Chapter 8 #2
Bodie’s jaw flexed, a muscle jumping beneath the skin, and something dark and unreadable flickered across his features. “What if there’s another answer?”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “What possible answer could there be? I’ve already talked to the lawyer, gone over every single word of that damned document until my eyes crossed. The terms are ironclad, and it’s not like I have a husband waiting in the wings somewhere.”
His eyes seemed to darken, growing more intense, steady and unreadable in a way that made something flutter in my stomach. “What if you did?”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard him over the sudden rushing sound in my ears. “What are you talking about?”
“If you got married,” he said, his voice even and controlled, like he was discussing the weather or the town’s budget rather than something that would change the entire trajectory of my life, “would that satisfy the stipulation? Would it solve the problem?”
“In theory, yes. But it’s not like I even have a boyfriend right now, much less someone willing to—”
“Good,” he interrupted, and there was something almost fierce in his tone. “That makes things considerably simpler. Marry me.”
For a moment that stretched like an eternity, I thought I’d misheard him. My brain seemed to flatline, all higher functions shutting down as I stared at him in blank incomprehension.
“Excuse me?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, running a hand through that thick brown hair in a gesture that tugged at far too many buried memories I’d spent years trying to forget.
“Look, Emmaline, what your grandmother did—saddling you with this kind of stipulation—it’s beyond unreasonable.
It’s archaic and unfair and ridiculous. But I don’t see any good reason why you can’t beat the system at its own game. Marry me.”
“You’ve lost your mind.” My pulse thundered in my ears so loudly I was surprised he couldn’t hear it echoing through the bakery.
“I can’t marry you, Bodie. Our families have been feuding for longer than either of us has been alive.
Hell, longer than indoor plumbing has been around.
You—” The words lodged in my throat like broken glass, thick with a decade of carefully nursed anger and betrayal that had become as much a part of me as breathing. “You sent my brother to prison.”
His wince was small but unmistakable. A brief crack in that composed facade he wore like armor.
“Technically, a judge and jury did that. And I know you’ve been furious with me ever since—hell, I know your whole family has been.
I get it, Em. I even understand why. But this wouldn’t be forever, just long enough to settle the estate and make sure you get what you’re rightfully owed.
What your grandmother should have left to you with no strings attached. ”
I set the tea down on the counter with more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the quiet space, afraid my shaking hands would betray just how much his words had rattled me. “This is completely insane. You realize that, right? This is not how normal people solve their problems.”
“Maybe not,” he conceded, his gaze softening into something almost tender, earnest in a way that was physically painful to look straight at.
“But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s a viable answer to an impossible situation.
Let me do this for you. I know it doesn’t begin to make up for what happened in the past, but I can’t just stand by and watch you lose everything because of some outdated clause that should never have been written into that will in the first place. ”
The room seemed to tilt around me, the familiar walls and displays shifting like I was seeing them through water.
I braced both palms against the smooth counter, staring down at the wood grain with its familiar whorls and patterns so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes and see whatever was written there.
He was offering marriage like someone else might offer a ride home from a high school football game—casual as breathing, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But there was nothing casual about the way his words had landed in my chest, nothing simple about the way they’d sent my entire world spinning off its axis.
“What would this even look like?” I whispered. “I mean, if we were crazy enough to actually consider this, what exactly are you proposing?”
He blew out a long breath, raking his fingers through his hair again in a nervous gesture that made him look more like the boy I’d once known than the composed police chief he’d become.
“I’ll be honest with you—I don’t have all the answers worked out yet.
There are a hell of a lot of details we’d need to figure out, logistics to sort through, and we don’t have the luxury of time to plan the thing right this second.
You’ve got customers who’ll be showing up any minute, and I’ve got to get back to the station.
” He paused, his gaze finding mine and holding it with an intensity that made my breath catch.
“Just think about it, okay? Really consider it as an option. And if you decide you want to move forward with this crazy plan, come by my place after work tonight. We’ll hash out all the specifics then. I get off at six.”
Before I could form a coherent response—before I could even manage to catch my breath or string together two rational thoughts—he was already moving toward the door to unlock it.
With one last glance at me, he strode out into the early afternoon sunshine with Rubble trotting at his side, leaving me standing there in the sudden silence.
The bell jingled cheerfully in his wake, its bright sound at odds with the gravity of what had just transpired. The bakery settled back into its familiar quiet, but now it felt different somehow—charged with possibility and weighted with the ghost of old memories that I’d thought were buried.