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“No, I— That’s not what I’m saying,” I cried, massaging my temples. “Okay, I’m not explaining this right. What I mean is, there are all kinds of marriages... and I’m open to... discussing.” The face reflected in Victor’s eyes was turning neon red. “The right kind... for us.”
“Are you clumsily proposing an open marriage?” he asked, blunt as a truck.
Yes, for sure neon red.
“Why? Is there some guy you’re hoping to slip in our bed after we tie the knot?”
Rafael floated through my head. “No!”
“Would that mean I can fool around with Everleigh Starling?”
“I mentioned that I hated you, right? Forget I said anything.”
“Hold up.” Victor grasped my elbow, stopping my escape. “Five years.”
“Excuse me?”
“We give our marriage a real shot for five years. The love stuff. The romantic shit. Getting to know each other. Counseling. Communication. All that crap,” he rattled off. “Five years of just the two of us, and when time’s up, if both of us don’t feel we’ll ever be more than friends, we can do the open-marriage thing. Discreetly.”
“Both of us?” I repeated, turning over what he said. “What if only one wants the open marriage?”
“Then, we’d have to split, wouldn’t we? If you were in love with me, could you stand to wave me out the door when I dash off to bang my lady on the side? You bare your teeth when I say Everleigh’s name, and you barely like me right now.”
“I don’t,” I said quickly, but that wasn’t the point. “Okay, you’re right. That would have to be something we both wanted. But why five instead of three or one? Would it take us five years to figure out if we love each other?”
“Five years in, we should have a kid. And I don’t need to be wondering if the bugger is mine.”
“Can you please stop bringing up children so casually?” I hissed. “You know we’re getting married next year. Are you trying to be a dad before twenty-five?”
“I’m trying to be a husband at nineteen and a CEO by twenty-one. Why not a dad before twenty-five? We can afford a fleet of nannies, Sinclair. You wouldn’t be choosing between your career.”
“You concern me.”
He barked a laugh. “You’re concerned because I’ve thought about your future, and you haven’t. It’s a personal problem.”
Got the bull’s-eye with one arrow.
“So, five years,” he said. “We good with that?”
“It does sound reasonable.” I shuffled on the grass, glancing toward the anthropology building and away. “But what about now? Giving our marriage a real chance makes sense, but right now, we’re basically strangers coming off half a dozen terrible first impressions. I know we made a deal, but what if we treated our engagement like”—I cast about for the word—“dating? Feeling each other out. We can come up with new rules for it.”
“Like what? That we can hook up with other people?”
His bluntness was going to be a real problem. “Maybe,” I hedged. “I know I said no hooking up because your mistresses would throw it in my face, but they’re doing that anyway. I say we start over, take the pressure off, and do this the normal way. Ignore the rings on our fingers. We can talk exclusivity when I can look at you and see a man I want to be committed to, and vice versa.”
Humming, he pushed out his lips. “Start over?”
“Yes.”
“Act like we just met and are about to have our first date?”
“Yes.”
“Nonexclusive?”
Lifting my chin, I said, “Yes.”
“Okay, then I have one question.”
“What is it?”
“Are you going to be cool with me fucking Everleigh, because she is so damn—”
“Stop bringing up that bitch!”
Guffawing, Victor clapped me on the shoulder. “That answers that. Exclusive it is.” Victor set off without a look back. “Let’s go. We’re late for class.”
I stood there fuming for a full ten seconds, and shockingly, my anger wasn’t directed at Victor. I was pissed at myself. When did he become the reasonable, forward-thinking, accommodating one in this engagement, and I became the jealous, possessive jerk?
I was not liking this shift in our dynamic.
KATIE SUMMONED ME AFTER my final class of the day let out. I wish I had another word for the text she sent me—instructing me of the place and time I was supposed to meet her, so I could treat her to dinner. But a summons was the only word for it.
Victor, and Lucien, escorted me to the fountain where she waited, and not alone. She and Dean were making out hardcore. They nearly tipped over the rim twice since I laid eyes on them.
“You good?” Victor asked. “Want me to hang around campus till you come back?”
“No, go home. I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t move. “Where are you staying? I should’ve asked this earlier, but why did you move in with the Rogues? Did something happen in the dorm?”
