“Then you're together. Just get married and take that old bastard's money while you keep figuring it out. And if one day you decide you don't want to be married anymore, divorce is easy nowadays. Of course, I would recommend a prenup.”
I can't bring myself to be offended by a fictional prenup in a fictional wedding that will never happen to my captor.
I turn to go, but Cal's hand on my arm stops me and has me turning back to face him. He looks uncharacteristically nervous.
“It's fine.” I shake my head at him.
But he swallows, licking his lips. “Do you... want to?”
“Want to...?”
Cal looks like he's in physical pain. “I mean, we could…”
“Jesus.” Dex mutters. “This is painful.”
Cal turns to glare at him, leaving me to look between them, bewildered.
“Man the fuck up and ask her.” Dex rolls his eyes.
The realization dawns on me slowly. My heart slows and falters, skipping a beat. When Cal turns back to me, there's a determination in him that's so vastly different from his earlier hesitation that I don't understand what just happened. I feel dizzy.
“Marry me.” Cal says. “Dex is right. I... I love you, and we're already living together. Marry me.”
I want to laugh because it's absurd. You don't marry someone because you’re already living together. You marry them because you can't imagine life without them. Because you want to build a future together, because the thought of living without them is painful.
“Marry me.” Cal repeats. “And if you're not happy in six months, then we call it quits. You can have half of everything and go do whatever you want with your life.”
This time, I do laugh. I can't help it.
“You're a killer.” I shake my head. “You bought me tokillme. How do I know I'll be alive in six months?”
“I'd never kill you.” He sounds offended by the insinuation. “Not now that I know you. Not now that I love you.”
The problem with Cal’s love is the same problem I have with love. He’s thrown it around a few times, but I don’t think he ever really learned what love was. The people who were meant to teach me weren’t a part of my life, and theones who were meant to teach Cal may have done more damage than not by their presence. I don’t think Cal knows how to love, and I don’t know how to receive it.
And yet, the offer as presented seems like a legitimate solution to all of our issues.
Six months.
I've already been with him for three.
Six months isn't much at all, not when we're still trying to decide what this thing is between us.
In six months, we could have it figured out.
Or I could be dead.
32
Amber
A double date with my captor and his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend, who was also a former victim of my captor that I’ve developed Stockholm syndrome for, was absolutelynoton my bingo card for this year… or ever.
But neither was this.
Cal gifted me the dress that didn’t even have a tag, assuring me it was one of a kind and custom-made, the jewelry that practically drips off of me, and the stilettos.
I've never worn those a day in my life, but it's not quite the hell I imagined. Being short probably works in my favor there, since my center of gravity is lower... though you wouldn't know it in these shoes. They're fucking gorgeous, just like everything about Cal's home, his life, and him.
