“Stop?” he asks, opening his fingers.
I grip his hand and keep it. It feels like my soul is quaking. I whisper, “Would you…reallymarry me?”
“Yes. Immediately.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“Should I call Crisis and ask where the guy who runs that part of the courthouse lives? Then should I call him and tell him to make it happen within the hour? At what point will you believe me? At what point will you stop denying what you already know? You trust me. You know that I’m honest. You know I’m not kidding. I would marry you in a heartbeat if you let me. I would do anything for you, Morana.” Lifting a lock of my hair in his free hand, he kisses the strands. “Even wait. For as long a time as you deem adequate.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I rest my forehead against his shoulder. “I don’t understand. I’m not interesting.”
“Lie.”
“I’ve been used.”
“If only I could get my hands on the people who have thought they were allowed to use my wife…”
“I’m just…I’m not…”
“Say it,” he murmurs, turning his face and kissing my neck. “Say it out loud, so I can prove it wrong.”
“I’m not good enough,” I whisper. “I’ve never been good enough. For anyone.”
“You’re more than good enough for me.”
“For how long?”
“Forever.”
I clutch him. “How will I know that you mean that?”
He frees a breath against my skin, runs his touch down to my knee, and says, “I guess…you’ll just have to come into forever with me, feeling how much I mean that from moment to moment, and day to day, until—eventually—you don’t question it anymore and you know…we have reached the state of forever I’m talking about at last.” He cradles my body. “Would you like that, Morana?”
That is, perhaps, all I have ever wanted, but I can’t bring myself to speak, so I just dip my chin and hold him, terrified of what might happen if I let go.
Chapter 16
?
Support systems are v important.
Morana
“Mae,” I begin, face down on the bed in her sewing room yet again, “am I a loser?”
The steady hum of her machine hitches and stops. I can tell by the sound of her voice that she’s turned her full attention to me. “Um.” Moments pass withoutnoin them. “Are we going to keep doing this? What’s going on? Also, are we going to talk about the fact you didn’t go home last night?”
I tense, pushing myself up to look at her. “Says who?”
“Crisis.”
That no good dirty snitch.
I frown. “I don’t think we need to talk aboutanythinguntil you tell me whether or not I’m a loser.”
“You’re not a loser. Did you sleep with Kyran?”
Heat pours through my body as what happened and, acutely, whatdidn’thappen traipse through my brain. “Yes, and no.” I twist, falling back onto her bed and crossing my arms. “We…slept.”
