“It does,” I argued. “Legally, it makes perfect sense. You’d get stability. I’d keep my inheritance. We’d both benefit.”
He stared at me like I’d grown antlers.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” he muttered.
“Believe it,” I said. “Because I’m serious.”
He shook his head violently. “No. This is too big. Too fast. Too … everything.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not aware of how absolutely unhinged this sounds? But—Ledger, you don’t have time. You said it yourself. It’s only a matter of days.”
His expression flickered. Pain, fear, and something raw.
He looked away, then muttered so quietly I barely heard it, “Fourteen days.”
“Ledger,” I said softly. “Just talk it through with me. Please. Don’t say no without thinking.”
He hesitated.
Then he exhaled.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Hypothetically.”
My heart thumped hard. “Hypothetically,” I echoed.
He dragged a hand down his face again. “What would this even look like?”
My pulse jumped. “Well, first, we’d have to get a marriage license.”
He groaned.
“And then, we’d get married,” I continued, ignoring his dramatics, “I’d have access to my full trust fund allocation, and you’d have stability while you figure out your next move. Rent. Groceries. Lane fees. Training costs.”
“Stop,” he begged. “Please stop listing things. I might throw up.”
I rolled my eyes, but my nerves tightened. “Look, I’m not saying it would be easy. But it could help us both.”
He let out a shaky breath. “Roxie, you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I said quietly.
He lifted a disbelieving brow.
“I don’t,” I insisted. “You irritate me, sure. You challenge me. You drive me up the wall. But I don’t hate you.”
He studied me for a long moment, and I hated that my pulse jumped the way it always did when he looked at me like that—zeroed in, intense, like I was the only person in the room. “You drive me insane.”
“That’s fair.”
“You’re bossy.”
I nodded. “Accurate.”
“You talk too much.”
I shrugged. “Some people find that charming.”
He didn’t smile.
