“Is that how you feel?” Elias asks. “That you shouldn’t get married?”
“No,” I say quickly. “But that’s how you make me feel. And I don’t like it. I love this man—”
“My intentions aren’t to make you have doubts,” Elias says.
“Doubts?” Keller says, and his eyes land on me, a scorching feeling of loaded questions.
I face him. “No, Keller. I don’t have doubts.” I press my hand against my forehead. “How do I explain this? I don’t have doubts, but these meetings make me feel like I should . . .”
I don’t get to finish because Keller stands, and without a word muttered, he moves past me and right out the door.
Fuck.
I stand to chase after him when Elias says, “Princess Lilija.” I glance over my shoulder at him. “Give him space.”
“No,” I answer. “If I give him space, he’ll take too much. Our relationship is already strained thanks to you, and I refuse to let him feel like I have doubts about our marriage, because I don’t.” I move past the door and chase him down the hallway. “Keller, wait.”
He doesn’t stop. He just keeps walking, so I pick up my pace, despite staff members watching us. When I finally reach him, we’re at the staircase that leads up to our rooms. I tug on his hand.
“Stop, please.”
“Not here,” he says under his breath.
And for one of the first times since we became a couple, I listen.
I know this is a moment that I need to walk carefully, and listening to his demands will be what’s best.
In silence, we walk up the stairs, down the hallway, and to my bedroom where we’re offered privacy.
It isn’t until the door is completely shut that I turn to him and say, “Keller, I don’t have doubts. I don’t believe we shouldn’t get married. You have to know that.”
He pushes his hand through his hair. “But it seems that way, doesn’t it?”
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“Hell, Lilly, we couldn’t even do a simple task like read each other’s lips. Doesn’t that say something? Doesn’t all of this say something?”
“No,” I answer in a panic. “It means nothing. They’re just stupid little tasks that don’t make any sense. We pronounce a few things differently because we’re from different countries. It totally makes sense that we couldn’t read each other’s lips. No, it’s like they’re trying to push us past our breaking point—”
“Well, it’s fucking working.” He walks over to the window and rests his hand on the sill, his eyes focused on the outside world. After a few short seconds, he says, “You know, I went into our session today, trying to put on a good show, trying to be positive, but I was met with the inability to communicate with my fiancée. How the hell do you think that makes me feel? I’m supposed to guide us, to protect us, to be the foundation for our relationship, and I can’t even fucking communicate with you.”
“Keller, that’s not true. Look at what we’re doing right now. We’re communicating. After every session, we’ve sat down and talked about it. That says more than some stupid lip-reading game.” I go up to him and place my hands on his back. “I’m just as frustrated as you—”
“I’m not frustrated, Lilly,” he says, pulling away. “I’m angry.” He turns to face me. “Every time we go into that room, I feel more and more inadequate to hold your hand. I know that’s how Elias sees me. That I’m not good enough to be with you.”
“Stop it. That’s not true.”
“I know it’s not true,” he shouts back. “But it doesn’t stop that prick from pointing out every goddamn flaw of mine.”
“Everyone has flaws, Keller. It’s what being a human is all about. No one is perfect.”
“When I’m the guy marrying you . . . I need to be pretty damn perfect.” He moves past me and heads straight for the door.
There he goes, leaving all over again.
It’s the only thing he’s known how to do recently, leave when things get tough. Is that how it will be when we’re married?
Growing angrier by the second, I shout, “Don’t you dare leave this fucking room, Keller.”
