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“Oh.” Her eyes widen a fraction larger as she stares down at the ring. “It’s—” She swallows hard. “It’s beautiful.”
“If it’s not your style, I can?—”
“It is.” Bella is still staring at the ring, and after a long moment, she starts to take it out of the box. I reach out, my hand over hers as I stop her.
“Let me put it on your hand.”
For a second, I think she’s going to say no. But she relinquishes the ring, holding out her left hand. I take it, and the feeling of her palm resting in mine sends a jolt through me.
This is more than an arrangement. I can feel it, to the very depths of my bones. But the way she’s looking at me, with a sad sort of resignation in her eyes, strips any happiness I might feel away. Even when I slide the ring onto her finger, all I feel is a weight in my chest, the knowledge that I’m so close to something good, and being forced to go about it all wrong.
“It’s a perfect fit,” she says softly, holding her hand out in front of her.
So are we.
I almost say it. The words are on my lips, but I can’t quite get them off my tongue. I reach for her instead, moving closer as I press my palm to her cheek, my fingers pressed against her jaw as I draw her mouth to mine. When I kiss her, it’s soft and sweet, full of everything I want to tell her and more. But I don’t know if she can feel it. I don’t know if she can read in that kiss all of the things that I can’t seem to make myself say.
Her mouth softens against mine, and desire ripples through me. Her hand rests on my thigh, warm against the solid muscle, and it takes everything in me not to pull her into my lap, to thread my hands through her hair and deepen the kiss, to carry her upstairs and spend the rest of the night making her come.
Instead, I break the kiss, putting a small amount of space between us. Bella blinks at me, clearly startled by my restraint, and I give her a small, tight smile. “I want to wait until our wedding night to sleep with you again,” I say quietly. “The first time was—it was everything we both wanted it to be. And the second time was what we needed in the moment. I want the first time after you’re my wife to mean something.”
A tremulous smile quivers at the corners of her mouth. “That’s very old-fashioned of you,” she murmurs. “I’m a little surprised.”
“I want it to be special for you.” I reach down to take her hand, rubbing my thumb over the ring where it rests against her knuckle. “I want this to be as much of what you might want as possible.”
“That’s hard to do, since even I don’t know what I would want.” Bella tugs her hand away from mine, and I instantly feel colder. “I’ve spent my whole life trying not to get married. I haven’t really spent any time thinking about what I would want if I did.”
“I’ve arranged for some of the security to go into town with you tomorrow to look for a wedding dress. I’ll give you my card—you can get whatever you want.” I draw in a slow breath. “Maybe along the way, you’ll find some of what that is. If I can give it to you, Bella—I will.”
She swallows hard, still looking down at her hand. “I know,” she says softly. “What about the kids?” Her gaze lifts, catching mine. “What are we going to tell them?”
I can hear the nervousness in her voice, the worry for them and what they’ll think, and it only intensifies what I feel for her. Seeing her with them has always made me feel this way—seeing her carefulness, her concern, her caring with them. My chest aches at the thought.
“That’s simple,” I tell her quietly. “We’re going to tell them that we’ve fallen in love, and that we’re getting married.”
I can see the instant that her expression changes. Her face falls, and for a brief second, I think she’s going to cry. She flinches back, her hands suddenly knotted together in her lap, and then she pushes herself up, almost knocking over her wine glass in the process.
“I’m tired,” she says abruptly, walking past me. “I need to—I need to go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, Gabriel.”
Her voice is thick, as if she’s fighting back tears. I start to get up, but she’s already slipped inside the house, the back door closing hard behind her. I know she doesn’t want me to follow her.
I sink back down onto the bench, confused by her reaction. Is it because it seems like a lie to her? I can’t imagine that she would want me to tell Cecelia and Danny the truth—that I’m marrying Bella because it’s the most effective way to protect her from the man who held them and the rest of us at gunpoint in our former home, that that man is still a very real danger to us all. I’ve been trying to shield them from that, from the reality of the situation. I want them to feel safe here. I know eventually that I’ll have to tell them about the house in New York, about why we’ll have to find a new home, but I have every intention of putting that off for as long as possible.
And—it’s not entirely a lie. Not to me. We’re not getting married because we’re in love, but what I feel for her?—
It’s clearly not the same as what she feels for me. Her reaction spells that out as plainly as if she’d said it. And that makes me feel as if that hand is shoved inside of my chest again, squeezing my heart until it hurts.
A few minutes later, the back door opens again, and I look up abruptly, thinking that Bella might have come back. Instead, I see Aldo stepping out onto the deck, a beer in his hand as he comes to sit down across from me.
“I thought you’d be in bed by now, old man,” I tell him affectionately, and Aldo chuckles, sinking down onto the bench.
“I think the air out here agrees with me. I’ve been keeping better hours than I used to. Feel almost young again.” The way his voice creaks when he says it belies that, but I can imagine why he feels that way. I’ve felt a similar rejuvenation since I’ve been here. A sense of peace. Of renewal.
“Agnes told me there’s something going on with you and Bella.” Aldo’s creaky voice cracks the silence again, and I look up sharply. “Suppose I should have noticed it too. Now that she said something, seems obvious.” He looks towards the table, where the ring box is still sitting. “Definitely something going on.”
“Igor still wants her.” I can hear the defensiveness in my tone, although I know Aldo isn’t against me in this. I feel like I need to justify my decision, my choice to marry Bella, instead of finding some other way. I know, deep down, that I didn’t try all that hard to think of a different solution.
This is the solution I wanted.
