Page 14 of Savage Love

“So all of themenwill agree with you.” Now I do pull my hand away, knotting both of them together in my lap, feeling my nails bite into my palms. “I wonder what my sister would have to say about it. My mother—”

“I don’t know your mother well enough to say,” Levin says slowly. “But I think I know what your sister’s answer would be.” He takes a deep, slow breath. “The only answer that matters to me, Elena, is yours. I won’t force you to do anything. I will only do what you want me to.”

“You can’t do that.” The words come out as a small, desperate whisper, and I hate myself for them as soon as I hear it, because it feels pathetic. “You can’t love me, and that’s what I want.”

“You don’t love me.” He sounds so sure, so certain. “You don’t, Elena. You love a fantasy that was created in a very trying time for both of us. You love a version of us that existed in a circumstance that doesn’t any longer. You don’t know me—the day-to-day version of me—well enough to love me.”

I swallow hard. “You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. Iknowhow I feel.”

Neither of us says anything for a long moment. The offer hovers between us—Levin’s proposal that isn’t really a proposal at all. A marriage of circumstance, much like the kind of marriage I would have been pushed into at home, if I’d stayed.

Except this is so much worse.

“What does that look like?” I ask softly. “You being a father to this child, us getting married—what does that look like to you? You live and work in New York; I’m here. Where would we live? What would we do? I—”

“Well—” Levin lets out a slow breath. “What do you want?”

It’s never been so hard for me to be asked that question. I should be thrilled that he’s asking it, that he’s taking my opinion so much into consideration. No one else ever has. But at this moment, I have no fucking idea what I want—and the things Idoknow, some of them I can’t have.

I want to keep my–our–baby. That is a decision I can make.

I want Levin to love me. That, I can’t choose for him.

I want him to stay—and he’s offering that, but with terms that make my heart twist in my chest with a fresh, aching pain.

“I want to stay in Boston,” I say softly. “Isabella is here. The only family that I can be close to. My niece is here. I wouldn’t know anyone in New York other than you.”

Levin nods, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to agree, to give me what I’ve asked for. Everything except the one thing I want the most.

I think I would move to New York, if he said he loved me. If he meant it and gave me that to hold onto.

“Viktor and I will have to work some things out,” he says. “But it can be arranged. It’s not as if it’s that far, anyway. I may have to go to New York for work sometimes, but I have access to plenty of ways to make that a quick and easy trip. If you want our home base to be here in Boston, near your family, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Just like that. I look at him, feeling as if I’m entirely adrift. As if I have no idea what to hold onto.

“So we’re getting married?” I ask in a small voice, and he hesitates, then nods.

“Unless you want to tell me no,” he says gently. “I will never force you to do anything. But yes, I–I think that’s what we should do.”

It’s not the proposal I always dreamed of. I can hear the hesitation in his voice even now. But the truth is—I never really dreamed of one at all. I never imagined a world in which I chose who I married. So I’m not sure that it really matters.

If I’m going to have this baby, then Levin should be a part of it—especially if hewantsto be a part of it. And that appears to mean getting married.

“Alright.” I stand up, a little unsteadily, feeling my heart beating in my throat. “We’re getting married, then.”

I can’t read the emotion on Levin’s face as he stands up, too. I can’t tell if it’s happiness or not. I can’t tell whether it’s regret, worry, or just resignation. He reaches for my hands, and for one brief, wild moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.

I want to kiss him. I look up at his chiseled face, at those lips that I know so well, that have been all over every inch of my body, and I want to kiss him so badly it hurts. I’machingto touch him, and I take a step forward, trying to close the distance between us. It seems like a proposal, even one like this, should end with a kiss.

He steps back. “I need to go back to New York,” he says, clearing his throat. “I have a hotel for the night—I didn’t expect that your sister’s hospitality would extend to me any longer, after what Niall said about her feelings towards me, and I didn’t want to put him in the position of offering anyway. I’ll be going back in the morning, but you’ll have my number. Call me or text me if you needanything, Elena. I mean it. Anything at all.”

His hands are still holding mine, but I feel cold. I hear what he’s saying, but I can’t get past the fact that a moment ago, I tried to kiss him—and a moment ago, he pulled away. Backed up, as if touching me that intimately would burn him.

“I’ll be back for your first doctor’s appointment,” he assures me. “And whatever kind of wedding you decide you want, I’ll make sure it’s paid for. Whatever you and Isabella plan. Big, small, it doesn’t matter. You have free rein, Elena.” He pauses, looking down at me, and I can tell he means it. The problem is—that doesn’t matter to me. A wedding doesn’t matter. He’s promising me all the wrong things.

“Whatever makes you happy, I’ll do,” he says softly. I can tell he means that too—or at least, he thinks he does.

The problem is—the thing that would make me happiest, he can’t give me.

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