What Were You Expecting? (8 page)

“Nah, I don’t mind coming back for it later.” He shoved his keys back into his pocket and as they started back toward town, he readjusted his grip on her hand, making a shiver run up her arms as their palms fused together again.

She sighed shakily. “That was—”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a…crazy idea…that you and I…”

He was quiet beside her.

“He must have thought that we were—I mean,
I’d
never ask you to—”

“I know,” he murmured so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. His profile looked square and stern as the streetlights bounced off the planes of his high cheekbones.

“Thank you for going with me,” she said.

“Anytime.”

She scoffed bitterly, more at the situation than at him. “Anytime I’m about to get deported, you’ll join me for a legal consult, eh?”

“What’re friends for?” he asked lightly.

She winced in the darkness, clenching her teeth together. She thought about flexing her hand open to release his, but she didn’t. They walked in silence for several more minutes, their boots scuffling along the sidewalk.

“A green-card marriage,” she said softly beside him, more to herself than to him.

He stopped them for a moment, then crossed in front of her, and turned to face her. “No point in getting sick.”

She kept her eyes trained on his, but he kept his down, staring at their hands. Finally he unlaced his and moved his fingers to the front of her coat, pulling the sides together, his big fingers needing an extra second to manage the little white zipper. As he zipped it up, his eyes lifted to hers, and she almost gasped from what she saw there in the light of the dim streetlamp. Such longing, such sadness, such regret.

What happened to you?
she wondered, as she often had before. Why was there such deep sadness behind his blue eyes?

“I wish…” he started, his fingers still holding her zipper, the warmth of his hand touching the skin of her chin as his stricken eyes beseeched hers for understanding. “I wish I could…”

A wave of anger and frustration overcame her, making her nostrils flare and her jaw clench. In that moment she realized how much she wanted him to do this for her—marry her. Yes, for the sake of a green card, but also because she loved him. She wanted him, and she didn’t care how she got him, so long as he ended up hers. How pathetic, she thought bitterly with a heap of self-loathing. He was ready to push her away, and all she wanted was to stay with him.

She stepped back from him and lifted her chin in fury and hurt, in defiance of everything unspoken that existed between them, everything that he refused to acknowledge. She tried to swallow back the heartbreak as she realized that, for the first time she could remember, Nils Lindstrom wouldn’t be swooping in to save her. His eyes said it all: this time, she was on her own…and it made her heart ache like someone had reaching into her chest and squeezed it.

“Dinna worry yourself, Nils. I can take care of myself,” she said in a low voice, hating how contrived the lightness sounded in her own ears. She shoved her hands into her pockets, staring up at him with all the courage and bravado she could muster. “Just so you know, I plan to ask Paul to marry me.”

Then she stepped around him and continued walking home on her own.

***

She might as well have punched him in the throat. As she made her declaration, he inhaled a huge breath of cold air so fast, it burned his lungs and his words came out in a wheeze as he whipped around to follow her.

“Wh-what
? Wait a goddamned minute. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m not leavin’. I dinna see any other option.”

“If you go back to Scotland, you can renew your visa and still come back in—”

“Three years!” She scoffed. “Didn’t you hear? It could be
three years
before they renew my visa. And who’s goin’ to run my business in the meantime?”

“It might not be three years. It might just be a few months. You can hire someone to manage things until you get back.”
And I’ll be here when you come back. And everything can go back to normal.

“You think I have that kind of money? To hire someone indefinitely while I sort out my legal affairs?”

“You can lease the business.”

She stopped in her tracks, whipping around to face him. “It was my aunt’s business. I’ll not sign it over to someone else. Even temporarily.”

Heat seeped into his face and desperation overcame him. “Lars and I can—”

“Dinna be ridiculous. You haven’t the time. Besides, I’d never ask my
friends
to—”

“You’re
not
marrying Paul,” he thundered, seizing her eyes with an anguish he could only remember feeling once in his whole life. Losing her to Scotland for a few months was one thing. Losing her to Paul was another. He couldn’t explain what was happening inside of his body—the despair, the freakish fury, the ludicrousness, the single, searing thought that he might have to murder Paul. He reached out to put his hand on her waist to pull her closer to him.

“Nae!” She stepped out of his grasp, her accent ramping up with her agitation, as it always did. She started walking again, talking over her shoulder. “Ye have no say in this, Nils. We’re
friends
, but I dinna let my friends tell me what I can and canna—”

He sped up and blocked her path, facing her, his body like a wall before her.

“Maggie,” he begged.

She stepped forward deliberately, her breasts pushing up against him, her eyes narrow and challenging as she looked slowly up his chest to capture his. She was a full foot shorter than him, but she was holding her own and if he wasn’t so upset about her unthinkable suggestion to marry
Paul
, he would’ve admired the hell out of her.

“You’re
not
marrying Paul,” he repeated in a growl, reaching forward to grasp her arms.

“I wish…I wish I could…” She used his halting words to mock him, but the tears flooding her eyes betrayed her.

“I won’t let you do it,” he said in a low, uncompromising voice that didn’t even sound familiar to him.

“Won’t
let
me? Ha! It’s not for you to say, laddie…” she protested, poking a finger into his chest before stepping around him to start walking again on her own.

Nils knew full and well that Maggie and Paul were only friends, but every cell in his body revolted against the possibility of Maggie marrying Paul. He couldn’t let it happen. Even on paper, he couldn’t watch it happen without a fight.

