Page 67 of What's Left of Us

Feelhis anger radiate off of him.

Then I tell him everything.

His face turns from concern to frustration to anger. Each emotion clear in his eyes, flaring his nostrils and twisting his lips. Then, when I’m done talking, silent and worried about what he’ll say, it’s like a wave washes over him, and all that anger just…disappears.

I hold my breath, ignoring the sting in my lungs as I watch him watch me. His face is red and the veins in his neck pulse so badly I worry he’ll combust.

I think about my father’s threats toward him. Can I live with myself if I let him get between Lincoln and the life he’s building for himself? I’m not sure I can.

Letting out a tiny breath, I say, “I don’t want to be the person who holds you back from your future. I’m worried he’ll do something to you if I don’t go. He wasn’t making any sense. That man is not the father I used to know, Lincoln. He’s different.”

He straightens to his full height, his eyes piercing mine for a moment longer before uttering two words: “Marry me.”

I blink slowly, surely not having heard him right. There’s no way I could have.

He taps his chest. “Marry me instead. Not Luca.Me.”

All I can do is stare in disbelief.

“It’s not a romantic gesture,” he offers, no apology in his tone but a softness trying to break through his otherwise hardened expression. “But it’s a genuine one. Marry me, Georgia. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

The rest.Love. Happiness.

A shaky breath escapes my lips. “But his threat…”

“We’ll figure it out later,” he repeats, stepping up to me and cupping my face. His fingers curl around the back of my neck, pulling my head to his. His forehead rests on mine, his breath tickling my lips. “The way I see it, it’s him or me. And I’d like to think being shackled to me wouldn’t be so bad.”

He’s offering to marry me so I won’t have to be tied to Luca Carbone. He’s willing to sacrifice love for…what? Sex? Infatuation? Lust?

It’s him or me.

It’s not exactly a hard decision.

I’ve gotten to know Lincoln pretty well.

His tics.

His habits.

His heart.

The kind of generosity he’s offered is what I would like to think my mother would have wanted for me. Not whatever future my father is set on me having.

“Peaches?” Lincoln asks softly. “I know I’m not the most romantic person, and there’s a lot in life I can’t give you. But I’d like to think I can give you peace, if nothing else.”

Peace.

Chest swelling, I find it hard to swallow.

I don’t know what choices my parents made that led me here, but maybe it was time to make my own from here on out.

So, I find myself nodding.

Because I don’t know what else to do.

To say.

There’s no ring.

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