Chapter 6
Pen
The edges of my vision go blurry. I'm locked on his dark blue eyes. Whatever parts of my brain remember what it was like to be an animal of prey, they make me so immobile I doubt my heart is working either.
If I heard him right, Leon Karlsen, my best friend, proposed marriage to me. Well, it was a command, with that bossy way of his, but—
"We're almost thirty." His deep voice is tentative. Like he's afraid he'll frighten me beyond repair. "This will make your dad happy. It's his own bucket list item, right? And you'll have a cushion for the transition you need—"
"I can't."
My answer opens the floodgates. Where I couldn't feel my heartbeat before, now it's loud and urgent. Blood rushes in my ears and, if I were to put my hands in front of me, I'm sure they would shake. Hell, my legs are trembling, too. Quakes run up and down my spine.
The two words came out of me without thought, but I don't correct them. It's the truth. I shake my head for good measure.
"Yes you can," he insists. "We said we were going to do it."
Oh, God. He's talking about the pact.
As if my heart wasn't working hard enough before, now it's fluttering, too. Hiccuping.
Too much energy runs through my limbs. It has to be tamed somehow. I jump out of my chair and pace from one end of the terrace to the other. Bear stands and tracks my movements.
"Look." I lift my hands in a placating gesture. "I know I came up with the idea back when we were seventeen, but we've grown up."
"I'm not going back on my word. We're single. We're not sure what's going on with your dad, but we know something big is happening and his health is at risk. He wants to walk you down the aisle. I'd be happy to be at the end of it."
"I can't do that to you." I stop in the middle of the space, the fire roaring between us. "Bear, you want forever with someone who wants to be your wife. Real wife. And I— I love you. You know I do. But I— we don't—"
I don't say 'I love you' to him often. Bear himself has never said it to me, though I know he feels the same way. He's shown me. He's showing me right now. I've never needed the words.
"I know it's not like that between us." His tone is somber. "I haven't forgotten."
My mouth opens as if I'm going to point out all the ways in which this is a bad idea. How it will get in the way of what he wants, but my vocal cords don't work. I frown. For a moment, I question whether all of this is really happening.
"Pen, I want to do this with you. I really do."
He looks as earnest as he's ever been. Bear isn't the most expressive of people. A quiet reserve and a bit of seriousness have often confused onlookers. Dry humor and sudden bursts of laughter are usually reserved for his inner circle. But I know him really, really well.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because it's you." He shrugs like it's the easiest truth he's ever shared.
"Bear, I…"
I'm at a loss for words again. A small smile curls one end of his lips. He approaches me slowly, as if he worries I'll run away. Eventually, he's close enough he can put his large hands on my arms. Instead of asking, he only raises an eyebrow so I speak my mind.
"We were dramatic teens at the time," I say. "Or I was, anyway. Desperate to feel like I wasn't falling behind. But I grew up! I don't care about that stuff anymore."
"I don't think I was being dramatic."
"Please. You went and punched the guy the next day!"
"Only time I've ever punched someone." He lifts a dismissive shoulder. "And he punched me first."
The day after our conversation and one kiss, my best friend advanced on Evan like a giant grizzly down the school hallway. The ring Evan wore left the scar marking Leon's lip. It was after that fight that I first called him Bear.
I shake my head. "You got in so much trouble for that."
"He deserved it. Besides, the whole thing pissed me off enough to try for the school's football team a few days later, just to get all that out physically without any more trouble. See where it got me?"
"Fair, but you have to admit to the drama. The way you steamrolled those poor guys for the try outs, with fresh stitches on your lip, those bruises, and a general angry disposition— suddenly half the school was scared of you, and the other half wanted to be near you."
His untrained advance was so impressive, the coach got special mentorships for him and pointed him out to scouts. Meanwhile, no one messed with me or my feelings again. Everyone started calling him Bear, too.
"Can't say I was upset about either one of those," he replies.
I take a deep breath. The detour in our discussion helped calm me down, but it didn't change my mind.
