Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Yes. I think you should find the maid a babysitter.”
He pauses his hands and glances up at me. “Is that sarcasm?”
“When did you know you wanted to be a pilot? And no, I don’t need a babysitter.” Banter and subject diversion have become our official language.
Zach holds my gaze, and warmth snakes up my neck, settling into my cheeks. Those brown eyes … they always seem to hold a secret. Even if I haven’t been consciously pining for him, it’s hard not to feel something beyond friendship toward someone who proposes to you.
“I’ll have someone check in on you. And I knew I wanted to be a pilot when my grandpa bought me a remote-controlled airplane. I was ten. When did you know you wanted to be a photographer?”
I laugh at the simplicity of his question. “I fell in love with photography when the only decent guy my mom dated introduced me to it. Sometimes I wonder if all the photos I take are just pieces to a puzzle that will lead me to my destiny. However … I have found a possible temporary job with a wedding photographer. I’m thinking about it. No benefits. But it’s experience that might lead to something more. And it would just be weekends, so I could still keep my clients.”
“Working with another photographer sounds like a good opportunity.” He places the last new bandage on my wrist, keeping his attention on his hands. “Speaking of weddings …”
I withdraw my arm from his grasp, pulling his gaze up to meet mine. “Wedding? No. More like a pity marriage.”
“Call it what you want. Doesn’t change the fact that it would help you a lot.” He scratches the back of his head, messing his slightly longer hair.
It’s hard to wrap my heart around this idea, probably because my heart isn’t supposed to have any part of it. My mind isn’t supposed to recall my dreams of a big wedding with flowers in every shade of pink. Three different flavors of cake. A live band. A throng of family and friends. Of course, the family would not be mine … or most of the friends for that matter.
Zach is offering health insurance and a big bonus of cheap airfare by way of a little legal contract. Marriage. Not a wedding.
When I don’t contribute any more to the conversation other than a frown, Zach stands and gathers the first aid supplies. Before he makes it three feet in the direction of the bathroom, I think of more questions—as if I’m seriously considering his ringless, loveless proposal.
“So … I’d still live here?”
He turns. “Only if you want to. I’d prefer you not live out of your car.”
“And I’d date? Like … married to you but date other men?”
He offers a bemused smile. I don’t like that smile, and by don’t like I mean I love that smile, but it’s not good for me to love anything about Zach since love is not part of the proposal.
“Yes, Emersyn, you can date. It will be like we’re not married, except when you need insurance, you’ll have it.”
“And when I need to fly, I’ll get cheap tickets.”
That bemused smile swells a little more. I don’t care for pity or being the butt of a joke, however, I don’t mind being the source of his amusement.
“If you’re flexible with your schedule, yes, you’ll get cheap tickets.”
“And you?”
“And me what?”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask!
Ignoring the sound advice of my common sense, I ask anyway. “You’ll date too. Right?”
That amusement vanishes from his handsome face. “I lost my wife recently. I have no desire to date. I have health insurance. I have the means to travel if I so choose. This isn’t for me, Emersyn. This is for you.”
Ouch.
The Young and Stupid virus strikes again. When will I try harder to see things through his eyes? Of course, he has no desire to date. Of course, this is all for me. Of course, my stubborn reluctancy is riding his last nerve. I see the endless possibilities in my future, and he can’t stop gazing at the past like it’s the last time he’ll see the sun.
Again, he pivots to return the supplies to the bathroom. I inspect my arms and feel the stiffness in my neck from the healing cuts. This is my life at the moment. I’ll no doubt go on to do great things, but right now … I’m struggling.
I toss my pride onto the floor and squash it with my foot on my way out of the kitchen. “Yes. I’ll marry you,” I say just as he steps out of the bathroom.
Zach eyes me as if I ended my announcement with a comma instead of a period. He’s waiting for the but.
No buts.
I’ll marry him.
I’ll dig myself out of debt.
I’ll find a job.
Maybe even a new husband who loves me.