“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss it later.”
A dark thought enters my mind. Growing up, I never felt safe. Not until I left home. My father’s anger and pressure kept me on edge. My brother was the other half of that dull blade.
I want to say that Cateline makes me feel safe, but that’s not entirely true. I feel dangerous. Like I might do something crazy, like I could ask her to actually marry me. To spend a lifetime with her. To treat her like a queen. Like my bride. She brings everything I hid deep inside to the surface in the form of feelings I rarely, if ever, let myself feel. The kind that burn so good in my chest.
My eyes pinch at the corners as I say goodbye to that part of my life because I sense now, finally, it’s really about to begin.
25
CATELINE
After the nightmare at Connor’s family cabin, I half expect him to peel out of the driveway—if it could be called that—and drive aggressively back the way we came.
Instead, he’s quiet, pensive, and ponderous, like he had a breakthrough and only now realizes that behind every cloudy day, the sun still shines somewhere up there in the sky. That the truth is more powerful than lies, silence, or fear.
The way he glances at me makes me warm all over. Like I’m some ray of light. A revelation. I have clouds of my own that I hide behind, namely, my citizenship situation. Why didn’t I get it taken care of, knowing I’ll have to return to France—the place I fled?
Cain reminded me of a barbarian that I once knew. I gave up my career in professional ballet to pursue a college degree. It was the logical and safe choice—and not only because a degree would secure me a 401k. No, Gaston had become possessive, demanding, and dangerous.
I shudder a breath, which breaks the seal on the silence in the Jeep.
“Did you hear the crowd go wild with applause?” Connor asks.
“What are you talking about?”
“Cat, you scored a touchdown.”
“Remember, I don’t play games.”
“Not until you told Cain that you’re my fiancée.” His grin isn’t wolfish. No, it’s something else that I can’t quite define.
“That was because your brother was being—” I look at Connor, now understanding why he is the way he is. Or was. He’s changing before my eyes. He seems lighter, more genuine. Like he’s been dropping baggage left and right.
Connor takes my hand and rubs my grandmother’s ring. “I’ll get you a bigger, better ring. Promise.”
“I don’t need another ring because we’re not really getting married. I can’t marry a student.”
“But the ring is on your finger.”
“The wrong finger. Good save, by the way,” I add.
“See, we’re on the same team.”
I’m about to respond, but pause on his words about being on a team. At different times in my life, I’ve desired marriage, a partnership, a covenant with someone. But I never met the right person. My thoughts poke me sharply in the ribs.
Like with the visa, I ignore them.
“This ring was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me when I was eighteen. I think it was so I had something to barter if I got into trouble. She knew I was leaving. Or perhaps she knew I’d always be single.” Then I realize I’ve shared this out loud. My throat thickens.
I’ve said too much. Gone too far out of my safe zone. Maybe I have been playing a game. Perhaps I am on a team. Team Connor-line? Catnor?
“You’re not single anymore,” he says.
“We’re not really engaged.”
“We are for the next twenty-four hours. Cain’s wedding is tomorrow.” Connor turns to me when we pause at a stop sign. “I cannot begin to imagine who he possibly convinced to marry him.”
“I rarely speak ill of people, but I agree. Though perhaps he’s different around her. People change,” I say pointedly.
