“It does hurt,” she admits. “Mainly because of the time lost.”
The crack returns, and as if realizing this, Luna glares at her lap. I can imagine she’s giving herself a silent berating for showing weakness.
I wish she were comfortable being vulnerable with me. But I get the sense that few men—few people—have given Luna a reason to trust them.
“Anyway,” she pushes on, “the money. It came with stipulations. One of them was that I won’t inherit unless I get married.”
Good thing the outside chairs are made of sturdy material because I rock back hard at that revelation.
Is Luna getting married?
Under the table, I crack my knuckles.
“There were other things, but I didn’t bother listening to them because that first one was ludicrous. Especially because I need to be hitched by the time I’m thirty. Which is in less than five months. Even if I have the urge to shackle myself to someone, I’m not about to do it that fast.”
Just then, the staff arrives with our food, and I mull over Luna’s story as they arrange everything on the table.
A strange concoction brews in my chest. Relief that Luna’s not about to commit to someone for the rest of her life. But alsoa pervasive melancholy at the dismissive tone she used to talk about a lifelong partnership.
And then there’s sadness. That the one thing left to her by this woman she obviously loved is out of her reach.
“But then I talked to my brother.” Luna’s determined words bring me back to the conversation. One that isn’t over.
“Dash?”
“Leo.”
Ah. The one still in the illegal family business.
Luna swirls her spoon in her bowl, eyes on the brown broth. That’s when I realize I haven’t taken a bite. Making sure the gumbo makes it to my mouth and not my shirt, I briefly take my focus off Luna but keep listening as she continues.
“I know he wants an out. Of the business. Problem is that the work is like quicksand and he’s buried up to his neck.” She abandons her food for more tea. “There’s one thing that’ll get him out. A language they all speak.”
I can guess. “Money?”
Luna nods. “Money. And I know how to get some.”
I wonder if someone walked by and kicked out the legs of my chair because my brain whirls wildly off-kilter.
She can’t be leading up to what I think she is.
With a clatter, I drop my spoon into the bowl. Brown droplets splatter on my crisp white button-down, but for once, I don’t have the headspace to cringe at my clumsiness.
The fierce woman sitting across from me claims every iota of attention.
“Why did you ask to talk to me, Luna?”
She sets her own spoon down with more control than I managed.
“Because, Charlie Keller, I want to know if you’ll marry me.”
CHAPTER 17
CHARLIE
Things need to get messier before they can get better.
I try to believe this wisdom as I stare around my disordered living space. There are cardboard boxes and random piles of belongings and packing material skewed everywhere.
