were sixteen—and then walk away like it meant nothing.
"Annie—"
"Please, Elio." She looks up at me, her bright blue eyes pleading, that fear starting to leach into her expression again. "I know it's insane. I know I'm asking too much. But I don't know what else to do. If I go to Ronan, it’ll tear him apart. Desmond will try to kill him to get to me, or threaten his family, or…” She sucks in a shaky breath. “And if I run, Desmond will hunt me down. But if I'm married to someone else—to you—his entire plan falls apart. He might still try to come after me, but he can’t force me to?—"
She's right. Desmond’s revenge hinges on him being able to marry her, to force her into a consummated union that, by the laws of our families, can’t be undone and would make going after him an act of war.
The same applies to our marriage, if I do this. It’ll make it harder for Desmond to come after her, afterme. She’ll be another man’s wife, adon’swife. I don’t think that will stop him entirely, but the one thing he won’t be able to do is force her to say vows and force her into his bed that way—legally.
He can’t make her his.
But I could make her mine.
The thought sends a wave of heat through me that I quickly suppress. This isn't about what I want. This is about keeping her safe.
"You're talking about a legal marriage," I say slowly, trying not to think about how this makes me feel. How torn up inside I am right now from being handed what I want… but not the way I wanted it in the slightest. "You want me to actually marry you."
"Yes," she confirms. "It has to be real enough that Desmond can't claim it's fake or invalid. A priest, a license. We have to be married in reality."
"And then we just divorce," I say flatly. "When this is over."
"Yes." She says it so easily, like it's simple. Like marrying me and then leaving me won't destroy her like it will me. I don’t know if that’s what she really feels, or if she’s just saying this so I’ll agree—if she thinks a temporary marriage is what I would want. And we don’t have time to hash it out right now. "It'll be temporary. A solution to a problem. You said yourself that you'd do anything to protect me."
I stand up slowly and turn away from her, running my hands through my hair, trying to think. Trying to see past the want, past the desperate desire to say yes to anything she asks of me.
