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She couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly.

“My mother’s final wish was that I get married. That’s why I blurted out that ridiculous proposal three years ago.”

“Y-yeah. I understood that. Back then. But why?—?”

“I have three months left now and so many things I’ve never done. It never felt like there was any urgency before. I’m only twenty-nine. But now…” He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Anything I want to do, I have to do immediately.”

It felt like she was choking again, but fortunately her stomach stayed settled. “And you want to… to marry… me?” Her voice lifted on the last word, making it a strained question.

“I want to get married, like my mom always wanted for me, and you’re the only feasible choice.”

She swallowed. Okay then. This was not any sort of flattering or personal offer. He had no particular attachment to her. She was merely the only available woman he felt comfortable asking.

It made the situation easier to handle. Took the emotional investment out of it completely.

“I know you keep to yourself and avoid people, so you haven’t had much of a dating life lately, but you’re the only son of Harry Gregory. There would be tons of gorgeous single women lining up for the chance to marry you even if it was just for three months.”

“Yes. I know that. But I don’t want that kind of marriage. I want someone who knows me. Who has some understanding of me.” He leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs, holding her gaze intentionally. “And who won’t try to turn the whole thing into a tragic romantic farce.”

“Ah.” That made more sense. He might be offering marriage, but he wanted both parties to understand it was purely practical. Possibly companionable but absolutely not about love. “I see.”

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I honestly don’t care right now. I have three months. I want to travel to a number of places I’ve never been. I want to finish the book I’m writing. And I want to get married. Those three things.” He took a deep breath that lifted his shoulders, then he blew it out. “That’s my list.”

Her throat tightened again. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth, turning her head to stare into the distance. An entire life narrowed down to no more than that. Three items counted on a list. “Oh my God, Jude.”

“I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. That’s another reason I thought about you. I hoped I could trust you to treat me like a person rather than an object of pity. I’ve reconciled myself to reality, Eve, and I’ll be satisfied if I can complete those three things before I die. So will you please help me?”

She stared at him for a long stretch of time, her mind whirling and her heart galloping again.

The idea was ludicrous. Nonsense really. She’d had three boyfriends in her life, but none of the relationships lasted more than a year, and every single one of the guys cited some variation of the exact same explanation.

They could never feel close enough to her.

Jude must have recognized that same quality in her, and it happened to be exactly what he needed.

She’d always been a paradox. A smart, sensible woman who thrived on achievement but was also willing to commit her academic life to an impractical field that would never earn her a high-paying job. She liked being surrounded by pretty things but didn’t care how much they cost. She daydreamed about romance, but her former boyfriends all complained she wasn’t sexy or passionate enough.

She was an introvert and a booklover and an only child and an early riser and a devoted daughter to her father. Articulate and cerebral. Self-sufficient. Aware enough to realize that because of her nature and choices, she might live her entire life alone.

But she’d known Jude for as long as she was conscious of having memories. He needed her. He was dying.

And logic wasn’t enough to hold back the waves of sympathy that were crashing over her.

So she straightened up in her chair. Nodded. “Okay.”

His eyes widened. “Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. I’ll marry you.”

He reached out to pick up both her hands, squeezing them lightly and then holding them in his larger ones. “Thank you, Eve.”

She nodded again and dropped her eyes. The deep earnestness of his expression embarrassed her. And felt like a burden of responsibility she hadn’t expected.

She pushed it aside because that couldn’t matter at the moment. “You’re welcome. So when did you want to get married?”

2

The following day,Jude sat in a conference room in the Carlyle law office across the table from Eve and her father. A pleasant, professional woman in her thirties sat next to him, representing him as they ironed out the prenup.

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