The same man who was vibrating with awe twenty minutes ago suddenly looks like he’s clutching a lifeline as he swivels in his seat, certainty stamped across every line of his face. “Let’s get married.”
My insides lurch. “What?”
“Married,” he repeats calmly, as if he’s asking me to grab coffee instead of rewriting the rest of our lives. His jaw is set, his eyes locked unflinchingly on mine. “We can do it today. Hell, right now.”
His response hangs suspended between us.
For a moment, all I can do is stare at him in shock.
He looks so sure, so steady, like the world just cracked open and he can finally see the future waiting for him inside it. Maybe that’s why my pulse won’t calm, because I can’t see that far ahead without bracing for the fall.
For one reckless moment, I want to melt into the fantasy of it all and believe the man sitting beside me. The one who pressed his forehead to mine while our baby’s heartbeat filled the room, the one who swore I was enough. I want to believe he’s exactly who he says he is, and that this could be safe.
But my mind won’t let me.
My mom once said “forever” was a word people only meant until it stopped being convenient. I’d believed her the day my dad left. And I still believe her now, even though I don’t want to.
My thoughts spiral, dragging me down with them.
A one-night stand turned into multiple stolen nights.
A string of secret hookups became a pregnancy.
The pregnancy forced me into his penthouse.
And now… marriage?
It’s too much.
Too fast.
It’s too dangerous to trust.
I think of Kia this morning, kneeling on cold tile, pale and trembling, whispering that the guy she trusted told her it wasn’t his problem.
Fathers, boyfriends, husbands… they all leave.
My mom knows it.
Callie knows it.
Kia knows it already, and she’s only twenty-two.
What makes Oliver any different?
“Rina.” His tone is coaxing, and it only amplifies the panic bubbling inside me.
“I can’t.” My fingers fumble for the door handle. “I can’t do this right now.”
His brows slam together as confusion flashes in his eyes. “What do you mean, you can’t? I’m trying to do what’s right for you and the baby. For us.”
“That’s the problem!” I’m already halfway out of the car. “You keep rushing into everything like it’s some game you can win if you just move fast enough. But this isn’t hockey, Oliver. This is my life. Our life. And I can’t—” The sob fractures the last of my control. “I can’t breathe.”
The car door slams behind me. He’s out in an instant, circling the Porsche. His hand lifts as if to catch me, but I stumble back, hugging my blazer tight across my chest like armor. I can’t look at him. I can’t risk seeing the hurt in his eyes when I already feel like I’m splintering apart.
Still, I hear the way he exhales, as if I’ve just stolen something vital from him. The sound follows me through the parking garage as I walk away.
My vision blurs as tears well and spill over, streaking down my cheeks. The glass doors of the building loom ahead, distorted through the haze, and all I can think is that I’ve never felt more like I was running for my life.
