“What idea?”
Evan smiles. “A bigger wedding.”
The fork clatters lightly against my plate before I can stop my hand.
He keeps talking, unfazed.
“Not a redo,” he says, like he’s soothing me. “A reinforcement. A statement. Something that shows everyone we’re solid.”
My pulse spikes. My vision blurs at the edges.
“I’m not marrying you,” I bark back, like a match struck in a dark room.
Evan’s smile freezes. It doesn’t drop, not fully, but it tightens.
“Not here,” he murmurs.
I stare at him, heart pounding so hard it shakes my ribs.
“I mean it,” I whisper. “I’m not doing it.”
Evan’s eyes flick over my face, assessing. Calculating. Like he’s deciding whether to charm me, intimidate me, or punish me.
Then his smile returns, smoother than before.
“Faith,” he says gently, like I’m a child who said something silly, “you’re overwhelmed. That’s all.”
I laugh.
Not because it’s funny. Because it’s insane.
“Stop saying that,” I choke out. “Stop acting like I’m just having a mood.”
Evan’s hand comes across the table and rests on top of mine.
My skin crawls.
He squeezes lightly. “You need structure. You’ll thank us later, when you’re not emotional.”
I want to flip the table.
Instead, I stare down at his hand on mine, and I realize with a sick lurch of certainty:
This is the plan.
Keep me tired. Keep me watched. Keep me contained until I stop fighting.
Until “okay” becomes my whole personality again.
I pull my hand back slowly.
Evan’s expression doesn’t change, but his gaze hardens just a fraction.
The moment passes.
And we both pretend it didn’t happen.
CHAPTER FORTY
