Chapter 15
chapter
fifteen
Evelyn
I think I’m in love.
Mike’s words had slipped out so casually last night. They hadn’t been a confession, not really. Still, they kept replaying in my mind.
“I want to always be honest with each other,” I tell him over coffee the next morning.
“Well, yeah, I want that too,” he says.
I swallow my fear and just come out with it. “Okay, so you said something last night and I know it wasn’t a confession. But I keep thinking about it and I wanted you to know.”
“Because you think it’s too soon?" he asks, voice rough.
I stare at him. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, in my fingertips, in the spaces between my ribs.
"You just—" I swallow. "You said—"
"I know what I said." He shifts in his seat at the dining table.
His hair is mussed, his lips swollen from our brief make-out session while our eggs were cooking.
"I didn't mean to say it like that. In the middle of intimate times.
At least not for the first time. I had a whole plan. Words. Possibly a speech."
"A speech?"
"I'm a CEO. I prepare remarks. And I’m on the spectrum, so I go over said words ad nauseam.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, surprised and a little hysterical. "You had remarks prepared?"
"Talking points, at least." His mouth curves, but his eyes stay serious.
“Will you share them with me now? Your talking points?”
He's quiet for a moment. Then he shifts our chairs, so we're facing each other, our knees touching.
"I've been thinking," he says slowly, "about what happens when the six months are up."
My stomach drops. "Oh."
He reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. "I sent an inquiry to my attorney to see if we could add a clause to the prenup.”
Everything in my feels like it withers. Oh God, he regrets last night. Regrets me.
"I know this started as an accident. A mix-up. A series of ridiculous coincidences that somehow put you in a wedding dress in Vegas with a stranger who was supposed to marry someone else."
"When you put it like that, it sounds insane."
"It is insane," he agrees. "It's completely bonkers. And I don't care."
His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. Slow. Deliberate. Like he's trying to memorize the feel of my skin.
"I don't want an expiration date with you," he continues.
"I don't want to count down the days until you’re allowed to walk away.
I want—" He stops. Takes a breath. "I want to wake up next to you without doing the math on how many mornings we have left. I just want you. Every day. For as long as we both shall live.”
My eyes sting. "Mike—"
"I know it's fast," he says quickly. "I know you've just gotten out of another relationship.
I know you have every reason to be careful, to protect yourself, to not trust someone who says all the right things after knowing you for such a short time.
" He squeezes my hand. "I know all of that. And I'm still asking."
"Asking what?"
"For a chance." His voice is steady, but I can see the slight tremor in his jaw. The way he's holding himself together by sheer force of will. "A real chance. Not an arrangement. Not a prenup with an expiration date. Just... us. Figuring it out together."
I don't know what to say.
No—that's not true. I know exactly what I want to say. The words are right there, pressing against my teeth, desperate to escape.
But there's another voice too, the one that sounds suspiciously like butthole Kurt, whispering that this is too good to be true. That I'm too much, too needy, too naive for believing someone could want me this completely.
"You don't have to answer right now," Mike says, reading my silence. "I'm not asking you to say it back. I'm just asking you to let me try. To let me show you that I mean what I say and I know what I want.”
"And if I need more time?"
"Then I'll wait." He says it simply, like it's obvious. Like waiting for me is the easiest thing in the world. "I'm not going anywhere, Evelyn. That's the whole point."
A tear slips down my cheek. I swipe at it impatiently.
"I'm sorry," I manage. "I don't know why I'm crying. This is stupid. You're saying all these beautiful things, and I'm just—"
"Hey." He cups my face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears. "You're not stupid. You're feeling things. That's allowed."
"I'm scared," I admit, the words barely audible. "I'm scared of wanting this—wanting you—as much as I do."
He nods.
"What if I mess it up? What if I'm too much? Too intense? Too—"
"You're not too anything," he interrupts firmly. "You're exactly enough. More than enough. You're—" He laughs, shaking his head. "You're everything I didn't know I was looking for. And I spent years convincing myself I wasn't looking at all."
I hiccup out a laugh that's half sob. "That's very romantic."
"I told you. I had remarks prepared."
"The CEO thing."
He shrugs. “It’s really more of the autistic thing, but yeah."
We sit there for a moment, foreheads almost touching, breathing the same air. My heart is still racing, but it feels different now. Less like panic, more like anticipation.
"I think," I say slowly, "I might love you, too."
His breath catches. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I smile.
“Does that mean I can say it now for real?”
“Sure.”
“I love you, Evelyn.”
"It's terrifying."
"Good." He kisses me softly. "That means we're doing it right."
"Is that a thing? Being scared means you're doing it right?"
"I have no idea. I've never done this before." He grins. "But it sounds good, doesn't it?"
I laugh, and this time it doesn't feel hysterical. It feels like relief. Like finally letting myself breathe after holding it in for too long.
"So what happens now?" I ask.
"Now?" He pulls me into his lap, arranging us so I'm tucked against his chest, his chin resting on top of my head. "We stop treating this like something temporary. We just... be married."
"Be married," I repeat. "Like, for real."
"For real. For as long as you'll have me."
I close my eyes, letting his heartbeat steady mine.
For as long as I'll have him.
“Forever sounds just about right,” I say.
He kisses the top of my head. “Precisely what I was thinking.”