He dragged a hand through his hair. He suddenly looked haggard and tired, worn down by the dark emotion that flowed between the two of them.

“I still want to marry you,” he quietly admitted.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The admission was stark, so plainly and painfully laid out. Almost as if he wasn’t happy with the truth of the words but said them all the same. He stared at her, his discomfort growing by the second.

She stared back, baffled and unable to form a single-word response to his declaration.

He didn’t love her. Didn’t trust her. He believed the absolute worse about her. All he seemed willing to accept was that her child was his—and only because his brother had claimed to have worn a condom.

But he wanted to marry her.

She laughed.

It was a hysterical, shrill, unpleasant sound.

His eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t exactly the reaction I’d hoped for.”

Her own eyes widened. “Was that a proposal?”

She swallowed the laughter this time because he was wearing an extremely dark, agitated look.

He gripped the back of his neck. “No, yes, maybe. I’d like that to be where we end up. But we’ve got a long way to go before we get there. I just want you to say that you still care. Enough to want to stay and work things out. We’ll take it slow. One day at a time. I won’t let anything happen again like what happened at lunch.”

“And how are you going to do that?” she asked softly. “How can you make your family or your acquaintances accept me? And they don’t, Ryan. You always told me I imagined it, but let’s be honest here. Your mother couldn’t stand me. Your friends couldn’t understand what you saw in me. And it’s obvious your brother thought I was unfaithful. An opinion you adopted.”

He rose abruptly. She slid off his lap and onto the mattress as he stood by the bed, his hand still at his nape.

“You said you didn’t want to talk about the past. Either we’re going to or we aren’t, but none of this pick and choose your shots.”

He dropped his hand and then leaned over her, planting his hands on either side of her legs. “Just answer the question, Kelly. Are you going to stay? Do you even want to try? Are you willing to work this out so that maybe we can be happy together again?”

He asked it as though it was something she could answer immediately. It wasn’t a simple matter. No matter which way she answered, she would be hurt.

She licked her lips. Her heart screamed at her that she was an idiot to get involved with him again. Her head told her that without trust their relationship was doomed from the start, and he’d already proved he had absolutely no faith in her.

Was she willing to put herself in a position where everyone else’s word would be taken above her own?