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“Alexis, I know it hasn’t been that long—” Yeah, it’s been two weeks, what is he thinking? “—but we have something special. I want you to be my wife. I know it’s not the easiest thing to be with me, but I promise that I will take care of you. You’ll want for nothing, and I can take you anywhere you want to go. You won’t even have to work, and you won’t have to live in that apartment. Will you—“
I cut him off before he can say the words. If he says them, I might actually break. “Seriously?” I ask, my voice raspy. “You think this is the solution? To marry me and lock me behind walls and security and everything else like some sort of precious princess?”
He opens his mouth, his face flushing. He didn’t seem to consider this angle. Of course he didn’t, though. Most girls would be ecstatic about marrying him, with his billions of dollars. He didn’t consider that maybe Idowant to work, that I want to make a name for myself. I’ve even been thinking about calling the marine rescue to find out if Henry was serious about having me back.
“Why do you want to marry me?” I ask, my voice softer, gentler.
His eyes flicker with emotion. “Because I love you,” he says, “and I want you to feel safe and secure.”
I shake my head. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird that you’re only telling me you love meafterproposing?” I sigh. “I get that you want to take care of me. I do. But this,” I gesture at the ring, “isn’t the answer.”
He frowns and closes the box, face flushing before he stands up and turns around. “So you don’t love me?” he asks. The words shatter me, because I don’t have an answer that makes sense. I care about him, and I want to be with him, but this is too much.
“I don’t know how I feel,” I say, reaching toward him. “That’s the point. We barely know each other.”
Before I can touch him, he walks away, setting the ring box on the kitchen island.
“James,” I say, my heart finally restarting. He’s shutting down, locking me out. “You didn’t talk to me for two days, and then you sprung a proposal on me.”
He finally turns to look at me, and the hurt and betrayal are written across his features. My heart breaks again when he can’t hold my gaze, but I also know I have to stand my ground. What can I say to make him understand?
“I’m just not ready,” I say. “We need more time, and I’m not going to give up on my dreams in order to be with anyone. I want to work, to take care of the animals that need help. Do you understand that?”
He shrugs but still refuses to look at me. I understand that he’s confused and hurting, but there’s nothing else I can do if he’s gonna shut down and refuse to even look me in the eyes.
“I’m going back to my room,” I say. “You have my number.” I try to keep my voice gentle, but some of that frustration seeps through. If he needs time to process this rejection, I’ll happily give him that. It’s not like I broke up with him. I just told him I’m not ready for that particular commitment. Can’t what we have be enough for now?
Chapter Nineteen
James
Have I been totally off-base with Alexis this whole time? I’m too mortified to talk to her right now, so I throw myself into my work. Anytime Camilla or Tyler ask about her, I change the subject. I can’t think about the pitiful way she looked at me, or the horror on her face when I got down on one knee. I’ve never felt so strongly for someone, and she rejected me outright.
The worst part, though, is that she was right. Would I really ask her to be some rich housewife with no aspirations of her own? I don’t know how I could possibly make it up to her or fix this, though. I’m out of ideas.
Instead, I move back into my house in Miami. Camilla knows to take care of Alexis’s needs while she’s stuck at the resort. Alexis hasn’t texted me in the week following that rejection, and I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to text first. So far, I haven’t been. Sure, I’m ashamed of my cowardice, but every time I open the text chain I had with Alexis before everything blew up, my heart freezes in my chest, and it’s like I’m being held captive by my own body.
My phone pings with a calendar reminder, and nausea roils within me. I’d been so preoccupied with everything else that I didn’t even realize what day it is tomorrow. Is it really so soon?
I collapse into my office chair, elbows on the table so I can press my forehead into my hands. This is one more thing I don’t know how to deal with, just another way to show how inadequate I am.
A small knock sounds at my door, and I look up to a shocking sight. A young man is standing there in a light suit, the jacket a pale tan with a wide gray grid pattern. He doesn’t look like an executive, not with his shaggy brown hair that falls to his shoulders and his somewhat-unkempt beard.
“Tyler?” I ask. I haven’t actually seen him since last year, shortly after…I don’t want to think about it.
He strides over and sits in one of the two leather chairs across my desk, leaning back and propping his feet up like he owns the place. Honestly, he looks more like a spoiled heir than the self-made owner of a billion-dollar empire.
“You look terrible,” he says. He doesn’t mean it as an insult, but more of an observation. He’s always been direct, which means that tact isn’t really a part of his personality.
“That was rude,” I point out, not because I’m offended, but because he might anger the wrong person someday, and I’d hate to see him get punched.
He tilts his head, considering his words. After a long moment, he nods. “Right. You look…in need of assistance?”
I sit up, brushing my fingers through my own hair. I’m in desperate need of a cut, although I’m not as shaggy as Tyler. “Better. Tone could use some work, but you’ve got the spirit of it.” After a pause for him to nod again, I ask, “What brings you here?”
Now it’s his turn to point out how obtuse I’m being. Of course I know the reason, but I also don’t particularly want to acknowledge it. “It’s your parents’ memorial tomorrow. I’m here because you need me here.”
He’s right. I know that, but hearing him say it out loud stings nonetheless. I don’t even get to visit their graves, as I have to give a big televised speech for the whole company and, probably, the world. My palms sweat just thinking about it.
