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I gulp, the last dredges of hope extinguished like dying embers in a firepit. “You can’t seriously want this.”
His forehead creases in confusion. “Of course I want this.”
Forcing out a laugh, I step closer and place the back of my hand on his forehead. “Are you sick? Delirious?”
He irritably pushes my hand away. “Stop playing around. This is as serious as it gets.”
I shake my head, stumped. I’d prayed he was fighting this on his end until he showed up in a suit. Still, I’m legitimately perplexed. Sure we’ve messed around, but sexual attraction is not the foundation of a viable marriage, especially with our history. “Why? You hate me. Just like I hate you. Why would you possibly marry someone you hate?”
His espresso-colored eyes expand with incredulity. “I don’t hate you. Why would you think that?”
My head jerks back like I’ve been smacked. Is he making fun of me? Is this a joke to him? I inhale sharply, taking a moment to regain my bearings after the huge lie that shot out of his mouth. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? And you have the audacity to sound sincere.”
“I am sincere,” he says somberly.
“Will you knock it off, already? My mother’s gone. We’re not at a family picnic.” I wave my arms around the empty living room. “You don’t have to pretend for anyone’s sake. I already hate you so you certainly don’t have to pretend for me.”
He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t hate you, Crina. I wouldn’t ask you to marry me if I did. That would be insane.”
“Yeah, it would be,” I agree tersely. “And guess what…you’re acting legit insane right now.”
I’m not sure what I find more shocking, that he doesn’t think this entire marriage is batshit crazy, that he wants to marry me knowing I hate him, or that he claims not to hate me.
I need a moment as my mind zips through these stunning revelations. Arching my brow skeptically, I ask, “Because…what happened a few years ago…that was what? A declaration of love to every boy in the locker room? I ran out of there with bruises up and down my back, scared out of my wits.” I clench my jaw, anger coursing through me yet again. “And what did you do to protect me? Nothing, that’s what.”
Jabbing a finger in his chest, I warn him, “Don’t come to my house and insult me with your blatant lies. You can pull one over on my mother, fine. She’s always had a soft spot for you, and she has no idea what you’re capable of. I, on the other hand, am not so ignorant. I remember ev-ery-sin-gle-thing.” I punctuate the last words in short bursts of fury.
He presses his lips together in displeasure. I’m trying his patience, as I often do, but he won’t rise to my provocation. He never does, the bastard. Never gives me the satisfaction of getting under his skin. Even now, after he’s demonstrated a certain effort by coming over— extended an olive branch of sorts—and I’ve taunted him by bringing up the worst moment between us, he still won’t take the bait.
I cup my ear. “Nothing to say?”
“Crina, you don’t understand…”
I cross my arms over my chest. “So make me understand.”
“This isn’t the time or place…”
I snort. “When is the time and place? After we’re married?”
“That would be better, yes.”
My brows shoot up. I can’t believe this guy. He’s delusional if he thinks I’d ever willingly spend time with him, much less marry him, before we address the ginormous elephant in the room. I mean, he abandoned me to the wolves and purposely destroyed our friendship. Does he think I’ll let something like that slide? Almost four years is a long time, but it’s like he’s never known me at all.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not.”
And then he does the most unbelievable thing yet.
He drops down on one knee.
I jump back from him like he’s a cobra about to strike.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet box. My mouth drops open. He props it open, revealing a huge diamond ring. Despite myself, I lean forward to inspect it. Wow, that’s nice. I shake my head and squeak, “What the hell is that?”
“It’s an engagement ring.”
This is surreal. Really. I have no words for what’s happening here. Once upon a time, I might have fantasized about this moment. But those fantasies were childhood pipe dreams that died long ago. Before I can process more, he says, “Crina Lupu, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
