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She raises her head, her chin propped on my chest. "I want to tell you everything, but there's a chance you could get in trouble if I do. Legal trouble. You might become an accessory or something."
My heart stutters, and my breath catches. Did she say… Aye, I'm dead positive she just offered to share all her secrets. "Tell me. You're worth any risk."
Snuggling her cheek against my chest, she squeezes her eyes shut—and then she unloads that burden she's lived under for too long.
"I told you the basics about Rade and me," she says. "I mentioned how kind Rade was after my parents died. He offered to go with me to the funeral home, the probate lawyer's office, whatever. I was grateful for the offer, but I couldn't let him do it. He'd never met my parents and… well, I felt I needed to do it on my own. Still, he was there to keep me company and bring me food, little things like that. But when he proposed marriage, he offered me a kind of help I couldn't turn down. I should have, I realize that now. But I was grieving, and I made a horrible decision."
I spread my hands over her lower back, stroking with my fingertips. "What sort of help?"
She hauls in a deep breath and exhales it. "Remember I said my parents had hidden their financial problems from me and Gavin? I'm sure they were embarrassed and thought they were protecting us, believed they'd get back on track and we'd never have to know. After they died, Gavin and I had to shell out our own money for the funeral expenses and neither of us had much to start with. What little was left of their estate went to paying their debts, and we had to sell their house to pay off the mortgage since neither of us could afford the monthly payments. I'd gotten student loans to pay for college, and Gavin was fresh from the Marines, trying to find a job while recovering from the things he'd been through in Afghanistan. Our parents' deaths hit us both hard, but him more so than me. We were wrecked, emotionally and financially."
"Calli…" I brush wayward hairs off her forehead with my free hand, while my other hand remains entwined with hers. "I'm so sorry."
"Believe it or not, that isn't the worst part." She swallows visibly, her expression tight. "Two months after my parents died, I had to cut back my college classes to part-time and get a job to stay afloat. This meant my student loans would become payable in six months' time. No way could I get back on my feet before that happened, and I couldn't afford the payments either."
"Your good friend intervened, I'm guessing. With an offer."
"Rade said he would pay off my student loans and give me the money to finish college. He knew I wanted to go to grad school to study library science, and he offered to pay for that as well. If I did him a favor."
My hands freeze on her back. We've completely stopped moving our bodies, though we linger in each other's arms.
"He'd help me out of my jam," she continues, "if I helped him out of his. Rade's student visa was running out. He wanted to stay, he had plenty of money he inherited when his parents died. I could have my financial problems wiped out in one fell swoop—if I married him."
I make a noise somewhere between a huff and a sigh. "He wanted you to marry him so he could stay in the country."
"Yes. A green card marriage, so to speak." She hugs me tighter like she's desperate to cling to something, anything. "I was still reeling from my parents' deaths, and Gavin was still a mess. I was frantic about the money problems. What Rade offered me sounded like a generous, compassionate offer. And when he told me about his parents, how they died and he was devastated, how he understood what I was feeling…I agreed to marry him."
I circle my palms over her back, hoping the gesture soothes her.
"You have to be married for three years," she says, "before the non-citizen spouse can apply for citizenship. Rade swore once he got his citizenship, we'd wait six months for good measure and then get divorced. It's been five years. He got his citizenship a year ago."
Though I say nothing, I'm sure she can see the question on my face.
"Rade promised to file for divorce," she tells me. "Kept saying he'd do it soon, he was busy, just be patient. Two months ago, I realized he'd never do it, and I filed myself. Couldn't afford a lawyer, so I did it on my own and paid all the fees. Then I had to pay a process server to deliver the papers to Rade, but he manages to always be gone when the server shows up at his house. I can't afford to pay the server anymore."
Can't stop myself from scowling. "Why won't thisbod ceannlet you go?"
She raises her head to look at me. "Bod ceann?"
"Dickhead."
Calli almost smiles—almost—but can't quite do it. "Rade claims he wants to have a real marriage, asked me to move in with him. After all these years of sticking to our agreement, suddenly he wants to change it. I don't understand. We lived separate lives by mutual agreement. I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him in all these years. Sure, he sent me flowers and cards on my birthdays. I thought he was being polite, being a good friend and all. Now I'm not so sure, but I can't figure out what he wants."
"This has some bearing on why you don't want to love me, I gather. Confused about how, though."
She buries her face against my chest, sucking in a breath. "Too many people have turned out to be the opposite of what I thought they were. My parents deceived me by not talking about their problems, leaving a mess when they died. Gavin and Tara married people who changed later on. And my husband is suddenly singing a different tune after years of promising to set me free."
I rest my chin on top of her head. "All I want is you, however I can have you. And I willnae give up because one bastard has a hold on you."
"Rade's not a bastard. But you'd be better off going back to Chicago to find another American girl."
"Cannae." I exhale, and the gusty breath ruffles her hair. "I want you."
Why can't she see how much she means to me? It's more than sex, more than companionship, more than anything I've ever felt before. But if I tell her that, she might panic again. Donnae know how long I can wait to share my feelings with her. How long should I wait? There's no manual for how to deal with a wounded lass who can't trust anyone.
"You haven't wanted to tell me," I say gently, "but it would help to know what happened with your cousin and your brother. With their marriages."
"Tara's first husband seemed like a decent guy, but he turned out to be emotionally abusive, putting her down all the time and making her feel worthless. She left him after fourteen months."
