“We’ve met a few times?—”
“Jesus Christ.” She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “You’re going to marry a stranger rather than choosing the person who’s been loving you with everything she has.”
“You love me?”
The words slipped out before I could stop them, and Marley went completely still.
“Don’t,” she said quietly. “Don’t make me say it just so you can carry it with you into your marriage like some tragic keepsake.”
“I need to hear it.”
“Why? What difference does it make now?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared at me for a long moment, and I could see her internal war playing out across her face. Finally, she stubbed out her cigarette and turned to face me fully.
“You want to know if I love you?” Her voice had gone soft now, and somehow, that was much worse than the yelling.
“I love the way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating. I love how you organise your books by colour, like you’re creating rainbows on your shelves. I love that you dance barefoot in the kitchen when you think no one’s watching, and how you laugh at your own jokes before you finish telling them.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“I love how you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking hard about something. I love that you cry at commercials and try to hide it from me. I love how you feel so safe in my arms that you fall asleep with your face pressed into my neck.”
She reached up and touched my cheek, so gently it made me cry harder.
“I love how brave you are, even though you think you’re not. I love how you look at me and see magic instead of ruthlessness. I love that you see the best in everyone, even when they don’t deserve it.”
“Marley—”
“I love everything about you. Fuck, I love you so much it terrifies me,” she said, her voice breaking now as her thumb traced my cheekbone. “I love you in ways I didn’t know I was capable of. I love you enough that I’ve been ready to change everything about my life to make room for you in it.”
I leaned into her touch, memorising the feel of her hand against my skin.
“And that’s what makes this so fucking devastating,” she whispered. “Because I don’t even know if you feel the same way about me. But you’re going to choose duty over love anyway.”
“I don’t know how to choose you,” I admitted through my tears. “I don’t know how to be brave enough.”
“That’s the thing about bravery, Princess. You don’t know how until you just do it.” She pulled her hand away, and I immediately felt the loss. “But you can’t, can you? You can’t disappoint them, even if it means disappointing yourself for the rest of your life.”
“What if I choose you and we don’t work out? What if I lose everything for something that doesn’t last?”
“What if we do work out? What if ours is the kind of love that lasts for a lifetime, and you’re throwing it away because you’re too scared to find out?”
I had no answer for that.
She stared at me for a long moment, and I watched something die in her eyes.
“Let’s get you back to the dorm. It’s getting late.”
She started the engine. I wanted to reach for her hand on the gear shift, but I’d lost that right. The silence between us felt like a living thing, heavy and breathing in the small space of her car.
I cried and didn’t try to hide it. I cried ugly, messy tears that I wiped on my sleeve like a child. She didn’t look at me, not even a glance in my direction. Just kept her eyes straight ahead like I wasn’t even there.
Gosh. I’d really done it this time.
I’d hurt the one person who actually mattered, and now I was sitting here drowning in my own stupidity, trying to figure out how to fix something that might be completely broken.
