“No.” He laughs again. “No, I was going to ask you to marry me.”
7
TRISTAN
This seems like a great idea. I think. As I watch Katie’s expression, I start to think maybe it wasn’t.
Katie Bailey is inscrutable to many. In possession of a hard stare and with the poise of any grand dame twice her age. Over the years, I’ve learned to read her flickers of expression, but right now, the press of her lips gives nothing away.
“You’re not serious.”
“Totally serious.” I nudge her with my elbow. “Let’s give it a go, Bailey. Could be fun.”
Her face is turned up to the sky now too, but the line of her mouth is still unhappy. “Why?”
There’s a wriggle of discomfort inside me. I lever up on my elbows. “What do you mean why? Because marrying some stranger sucks. You’re my best friend and we have fun together, and isn’t that what marriage should be about?”
She’s up and off the grass with one hard shove. “No,” she says shortly. “I don’t think that’s all of it.”
I push to my feet too, that discomfort turning my stomach. “Are you mad at me?” Katie doesn’t do mad. I charmher and she might get annoyed sometimes, but it always turns to laughter. Always. It’s one of the things I like best about her.
“Katie.” I grab her hand. Her pulse is rabbit-quick in her wrist. If mine were this fast, she’d make me lie down. “Did I say something wrong?”
Decisions are happening behind her deep brown eyes. I swear I can see her determining whether she is going to give me the truth, and if so, how much.
“Come on, Bailey. You can tell me.”
Her shoulders slump. I stroke the inside of her wrist, marveling absently at how silky the skin is there. Her gaze flicks to my arm, then my chest, lower, then away. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip.
Did she just check me out?
No way.
Do I want her to check me out?
I let my gaze trail over her shirt. It’s tighter today, I swear. I don’t think I’d strictly mind if she checked me out.
“You don’t want love, Tristan. Or a real marriage.”
I blink at her, reorienting myself. She looks like she wishes she were anywhere but here, admitting anything but this.
“Do you?”
Katie doesn’t talk about relationships. She had a boyfriend for a few months two years ago. I don’t recall his name, but I do recall his eminently punchable face.
She lifts one shoulder. “I mean, sure, maybe. I’d like the possibility. Don’t you want that too? Don’t you want the potential to at least fall in love with your wife?”
“I really don’t. Love is messy. Always trying to figure out where you stand. Letting your happiness depend so fully on someone else.” My thumb smooths circles over her pulse.
She glares at me and yanks her wrist away. “Well, I want it. One day. I want to fall in love, and I’m not going to marry you just togive it a gobecause you don’t want to let yourself be vulnerable.” She pokes me in the chest. “Iwant more. And you might one day too. So, no, I’m not marrying you.”
She whirls and starts jogging away.
I feel the loss of her presence keenly.
“Are you still mad at me?” I shout.
She turns, jogging backward, which always ends poorly for her. I start forward, just in case she trips and smashes her head.
