I don’t know if she realizes she’s doing it, but she’s offering the same compassion I gave her. Or maybe she does because she understands what it’s like to race an invisible clock to protect everything you built.
The difference is that she’s losing hers due to circumstances beyond her control, and mine is my fault.
I nod.
“There’s no shame in grieving them, Aiden.” She says it again, and my heart clenches.
Two years, and some days it feels like it happened yesterday. I’ve been stumbling, trying to find meaning without their daily orbit—checking in, arguing about nothing, being us. Things I took for granted every single day.
All gone.
And now the thing that held us together might be yanked away, too.
“You’ll lose the farm if you don’t get this money?” she asks, bringing me back to the present.
I somehow manage a croaky answer. “Yes.”
It feels selfish to ask her this, especially when there’s still so much to clear through as far as “we” go. To involve Phoebe.
But I’m out of road to navigate.
“How long would we need to stay married?”
“Chloe—” I sit up, but her hand stays on my back. The look in her eyes stops me, green and steady. “You don’t have to do this for me.”
“Would you please answer my question?”
The guilt is almost unbearable. Saying it out loud didn’t help. I think I might actually feel worse.
“A year. There’s a lump sum once we file the marriage certificate, then monthly payments until the one-year mark.”
“A year,” she repeats quietly.
“This is insane.” I push to my feet. “Saying all of this out loud is different than reading the terms. I can’t believe we’re even talking about it.”
She completely ignores me.
“And if something happens and we don’t make it a year?”
I turn, a little stunned. “It’s gone. No do-over. Once I marry, it’s a year or game over. If I don’t marry, the state gets my farm. Those are my options.”
“That’s an incredibly difficult place to be, Aiden.”
And then she’s on her feet with her hand on my back again, rubbing in a steady motion that I’m pretty sure is the only thing keeping me together.
“It’s an impossible place,” I say.
She steps around me, her eyes locking onto mine. The connection is unmistakable. Underneath, something else ripples—something I shut off a long time ago.
“Do you mind if I sleep on it?” She pulls her hand back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “All of it?”
“You’re actually considering this.” My voice is flat with shock. She hasn’t once asked what she gets out of it.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think so.”
“I never should’ve brought it up.” I shake my head. “I’m asking too much.”
“Remember how you said you reserve the right to decide how to spend your time? That means I’m allowed to decide when someone’s asking too much of me. Or if I’d like to marry them to solve a life-altering problem.”
