Chapter 29 He puts me first.
Vivienne's POV
His words hung in the air between us, and I found myself searching his face for answers to questions I hadn't even fully formed yet.
"Us," I repeated softly, the word feeling strange and wonderful and terrifying all at once. "When did we become an 'us'?"
He pulled back slightly, letting out a breath that was almost a laugh, though his hand remained on my waist, his thumb tracing these little circles against my shirt that were driving me crazy.
"I don't know," he admitted, and there was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable that I'd only heard maybe twice before in all the weeks I'd known him.
“Maybe we've always been heading toward this? Maybe I've just been too stubborn of not wanting anyone until now, until; God, until I had an excuse.”
“So this fake proposal—” I started, but he cut me off, shaking his head.
"It started as something practical, yeah. A solution to a problem I'm in." He paused, and I watched him struggle with the words, his jaw clenching and unclenching.
"But I'd be lying through my teeth if I said that was the only reason. I'd be lying if I said the idea of being married to you, even if it's supposed to be fake, it didn't make me feel..." he trailed off, looking almost embarrassed. "I don't know. Something.”
My heart was doing somersaults in my chest. This whole conversation felt surreal, like I'd wake up any moment and find out I'd fallen asleep on my couch watching Netflix.
"You're really not making this easier," I said, but I was smiling despite myself, despite the chaos in my head.
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this." He laughed, actually laughed, and it broke some of the tension. "I'm trying to be honest for once instead of playing it cool or whatever. I'm so tired of playing it cool."
"What do you mean?" I asked, even though part of me knew exactly what he meant.
"Come on," he said, giving me a look. "You
telling me you want to think about it is really not nice at all, I don't know how long it will take you but I don't think I have the patience to wait for that long.”
He gestured vaguely between us, "—that energy or whatever you want to call it that's in the air right now is putting ideas in my head.”
"Oh," I said, the words couldn't form.
"Yeah. Oh." His smile was crooked, self-deprecating. "I've been telling myself for months that I could handle whatever conditions my family gives me until that day that I got shot.”
He stood up and went to the window.
My throat felt tight. "And now?"
"Now I'm done pretending to be strong, I guess," he said, his voice softer as he turned around to look at me.
“Oh! You're a strong mister!”
"He laughed, and I felt it rumble through his chest.
His expression shifted, became more serious. "But I meant what I said before. Take your time. Think about it. All of it. I don't want you to feel like I'm putting you into corner or something."
"Even though you just kissed me?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Especially because I just kissed you," he said, and he actually looked a bit sheepish. "I don't want you deciding anything because of chemistry or—or heat of the moment stuff.
This matters too much." He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "You matter too much."
"Can I ask you something?" I said quietly.
"Always."
"If I say no to the marriage thing, but yes to... whatever this is between us. Would that be okay? Would that be enough?"
Something flickered across his face—hope, maybe, mixed with something that looked almost like pain. He was quiet for a second, really thinking about it.
"Honestly? Two weeks ago I would've said yes in a heartbeat. I would've taken anything, any version of you in my life."
He took a breath, and I watched his chest rise and fall. "But I can't lie to you. Not now. I really do need the marriage thing, for the work stuff I told you about.
My company, my shares, my position as the CEO and my reputation as well. And pretending that doesn't matter would just be setting us up for disaster later."
"So we're back to the practical reasons," I said, and I couldn't quite keep the disappointment out of my voice.
"No, hey…" his hand tightened on my waist, pulling me a fraction closer. "Listen to me. Yeah, I need this arrangement for practical, legal, incredibly boring reasons that I wish didn't exist.
But what I want…” he paused, his eyes locked on mine so intensely I forgot to breathe, "—what I actually want is just you. However I can have you.
If it's a marriage that starts out fake but feels real to both of us, then okay. If you can't do the marriage but you want to try this anyway, then we'll figure it out."
"What about your company?" I pressed.
He sighed, let his head fall back against the couch for a second. "I'll find another way."
I stared at him, trying to process what he was actually saying. He was willing to give up the easy solution, the one that would solve all his problems but rather than pressure me into something I wasn't sure about. Even though I'd heard the desperation in his voice earlier, when he'd first brought this whole crazy idea up, he was backing off. Putting me first.
"You really mean that," I said, and my voice came out smaller than I intended.
"Every word," he said simply, and squeezed my hand.
I sat back a little, needing space to think but not quite ready to let go of him completely. He seemed to understand, his hand sliding from my waist but catching my other hand, so we were sitting there holding hands like teenagers, which should've felt silly but somehow it didn't.