Page 18 of The Marriage Deal
She’s not the only one wondering that very same question tonight. We’ve hardly been here a half hour, but I’ve caught the same look from more than one pair of eyes since sitting down.
I’d answer those questions, if I had the answer myself.
Instead, I shoot her a smile and thank her for my food.
I say to Briggs, “The petition means nothing.”
“It means a lot.” My eyes flick up to Briggs again. The man is so unsettlingly hard. So careful with the emotions he keeps boarded up behind those eyes that sometimes leech so much. “It means that what I’m trying to do for Sunset Falls will continually be met with resistance.”
“Whatareyou trying to do with Sunset Falls, exactly?”
“You have a degree in sociology and business,” he surprises me by telling me. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”
I swallow down the edge of unease that bobs in mythroat at the fact he’s clearly looked into me deeper than I care to have anyone look into me, much less a mega rich city slicker like him.
I clear my throat. “I’m not sure, honestly. That’s why I’m asking.”
“That’s disappointing.”
There’s a challenge in his eyes I just can’t let myself ignore. Like a dog poked one too many times, I meet his challenge with just a hint of bite. “I think you’re doing for this town what no one else can do or is brave enough to do. I think you’re trying to bring it back from the brink of collapse. Of failure. Of turning into one of those itty-bitty roadside towns you see passing through on the way to something better. On the way to something that breathes.”
I pull in breath. “You’re making sure Sunset Falls doesn’t become one of those towns with the boarded-up windows kids still aim to toss rocks through. I think you’re trying to ensure that the buildings of Main Street that people take so much pride in painting the prettiest of popping colors aren’t covered by spray paint graffiti. I think you’re doing all that you can to ensure that Sunset Falls stays a dot on the map of mainstream society rather than being absorbed by the aftershocks of forced migration to big city life where living is just freaking easier.”
I don’t mean to say all that I’ve said, and when I’m done, I can’t miss the gleam of something unsettling in his eyes.
“There’s that sociology degree I’ve been looking for.” I feel too seen under the inspection of his green eyes. I lift my wine in an attempt to hide behind the glass.
I want to ask if he’s been looking into me or simply asking around about me. Everyone in Sunset Falls knows what I went to school for, because people in small towns not only ask, but they care to know. And they talk.
I don’t ask because I’m too afraid to face the shame of knowing that he’s looked into me. That he’s seen evidence of the fool I’d so quickly become.
“Sorry.” I don’t know why I’m apologizing. It’s a learned behavior I took up with Michael. One I hate and am trying my best to fix.
I’m still ashamed that I let myself learn it at all. That I didn’t see the manipulations while they were in process. But I suppose the rock doesn’t feel the erosion of the salty sea, either. Like the waves that wash one after another into the stone of a shoreline, the comments of a narcissist drill tiny holes into the soul of their victim until they’re porous and brittle.I am porous and brittle.
That’s why I’m home. I’m trying to stuff all those fragile holes he left inside my soul with the love of my family and this town. With the life I’ve always cherished so deeply before the foundation of it was ripped out from under me.
“Never apologize for passion.”
My eyes bounce quickly back to him. I feel one of those brittle holes squeezing tight with something warm.
I don’t want to feel warm things for this infuriating ice man. “You said you have a job for me, Mr. Alder.”
Maybe it’s the flicker of firelight. Maybe I’m just seeing things. But I swear his eyes darken a shade. “It’s Briggs, Lilah.”
Another clench. Another burst of warmth I shouldn’t let myself feel.
A smile cracks my face. I smile when I’m nervous, so it’s no surprise I’m smiling now. “Briggs…” I wash down the thick of his name with a sip of wine.
He leans into the table, too-seeing eyes on mine as he says low, “I’m proposing that you marry me, Lilah.”
That wine I thought I swallowed…well, I choke on it.
I’m still choking when our waitress arrives to refill our water. Salty tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I cough into a napkin to clear the burn of shock from my chest.
I can’t make myself look at the man. I can’t because I’m absolutely confident he’s playing with me—and I played right into his hand by reacting like this.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Lilah?” Concern clouds Emma’s eyes. “Can I get you something else?” Her eyes drop to the pasta I’ve hardly touched. “Do you not like the alfredo?”
