Page 31 of Line Change

I agree. I haven’t had Indian food in a while, so this meal is hitting the spot.

Eventually, she pushes her bowl away. “Are we still getting married?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind. I won’t hold it against you.” She looks everywhere except at me, but I’m not having that, so I reach across the table and tilt her chin up until her green eyes meet mine.

“I didn’t. I’d never go back on my word, to anyone, but most especially not to you.”

I don’t miss the small gasp she lets out. “Oh.”

I let go of her chin and fiddle with my napkin. “Do you not want to go through with it?”

“I want to do it,” she says, straightening. “But I should tell you more about my family so you know what you’re getting into.”

“If you want.” No matter what she tells me, it’s not going to change my mind, but I am curious.

“My family, I should say my father, Jonathan Jefferson, is a very wealthy man, and he uses his money to get what he wants. He manipulates people, even his children, by holding money over their heads. He thinks because he’s rich, he’s untouchable, that rules don’t apply to him, and that he can use his money to buy his way out of any situation. Which, unfortunately, usually works for him. Hell, it works for all the men in his circle.” I clench my fist. Her father sounds like a big asshole. “That’s why I said no to you when you asked me out.” The last part comes out in a whisper, and fuck me, everything makes so much sense now. And I feel even worse that I kept asking her out. But also I hate her father even more because I am not like him, and I wish she’d given me the opportunity to show her that.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say after the silence has stretched on for what feels like too long.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, and I’m woman enough to admit that I was wrong about you. You’re nothing like him. None of you are. I’m sorry for judging you unfairly. For not giving you a chance.”

My heart races. “I understand now. I just wish …” I pause, collecting my thoughts, trying to figure out how to say what’s on my mind. “I wish I’d known the reason why you didn’t want to date me. The real reason.”

“I should have told you.”

“I still feel bad about being so persistent.” I meet her gaze, hoping she can see that I’d never hurt her, never try to control her.

“You’re nothing like him. I know that. I think I’ve always known it,” she says after a few seconds, breaking eye contact to run her finger around the condensate on her glass. “What’s done is done. No sense rehashing the past.” She pauses. “I don’t know what he might do when he finds out about my inheritance.” She frowns, her forehead crinkling, and I fight the urge to touch her, smooth away the wrinkles. “I want you to be prepared.” She looks up at me. “I hope it doesn’t get ugly, but it might. I understand if you don’t want to risk it.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

She’s silent for a few beats. “If you’re sure.” I nod. “We probably should have ground rules and a prenup or legal agreement of some kind.”

“I can talk to my lawyer about the legal side of it, unless you have your own you want to use?”

“Your lawyer is fine. I was thinking something simple like we’re not expecting anything financially or otherwise from each other when the marriage is over. And the end date and whatever other stipulations we decide on.”

“Sounds good.” At this point, I’ll go along with whatever she wants if it means I get to spend more time with her, be married to her, even if for a short time.

She glances around the room. “Neither of us can be with anyone else during this marriage. I hate to say that because I know you have needs …”

“I haven’t had sex in a while. A few more months will be fine.” Her mouth gapes open. I stifle a laugh. “What?”

“You haven’t had sex in a while? Not that I’m judging or one to talk because …” She points to her stomach. “Maybe I should have taken a page out of your book.”

“The season keeps me busy, and then I was home helping my mum on the farm all summer. Haven’t had time to think about it.” I haven’t wanted any woman besides you, and since I couldn’t have you, I didn’t want anyone. “What else?”

“We’ll have to keep living together.”

“That’s a given.”

“My grandmother’s lawyer will probably want to talk to us. I’m sure separately. I imagine he’ll want to make sure we’re actually married and not faking it.” I raise my eyebrows, but before I can ask what she means, she says, “As in we didn’t just get married on paper but live separate lives. I hope it’s not invasive. My grandmother could be …” She cringes. “Old-fashioned.”

“You don’t say?”

“We should probably tell our friends, right? I mean we’re at least going to have to let HR know.” She buries her face in her hands. “This is getting complicated. Maybe it’s not worth it.” The last part comes out in a whisper.