“We don’t live together,” Forest said, for some reason focusing on that part, as if he’d somehow skipped over the getting married aspect. “Not like that.”
“Of course we don’t, but no one knows that, do they? It’s not like they see what’s going on inside our house.”
“Yourhouse. It’s not our house, Nash. It’s yours.”
I shrugged. “Technically, if we were to marry, half of it would be yours.”
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say because he grew even paler. “You can’t do that.”
“It’s California law, honey. Unless we do a prenup, which we could, I suppose.”
He held up both hands. “Stop. Just…stop. You can’t talk about prenups and marital law like that, as if it’s…as if it’s nothing. A joke.”
My jaw tightened. “I promise you I’m not joking. There’s nothing funny about this whole situation.”
“You can’t marry me.”
“Why not? Unless you have a secret husband somewhere I don’t know about, I see absolutely no reason why I can’t.”
“Because it’s… You’re…” He threw up his hands. “You can’t. You can’t save me. It’s not your job, your responsibility. I’m… I’m not your brother, by blood or otherwise.”
No, and thank the gods for that because, otherwise, I’d have to step into the nearest church for some serious confession, considering the dreams and fantasies I’d had about him. Kaelan hadn’t been wrong about that. If Forest were my sibling, all the Hail Marys in the world wouldn’t absolve me from that sin. “You’re my friend.”
“I’m Creek’s little brother.”
Creek. Fuck, if he ever found out, he’d kill me with his bare hands. Not the marrying part. He would understand why I’d done it. No, he’d take issue with me not telling him…and not entirely without reason. “You’re myfriend,” I said again, stressing the word friend this time.
I didn’t care what Kaelan had said about that word not being enough. It would have to be.
“And I don’t want to save you. I want to help you. And it so happens I’m in the position to do that by marrying you.”
“Do you not see how crazy that is? You can’t just go around asking people to marry you.”
“You’re the first one, actually,” I said stiffly, strangely hurt by that comment. Did he really think I would’ve offered this to just anyone? Hell, in my entire life, I had never even consideredmarrying someone. Not until now. “I don’t exactly make a habit out of it.”
He must’ve picked up on something because his expression softened. “It didn’t mean it like that. But it’s… This is clearly an impulsive solution, one you didn’t think through. I appreciate that you’re feeling sorry for me, and?—”
“A quick decision isn’t the same as an impulsive decision.” I didn’t like interrupting people, but he was starting to piss me off with his attempts to make this into something it wasn’t. “Over the course of my career, I’ve learned to make snap decisions, and none of them were impulsive. It’s simply a matter of being good at seeing all the information, coming up with a solution, and then fixing the problem.”
“I’m not a problem you need to?—”
He still wasn’t getting it. “I don’t feel sorry for you. Not in the way you imply. It’s empathy, which is something else entirely. And of course you’re not a problem that needs fixing, but the shitty situation you’re in is.” I leaned forward, meeting his eyes. “You’re free to say no to my proposal. That part is entirely up to you. But don’t insult me by accusing me of impulsive decisions or seeing you as a problem.”
His shoulders sagged, his body growing small. “I didn’t mean to…insult you.”
“I know you didn’t. And I understand that you feel lost and are hurting and scared. I get that. But please, don’t push away the people who want to help you. Like me.”
He was quiet for a long time, emotions playing across his face. “It’s a big thing you’re offering.”
“Not to me. And not because I don’t take marriage seriously, but because it feels like something so little in comparison to what you’re dealing with.”
“Won’t people realize it’s fake?” he asked, then groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Sheesh, I can’t even believe I’m considering this. It’s insane.”
“You could do far worse for a husband.”
His head shot up as if he wasn’t sure I was joking, but when he saw my grin, he rolled his eyes. “What, you’re gonna sell me on your qualities next?”
If he needed a little humor to deal with this, I was all too happy to oblige. “I’m in decent shape, still have all my teeth, and I have a steady job,” I said, checking them off on my fingers. “I don’t think I’m too old for you. I own my own home, and I’m a halfway decent cook. Seriously, I’m what’s considered a catch.”
