Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You
Chapter 181: Will You…

Chapter 181: Will You...

Rebecca

The hallway feels endless walking out. Every step echoes, and I watch Marcus’s shoulders tense as we pass that closet door. It’s still there. Still broken. I can feel the weight of whatever happened behind that door pressing down on him like a physical thing.

I squeeze his hand tighter. It feels cold in my hand and I know the weather has nothing to do with it.

Outside, Marcus stops and takes a deep breath like he’s been drowning. I don’t say anything until we’re in the car, doors closed, engine running. Safe.

"You okay?" I ask, though I already know the answer. He doesn’t have to tell me.

He grips the steering wheel and stares at the house through the windshield. I follow his gaze. It looks so ordinary from out here. Just a tired old house with peeling paint and dead flowers in the window boxes. But I know now what it holds inside.

"I don’t know," he says honestly. "Ask me tomorrow."

I nod. Don’t push. He’s been brave enough for one day.

He puts the car in drive, but before we pull away, he looks at the house one more time. There’s something final in his expression, like he’s saying goodbye.

"Thank you," he says to me. "For coming with me. For not saying anything. For just... being there."

I turn in my seat to face him. "You don’t have to thank me for that."

"Yeah, I do," he says. "Most people would have run. Hell, most people wouldn’t have come in the first place."

"I’m not most people," I tell him. Seeing him so vulnerable made me realize something. I don’t want to be with anyone else anymore.

He drives slow through the old neighborhood, and I watch him taking it all in. There’s a corner store, a park, a bus stop. Normal things. But I can see him remembering, can see the weight of childhood settling on his face.

"She seems like she’s doing well," I say quietly, thinking of Natalie. The way she looked at Marcus with such love, such forgiveness.

"Better than I thought she’d be," he admits. "Better than I am, maybe."

"You’re doing fine."

He shakes his head. "I left her, Rebecca. When she needed me most, I just...I wanted to escape. I am a horrible person."

My chest tightens. "Don’t say that. You were protecting yourself. And maybe her too, in your own way."

He considers that, and I hope he believes it. Because I think it might be true.

"My therapist used to say that sometimes the kindest thing you can do for someone is to work on yourself first," I continue. "Even if it means stepping away for a while."

"You had a therapist?" he asks.

The question catches me off guard. We don’t talk about our pasts much. Both of us prefer living in the present. "Yeah. Do you think I am always rainbows and sunshine?"

His lips twitch at that. "You make it seem like it."

"There are days I have to close my eyes and count to ten just to keep from falling apart," I admit. The words feel embarrassing and true all at once. "My parents were great. But I’ve always been this...quirky kid. Kids at school made fun of me. They thought I was weird."

Marcus glances at me, his expression softening. "Weird how?" he asks.

I look out the window, watching the suburban streets blur past. "Oh, you know. I collected bottle caps and organized them by color and year. I memorized the periodic table for fun when I was nine. I used to name all the plants in our garden and talk to them like they were pets." I shrug. "I also had this habit of humming movie soundtracks under my breath and quoting random facts at inappropriate times."

"That doesn’t sound weird. That sounds... cute." Marcus grins.

"Try telling that to Jennifer Morrison and her little gang of mean girls," I say, making jazz hands mockingly. "They called me Robot Rebecca because I’d correct their grammar and knew the scientific names for everything. Apparently, saying ’Actually, it’s Canis lupus’ when someone mentions wolves makes you a freak."

His lips twitch. "You still do that."

"Do what?"

"The random facts thing. Last night you told me that honey never spoils and that they found edible honey in ancient Egyptian tombs."

I feel my cheeks warm. "That’s... that’s actually really interesting information."

"It is," he says, squeezing my hand. "I like it. I like that your brain works differently."

My heart does this little flutter thing. "Really?"

"Really. Tell me more about high school."

I fidget with the radio dial even though it’s not on. "Well, I had exactly two friends - Sarah and Josh. And we didn’t even meet until college. We called ourselves the Breakfast Club, which was deeply uncool since that movie was already ancient history. We sometimes had heated debates about whether Batman could actually afford to be Batman in real life." I pause, smiling at the memory. "I did the math once. Turns out being a vigilante is really expensive."

Marcus is grinning now. "Of course you did the math. So...is it the same Josh Hailey is with right now?"

I nod. "Yes. That’s why I am super protective over him."

Marcus lets out a soft laugh. "I get it now. Why you were so mad on his behalf for pursuing Hailey."

I nod, a little sheepish. "Josh doesn’t fall in love easily. And when he does, it’s like this full-hearted, all-in kind of thing. So yeah, I was ready to go full mama bear if you continued to mess with them."

Marcus glances at me. "You really care about people."

"Not people. My people," I say. "Big difference."

He’s quiet for a second, eyes on the road. Then he says, "I care about you too, Becca. A lot."

I smile, but I don’t say anything. Because I am scared if I open my mouth now, he will know the truth. He will see that I might already be in love with him.

We drive in comfortable silence for a while.

"Can I tell you something?" he says eventually.

"Yes," I say.

"I don’t know how to do this," he admits. "How to be with someone who actually...who actually sees me."

My heart squeezes tight. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I’ve spent so long hiding, Rebecca. From everyone. Even from myself sometimes. And you just... you walk into my life and suddenly I want to tell you everything. I want to show you all the broken parts and trust that you won’t leave."

"I won’t. You can tell me anything, Marcus," I say softly.

He looks over, not quite smiling but not as hard-edged as before.

"Okay," he says, that single word a sigh and a promise at once.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, in a small voice. I am still not sure how much I can probe.

He tips his head the tiniest fraction, eyes still closed. "Sure," he says.

"Were you scared?" I mean it about the house, about all of it, but what I really want to know is if I’m the only one who isn’t sure how to survive being together.

His mouth twitches. "I was terrified," he says, still not looking at me, and it’s the truest thing I’ve ever heard him say. "You wouldn’t believe how much it costs me to need someone. To let anyone see that I do."

I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh. He flinches, just for a second, then covers my hand with his. He glances at me, wary and unguarded at once, and I swear I feel the distance between us collapse molecule by molecule.

"You don’t have to be scared of me," I say. Then add, because it’s true, "I won’t ever put you in a closet."

He actually laughs. It’s a jagged sound, but it breaks the tension like sunlight through a cracked door.

"Promise?" he asks, and the smile is so vulnerable it nearly undoes me.

"Promise," I say. "And this time, you can even leave the door open if you want."

He leans in then, and I meet him halfway, the kiss not rough or hurried but very, very gentle, like something valuable handed over without asking for a receipt. When we break apart, neither of us pulls away for a while.

Eventually, he says, "We better get home soon. Megan will think we ran away to join the circus."

I snort. "Be honest. Does she like us together?"

He grins, all sly mischief, but there’s a softness now too. "Yes she does. She told me after breakfast the other morning that if I don’t make this official she’s running for emancipation."

My mouth drops open. I cannot help but laugh.

"Well," I say, straightening. "Then I guess we are making it official. Marcus, will you marry me?" I ask, trying to keep myself from laughing out loud.