Page 63 of Edge of Secrets

“It would make the game impossible to win,” I said.

“Not for everyone,” Nell replied softly.

A muscle pulsed in my jaw. “What are you saying, Nell? That it’s just impossible for me? Is that what you mean?”

“I didn’t say that,” she said.

“But you meant it. Come on. Just say it. No symbolism. No metaphors. Could I have it in plain English just this once?”

Nell wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. “I think we understand each other perfectly,” she said.

I circled the couch and sat down next to her. This was probably futile, given her unapproachable mood, but I had to get it off my chest.

“You’re cold,” I said, grabbing the afghan off the couch. I wrapped it around her. “I don’t want to talk about the game right now. We need to talk about us. I’ve been thinking.”

“Me, too,” Nell said.

“I’ve decided that the best thing would be for us to get married.”

Dead silence greeted that statement. Her eyes were huge and startled. “What?”

I cracked my knuckles uneasily. “I was thinking about the situation after you went to sleep. And I decided that?—”

“You decided?” Her voice was deceptively calm. I paused, sensing a pitfall.

“Well, uh, of course your agreement is crucial to the plan,” I said cautiously.

“So I should hope,” Nell murmured.

“After I explain my reasoning, you’ll see that it would be the best thing for both of us.”

“Oh, really. Will I?” Nell’s voice sounded almost strangled.

“Yes. Let me explain.” I presented my analysis, during which Nell was ominously silent. The chill in my gut was a lump of ice by the time I concluded my well-balanced, watertight, foolproof case for marriage.

Nell tugged the afghan around herself and looked into my eyes. “Do you love me, Duncan?” she asked baldly.

I closed my eyes, sighing. Aw, fuck. She had to say it. She just had to insist.

“Goddamn it, Nell,” I snapped, “that’s not the point.”

Nell shook her head. “I think it is the point,” she replied. “In fact, I think it’s the only point.”

“Marriage is about partnership. Trust. The long haul. Not a bunch of stupid platitudes that don’t mean a goddamn thing! If I had you on staff full-time, we could?—”

“Duncan, you’re not going to hire me onto your staff,” she said wearily. “I’ve studied for years for my advanced degree. I want to teach literature, and write. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

I threw up my hands. “You’re being deliberately difficult. Tell me what you’d make as a professor. I’ll top it.”

“If I wanted money, I would’ve gone to business school.”

“We’re straying from the issue,” I ground out. “We’re good together. If you would just loosen up a little with your lofty romantic ideas?—”

“Marriage is not a merger. Love is not a stupid platitude. If I was as detached and cool as you are, it might work. But I’m not.” Her voice faltered for a moment. “I’m in love with you,” she finished.

Love. Jesus, all I wanted was to be honest with her. To be fair and completely on the level, to not lie or manipulate her with any kind of falsehood or facile bullshit. That took effort, it took rigor. It was a sign of deep respect and consideration. And this was what I got for it. My chest felt like it was in a trash compactor, getting squished into something small and cold and hard.

Nell rewrapped the afghan around herself. “And the worst part is, I think you love me too—but you can’t, or won’t see it.”

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