That man needs to bed me or wed me…

You’d get married and your spouse—Nils—would file for a green card.

Beck had said it so matter-of-factly. Like it was possible. Like it could actually happen. Nils clenched his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. They should have set Beck straight that there was nothing between them but friendship. Because regardless of the feelings that snapped and popped like static electricity between him and Maggie, they
were
only friends. Until last night, he’d never touched his lips to her skin. Until this morning, he’d never held her in his arms. Until this evening, he’d never held her hand.

And yet, from the moment Beck had made the suggestion, deep inside, the fantasy had taken root. Maggie as his wife. Maggie Lindstrom. His wife. His.

His heart pounded to the rhythm of her boots marching away from him and his head started to droop in defeat behind her. It was such a slice of heaven to imagine it: Maggie belonging to him, coming home to her every night, waking up to her sweet face every morning, a child with her red hair—

Stop right there! No! No children. Absolutely not.

He
couldn’t
marry Maggie. He couldn’t marry anyone. Marriage meant sharing a home and a bed. It meant families entwined and—God forbid—the possibility of children. It meant pain. It meant hurting her and the probability of losing her. Veronica’s face appeared briefly in his mind and he winced. He couldn’t risk Maggie. He wouldn’t.

He sucked in a boatload of air, exhaling a long puff of misty breath into the chilly evening, forcing himself to calm down.
A green-card marriage. A green-card marriage.
His hands had fisted tightly by his sides, but as he mulled over the words “green-card marriage,” they started to relax.

This wouldn’t be a
real
marriage. It would be a
green-card
marriage just so Maggie could stay in Montana. That’s all. He took another deep breath as his heart stopped racing. He’d never end up hurting her as he had Veronica because they wouldn’t actually be together. It’s not like they’d ever live together, let alone sleep together. No, of course not. He’d just be giving her his name, allowing her to stay in Gardiner. Heck, nobody even needed to know about it; they could get quietly married, she’d get her green card, and they could get quietly divorced in two years. They could stay friends, Maggie could stay in Gardiner and no one would end up getting hurt. In fact, nothing had to change.

He turned and sprinted to catch up with her. “Mags! Maggie!”

He was pretty sure she sped up a little when he said her name. “You can’t tell me what to do!” she threw over her shoulder.

“Maggie, stop!” He reached out and grabbed her hand as it swung back, holding it firmly but gently, until she stopped and turned around. Her face glistened in the moonlight, pale and freckled and covered with tears, and seeing her so sad made his heart squeeze with a panic that had nothing to do with what he was about to ask her. He couldn’t bear to see her so upset and know that he—partially—owned some of the blame. He hoped his next words would fix that. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it instead of Paul.”

“Dinna do me any—”

“I want to.”

“Oh, stop it! You dinna want—”

“Yes I do.”

“No. You dinna want to. I saw your face in Beck’s office. I saw your face when you zipped up my coat.”

“Twenty minutes ago a lawyer suggested we get married. Could you maybe give me a minute to get my head around it? Christ, woman! It might be for a green card, but it’s still a marriage!”

She took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. Her eyes darted down to where he stroked her palm with his thumb, furrowing her brows as if surprised to see he was holding her hand again. They both watched his thumb slide back and forth for a moment before slowly looking back up at each other. When her bright, shiny eyes caught his, Nils Lindstrom was pretty sure that Maggie Campbell—in that moment when he was asking her to be his wife, even if it was just on paper—was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Ever. In his whole life. His heart swelled with feelings so deep and true, his eyes stung.

“Let me do it,” he insisted softly. “Let me do it for you.”

“Why?” she sobbed.

He shrugged, offering her a careful smile. “Because I want to.”

Her eyes widened.

“What are you sayin’?” she asked, her voice unsure and hopeful and nervous all at the same time.

“I’m just—all I’m saying is…don’t marry Paul.” His fingers laced themselves through hers again so naturally, it was as though they’d done so for a thousand lifetimes. “Marry
me
.”

“I need to know
why
you’re doin’ this.” Her eyes searched his face. “And don’t say it’s because we’re friends, because I’m friends with Paul, too.”

He swallowed. After last night, he knew what she wanted to hear, and part of him wanted to tell her.
I want you. I need you. I’m crazy about you. I care so much for you, I can’t get you out of my head and if you’re going to be anyone’s wife—even if it’s on paper only—you’re going to be mine.
But, if he did, he could never take it back. He’d only be confusing things between them further. He’d be giving her the hope of a real marriage when it was something he’d never be able to offer her. Instead he cocked his head to the side and shrugged.

“I like helping you. I like…you.”

“That’s all?”

“Beck saw us together. It was his idea and he’s the one who’ll marry us. If he’s ever called to testify as to the legitimacy of our marriage, he can say we were together from the beginning. The story will play better if it’s me.”

She flinched, her eyes glistening and crushed in the moonlight, and for a brief, insane moment, he had an urge to take it back and tell her the truth. But that wouldn’t be fair, so he forced himself to stay silent. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, moving back to his position beside her and tugging her forward to resume their walk.

They crossed over the Gardiner Bridge, which spanned the icy cold Yellowstone River, and Nils gave her the time and space to figure out her answer. His heart thumped with each step they took, hoping she would say yes to his proposal. He couldn’t give her his heart, but in this one way he could offer her something she wanted, he could keep her safe, he could do something important for her. If she’d let him.