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He shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that I—I thought I was protecting you. You had developed feelings and—”
“It’s not like I did that on purpose. I couldn’t help it, and I warned you…. The night I signed the contract, I said there was no way that signing a paper would prevent it.”
“You were right. It didn’t prevent it, for either of us. But I swear, Madeline, I pushed you away so I wouldn’t ruin your life, like the others…. You heard the stories. You know. I’m exactly like my father. I ruin women.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t ruin them. You didn’t ruin me.”
He glances down at the floor for a second, before hesitating, then slowly stands up. From his full height, he stares down at me, all earnestness shining in his eyes.
“I knew when I first met you. I could feel how strong you were. Your will…and the more you resisted, the more I wanted to break you. The more you defied me, I…” His gaze drops to the ground again, and he shakes his head.
“...The harder you tried,” I conclude in a quiet voice.
“I realized that night of the gala, when you admitted your feelings—I realized I’d let you in too close. But I couldn’t help it. For the first time in my life, I encountered something I couldn’t control. So I did what I’ve always done, I backed off and fought it with everything in me.”
“So what’s changed?” I ask, shifting on my feet. “Why are you coming back now?”
He takes a step forward, his body so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off of him. Fuck. My number one weakness is definitely Evan Kohl.
With his free hand, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a folded document, several layers thick. “This is a new contract,” he says. “You can change it or add anything you want. Any stipulation, and it’s yours.”
I glance down at the papers in his hand as he unfolds them and holds them out to me. It’s a tempting offer. The thought of Evan Kohl at my mercy, contractually obligated to do anything I want gives me a rush. What would I ask for? Walks along the beach every Sunday at 5 o’clock? Cuddles and Netflix every night between nine and eleven o’clock? Weekends full of alone time and passionate lovemaking?
But who wants to live like that? Who wants love on a contractual basis?
I take a step back, and his hand, holding the papers, drops.
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath. “I don’t want that. I don’t want you to do something just because you’re obligated by a piece of paper. I’m done with contracts. I want you—without clauses and stipulations.”
The fear in his eyes is real, and I can almost see the gears in that brilliant mind turning, trying to solve this riddle. Trying to figure out how he can keep both me and full control of the situation. “A contract would protect both parties from—”
“From what, Evan? Love? Heartache? I think we’ve already proven that’s not true.”
His jaw tightens, and he fiddles with the papers in his hand, unfolding and refolding them. “It removes uncertainty,” he says, his voice thick, and in that moment, I finally understand.
In his world, everything is tightly controlled. Outcomes are written out and finite. But this—what we have between us—he can’t control. He can’t foresee the outcome, and that must terrify him.
“Love is uncertainty. It’s knowing that every day that other person has the freedom to walk away but chooses not to.” I hesitate, clearing my throat to say the rest without trembling. “Love is trust.”
Evan’s eyes drop to the papers in his hand, his contract, and I can sense the inner war, like he’s deciding what to say that will convince me to come around to his way of thinking. “The one thing I’m certain of is that I can’t lose you again,” he murmurs finally.
I fold my arms across my chest, squaring my shoulders. “If that’s the reason you need me to sign that, then you never had me to begin with.”
He visibly swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The papers crackle in his hands as they tighten their grip. “You won’t leave again?” he asks without looking at me.
“You’ll just have to trust me,” I answer. And that’s the truth. I can’t promise him anything. “Just as I’ll have to do the same for you. All I know is that I love you, and being away from you was the worst four weeks of my life.”
He creases the paper in his hand. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve tried and I don’t…”
“There’s no manual, no contract. No rules. Just the promises we make to each other.” I brave a tentative smile at him. It’s shaky and uneven, just like my insides. This isn’t just scary for him. My insides are ice cold and jittery.
I know I wanted to push him away, but now I know I want to run into his arms.
“Madeline, if you won’t take the contract, then…” With swift movements, he shreds the contract into pieces and shoves them into his jacket and holds out his empty hand. I place mine in it, and his long fingers instantly curl around it. “Take my heart. It’s all I have to give.”
The lump in my throat is so large I can hardly swallow around it and the back of my throat is stinging with tears. “Evan…I never stopped loving you. And I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. There are no guarantees. But I can promise you that I want this. As much as you do.”
He tugs my hand and just like that…I’m in his arms again, feeling that powerful hold wrap around me. My body melts against his, and his arms pull me tighter to him. Reaching up, I slide my hand around his neck as I rest my cheek against his shoulder, my eyes closing to savor the feel of him.
