Page 11 of Burn this City

She nodded silently.

“First, let me state: you can still one hundred percent do what you want to do. Become an electrician, or go back to culinary school—whatever works for you. Nobody shouts at the boss, you know, if you wanted to open your own restaurant. You’d have your own place to live, and, as you’ve realized, money wouldn’t be an issue, at least not much of one. You’d be completely safe and secure, and I would never make any demands of you.” He’d gone through that list so often in his head, it almost appeared as bullets before his eyes, but he shook his head and focused completely on her. Her breath came a little faster, a little flatter, and her eyes had widened a touch.

“I’d do my best to support you in everything you do. You wouldn’t have a single worry in the whole world. Not one, I promise.”

In his mind, he’d been smoother, more diplomatic, and in his mental rehearsals, she hadn’t looked anywhere near this alarmed. When the last sentence came out, it was a wretched, breathless thing. “I want you to marry me.”

5

“What? No!” She ripped her hand from his and pushed away from the breakfast bar with enough force to almost topple the stool.

The sick humor of the situation hit Jack, and shock and pain mixed at seeing her recoil like that. Yes, it had been a big request, definitely more than she’d expected, but … she’d reacted as if he’d invited her to join him in cannibalism or something, not matrimony. “I’m sorry.”

“Jack, what’s going on? Why?” Red spots danced on her cheeks. He couldn’t tell whether she was outraged or anxious. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing’s happened. Please think about it. There’s nothing nefarious in this, I swear.”Wow, look at you, Mr. Hotshot “Consultant”,who’s getting flustered now?Noticing the tension in her body and especially her rigid legs, he forced himself to sit down again, but he pushed his plate to the side.

She didn’t seem convinced by the gesture and remained where she was, alert like an animal who’d heard a gun crack but hadn’t yet caught a whiff of cordite. “No, I mean, we’re not that kind of close.” A hint of insecurity vibrated in her voice, indicating she was starting to doubt it herself, doubt the truth. Because a man she’d trusted was behaving as if he had the right to define their relationship in new terms, and now she was struggling to re-evaluate everything. That was the part that hurt enough to push him over the edge.

“No, we’re not. You’re right.”

Nowher alertness ratcheted up.

Here he was, terrifying her by staying calm and unemotional, but through the habitual numbness and exhaustion, a chronic condition of his life, he was surprised to feel an acute pain somewhere in his chest. “It was a stupid idea. I wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of …”

“In case …?”

“No, not like that.”

“Then what is it, Jack? Can’t you tell me? Ideas like that don’t come out of nowhere. You’re not interested in me like that. I mean, you never were.” Again, her eyes shifted, obviously going through their shared history to test individual facts and events to see if they yielded any other interpretation, or could be assembled into a totally different timeline that would turn their weird lopsided friendship—compassionate project? platonic soulmateship?—into a normal heterosexual relationship centered on attraction. As if she could find a way to believe Jack’s patient, long-suffering love had finally declared itself.

“You’re right, I never wanted to sleep with you.” That destroyed any idea he’d briefly entertained that he could play this as if he were a red-blooded male who’d bided his time until she felt ready to consider a relationship again. He’d weighed that betrayal the same way he did when faced with options that only a very evil man would seriously consider. Usually, he was able to find alternative solutions that just as well. But the people he moved around like pawns fancied believed themselves to be players, too, and they’d never look for alternatives to evil; they’d betray him in a heartbeat.

Beth, however …

Yeah, she wasn’t a player. He’d never regarded her as a pawn, either. She’d been part of a different world and their chance encounter had torn down the wall between her world and his. When both of their lives had been so close to ending.

“So why?”

“Listen … I don’t have an explanation. I need to marry. You’re the only one I can trust.”

Shit.

But he did, didn’t he? By getting her to trust him, he’d come to trust her too. Maybe because none of his many alarm bells went off in her presence. If his mind were like a jacket pickpockets trained their apprentices with, sewn with bells all over, she’d never raised so much as a tinkle.

She stared at him, opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it. Took a sharp breath, opened her mouth again, and he realized how his words must have sounded. That she was a tool, a stopgap. She was right—this was about him and only him. He was all but bribing her to accept a terrible violation of trust.

“Your family?”

He almost startled when she unwittingly jabbed the finger right into the wound. “Yes.”

The fear in her eyes softened and she took a couple steps toward him. “I’m so sorry. Are they giving you a hard time?”

Not yet, but they will.

He raised a hand to wave the concern away. “Yes, but that’s not your problem.”

For a long while, they didn’t speak, but she didn’t bolt, and she was no longer scared or shocked. She seemed to gather her thoughts and then raised her chin in a show of defiance. “Maybe you could explain to them … I get that your parents might want grandchildren, but maybe you can sit them down and explain to them that …” She hesitated, clearly unwilling to go there. “I mean, you’re a successful businessman. What’s more important, you’re akindman. Maybe they’ll stop pressuring you to marry and give you more time to find the right one.”

---