I want to tell him no, but my eyes are starting to get heavy as he places a glass of water on the bedside table and then turns to leave.
“Why do you think you’re falling in love with me?” I blurt out. I was going to avoid mentioning it because he hasn’t actually said the words to me. But it’s all I can think about. A distraction, I guess, from the pain that sits heavy in my chest at the thought of never seeing Delaney again.
We won’t be at each other’s weddings.
Our children won’t grow up together.
All the things we talked about and planned while drunk in our apartment many years ago. Who am I going to call when I need to vent to someone? It’s always been her. Sebastian works for me, and while I consider him a great friend, he isn’t her, and he never will be. She is irreplaceable. So yes, I will bring up the tough conversations because they’re a distraction. And Arlo is becoming a nice distraction.
“I don’t think…” is all he gives me before he walks out.
I hear him lock the door as he leaves.
And it’s not long before my eyes close, and I pass out.
A week goes by in a blur. I delay all work and attend Delaney’s funeral. Arlo paid for it, and he isn’t aware that I know he did. But someone sent in an anonymous donation to cover all expenses. I’ve kept it to myself, but I know it was him because I saw an email receipt for funds paid to the funeral home flash on his screen when we were at her celebration of life party.
Arlo is sitting across the table from me, and I contemplate telling him I saw it, but I decide not to. We haven’t spoken much about what happened or the fact that he said he was falling in love with me. I sat with that information for days, letting it sink in and warm me from the inside out.
“Thank you for being here for me this week,” I say sincerely as our food is placed in front of us. “And for visiting my mother.” He informed me that he had employed a delivery service to bring her chocolate every other day. I didn’t argue about it, which is so unlike me.
Today is the first day I haven’t cried since that awful day Rylas kidnapped me, and I found out he killed Delaney. My face feels less swollen, and Arlo has been cautious with what he says around me because I’ll burst out crying at the drop of a hat.
“It was no problem.”
We sit in silence for a moment longer before I say, “You no longer wear your beads.” I point to his hands.
“I told you… I no longer need them,” he says, reaching for his drink.
“What do you mean?”
“They were a tool I used to cope with my fucked-up childhood, but I think I’ve moved past that now.” He takes a sip, his eyes never leaving mine.
“That’s a big breakthrough,” I tell him. “What’s the Society?” I ask quietly, after making sure no one is paying us any attention.
“The privilege of that knowledge is held for wives alone.”
“Is that why you said you would marry me?” I question.
“Yes. Wives know what it is, but not its full scope. It wouldn’t be a secret society if you knew all the details.”
“And having outsiders know is wrong?”
“It goes against our rules.”
“Okay.” I leave it at that.
“You can’t mention it to anyone,” he warns.
“What, about marriage? I don’t want to marry you.”
“Ever?”
“I never said that. I mean right now.”
His lips curve into a smirk. “But you’re thinking about it.”
I am, which is so unlike me. I never once even considered marriage to any of the other men I’ve been with. But with Arlo, it’s been on my mind since that night in the woods when he proclaimed he was going to marry me. Not that I think he would do anything against my will, but I’ve never really thought about the man I would be marrying.
