Page 12 of Attached At Heart
Oh. My. God.
“No,” I admitted when I found my voice. “Not bad for a husband.”
That was exactly the problem, though.
And precisely why I hadn’t told him about any of this before.
Because of course Blake would offer to fake-marry me if he’d known what I’d needed. I would have thought he’d need at least alittlemore time to think about it, but he was just that kind of friend. When I’d told him in med school that I was a hands-on learner, he let me draw all over his body and then hadn’t even complained when he realized I’d used a permanent marker. He’d had “frontalis” written on his head for nearly a week. I bought him a whole selection of hats out of guilt.
But I couldn’t fake-marry Blake.
Blake wasn’t the kind of guy you fake-married. He was the kind of guy you married-married. I knew that because he’d been looking for someone to marry since I’d met him. He wanted that life, that settled-down, minivan life. I couldn’t let him postpone it for me.
“So it’s settled.” Blake clasped his hands together in front of him on the table as though it was as simple as that. “We’re getting married.”
The waiter took that moment to reappear with our wine, pouring us both a glass as Blake and I sat staring at each other, a heavy silence hovering overhead. As soon as his glass was full, Blake picked it up almost lazily, an air of indifference in the movement like he wasn’t freaking out at what he’d just proposed. He lifted the glass higher, like a toast. “Cheers,” he said lightly.
I shook my head, struggling to understand how he could be so calm about this.
He understood that he’d justproposed, right?
Oh my God, Blake London just proposed to me.
I mean, he didn’treallypropose.
I knew that.
But my mind wasn’t connecting with the rest of my body, which was reacting like he reallyhadproposed. If I couldsomehow get my rapid pulse to slow, maybe I’d be able to process this like a rational person.
The problem was, though, that this wasn’t rational. This was…impossible. This wouldn’t work. Most of all, it wouldn’t befair. To him.
Blake wanted to save me. That was the person that Blake was. Someone who wanted to save others, saveeveryone. But he didnotneed to do this.
I cleared my throat and said his name with as much authority as I could muster. Because he liked to tease and goad, at least with me, but I needed him to be serious for one goddamn minute.
“Blake.”
He lowered his glass and cleared his throat, mimicking me.
“Delaney.”
His tone was as serious as mine, low and almost gravelly. But something danced in his eyes.
“I know you’re trying to help, but we can’t…” I sighed because I truly wished it could just be that easy. But it just wasn’t. “We can’t get married.”
Blake nodded like he’d expected me to say that and took another sip of his wine as he thought. That teasing spark had died from his expression, and now he was considering me more carefully.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you needed to get married to access your inheritance. That’s what you told me earlier.”
I pursed my lips before admitting, “You’re not wrong.”
“And that’s why you were going to marry Long, correct?”
I didn’t miss the slight bitterness with which he said Austin’s name but decided it was better not to comment on it.
“Correct.”
“But you can’t marry me?” Blake questioned, giving me a look that, if I wasn’t mistaken, harbored a bit of wounded pride.
