“Daisy.” His voice broke through the fugue. And then his golden eyes. And his warm, strong fingers. “Marry me.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth, just barely able to hold back my heart from climbing out of my throat.
When I looked at Max, there was no reluctance, no regret, no hesitation in his offer, when that was all Todd made me feel. With Max, it wasn’t logic or responsibility that hardened his jaw or clouded his stare. It was something hotter. Heavier. Something that made my chest tighten and my core clench.
Something I shouldn’t have felt for him before, and something I definitely couldn’t afford to feel for him now.
“For five months.” My throat bobbed, the words floating like a buoy of defense at the top of my throat. “Only five months.” Setting the fork down, I extended my hand.
Max looked at it and then back up to me, the heat in his eyes turning to smoke.
“Five months,” he acknowledged and slowly wrapped his big hand around mine, swallowing it whole.
Countless times, he’d touched or held my hand over the last two weeks. Helping me in and out of the truck. Showing me how to unpackage the flowers and arrange them. So many times I’d felt the electric slide of his skin on mine, but never like this. Never like this was the first spark that created the universe.
Our hands shook, and for a second, I imagined him using it to pull me to him. Into his arms. Against his chest. My face up to his.No.
I tugged my hand free and buried it in the oversized T-shirt. “I’ll still stay here,” I blurted awkwardly.
“Of course.” Max pushed his hand back into his pocket. “Nothing else will change. Just the paperwork.”
For health insurance.“When…”
“Monday morning, we’ll go to the courthouse, and then I’ll call our health insurance rep and get you on my plan so you can reschedule your doctor’s appointment.”
“Okay.” I nodded slowly again. “Thank you, Max,” I said, the gratitude like lead on my tongue. I didn’t like the feeling of being grateful for something I could never repay, and how could I ever repay him for this?
Worse, I hated knowing that buried far underneath that gratitude was the ache for something more.
I want to marry you.
Even worse, why did I keep hearing those words as real rather than a remedy?
Dida bride wear white to her fake wedding?
I stared at myself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, my wedding dress only marginally less rumpled for the half hour it hung in the steam-filled room while I showered. It didn’t look the same as it had a little over two weeks ago. Not the way it fit over my changing body, nor the way I saw it after my change in circumstances.
Reaching up, I undid the braids in my hair, running my fingers through the resulting full waves. White was meant for pure and innocent, which I certainly wasn’t. It also signified a new beginning, and that wasn’t this either. This was…a means to an end. Biting my lip, I slid my hands to the zipper on the side. I shouldn’t be wearing white, not when this marriage was a lie. Not a complete lie, but a white lie.
My fingers stilled.A white lie.My arms lowered, feeling a kind of comfort in the thought. That was why I could, should wear white, because this marriage wasn’t a lie. It was true I needed Max’s help, and true that he wanted to help me, and this served both of those things. The omission was that our marriage was for any other reason.
The omission was that we weren’t getting married for love.
I closed my eyes and saw Max’s face when he proposed, staring up at me from his knee on the floor.Wanting to marry me.My breath caught, and I sprang my gaze open. White dress.White lie.I went and walked to the window at the front of the apartment, glancing out the glass just as Max stepped out of his truck below.
He looked up, and I quickly moved away from the window before he saw me watching…waiting.
Was I really going to do this?
My heart beat against the front of my chest, wanting a front-row seat to my decision. My baby kicked, and I steadied myself in my decision, splaying my hands on my stomach.
I know, little sprout. I haven’t even met you yet, but I would do anything for you.
Anything, including marrying my ex-fiancé’s best friend.
I heard Max’s footsteps on the stairs. By now, their sound was synonymous with the beat of my own pulse in my ears.
“Come in,” I called at his knock, looking down at myself once more.