"Bear, I… I can't be your wife. You deserve exactly what you want, and that's not me. I'm not romantic. It was easy to give it all up a long time ago. Don't settle for— for—"
He takes a step closer. His hands squeeze tight. "I'm not settling. I'm also not saying we have to be real husband and wife. I know how you feel about romance and marriage. I know what we have. We can do this as friends."
"As friends? You know it's already a big leap if you want to wait for someone who will be okay with our friendship.
But waiting for someone— I mean, we'd have to divorce, right?
Neither of us has been into exploring polyamory.
The chances of someone who would accept our friendship after being married and divorced is— so minimal and I—"
I can't handle having to watch Bear fall in love with someone to that degree or, worse, seeing him facing a decision between the love of his life and me.
"We can divorce after a while." His voice is deeper than ever.
"Of course. No other way, considering. The thing is, the kind of woman I could fall for would not have an issue with our friendship— hard as it might be to find her.
And I could explain why you and I were married for a while. She'd have to understand that too."
"That's a lot to ask of anybody."
"I will ask. A hundred times over. Because I'm not willing to fail you as a friend by not doing something I promised. Or taking love from someone who can't accept how important you are to me."
"Leon… your standards are so…"
I want to say high, of course. Maybe even unrealistic, but I don't let myself say it. I'm cynical about romance at large but that doesn't make his wishlist wrong. He deserves the kind of love he wants. He just may be looking for a while, which, good for me. In a very selfish way.
"It's valid, is what it is," he argues. "But until I find it, I can use that time to care for you and your parents as I want to. It would make me happy. Pen— it makes sense."
Again, I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. My heart has settled somewhat, even if I can still feel each beat drumming against my chest.
He takes a step closer. One of his hands leaves my arm to run gentle fingers down my hair.
Tenderness shines in his dark eyes. "We can give your dad what he wants. We can do your bucket list and make your dreams come true as well. And after a while, we tell them we tried but discovered we're better off as friends."
"You make it sound so easy."
We are so close now that our bodies touch.
"Why wouldn't it be easy?" he asks. "I care about you.
This is me letting other people see it in a new way— even if they don't know the full truth.
I thought about it all the way here. Remember that genetic testing you wanted to get done to see if you got your dad's kidney problems?
You can do it using my health insurance. Get an MRI too, just in case."
I know what he truly means. He doesn't want to lose me or see me get sick, unprepared and unsupported. He wants to take care of me.
Could I do this? We would have to live together and fake it in front of most people, nevermind how often we've insisted there's nothing like that between us.
We would have to take our relationship as far as being married, legally entwining our lives even more than they already are.
Worst of all, I would have to be careful not to let it confuse me, to the point I start thinking Bear will give up on romance, too.
He takes my face in his hands. "This could help us feel like we're doing something for him, too. For both your parents. We could have a beautiful wedding, Pen."
I gaze at him for a while, chasing my thoughts, pushing away my worries.
"The only wedding I'll have," I say, "and a practice run for you."
"You're not a practice run."
"Bear…"
"I'll marry you like my best friend. Don't they say the best marriages have friendship? We'll go into it knowing it will end some time later, that's all."
I hesitate. We lived together for a few months back in high school. We've traveled together. Sometimes, I spend the night at his place. Something in me knows this will feel different.
His thumb caresses my cheek. "You're my favorite person, Pen."
He doesn't say 'I love you', and this is his way of doing it without using the words.
One day he may not say that to me again, if he finds love and he makes a life with them.
I always knew it would hurt to see him focus on his own family one day in the future, but this way it may hurt more.
Because I will know what it was like, for a while, to have him all to myself.
Like friendship with me was perfectly enough for him, too.
"I'll ask one more time," he says, "just so you know I mean it, but if you really can't see yourself doing this with me… all you have to do is tell me no once more. I won't insist. Nothing has to change. The bucket list can be it."
"It's not that, it's…" I frown. "I'm afraid of what comes after. When you find the woman of your dreams after we divorce… Or what if she shows up while we're still legally together?"
"Oh." He smirks. "If that's your only concern…"
He cradles my head and kisses my forehead.
"I take it you're not worried," I say.
He never is, when it's about us.
He shakes his head. "Not in the least."
"If you're sure…"
Rather than giving me an answer, Leon Karlsen goes down on one knee.