“Everyone,” he repeats. “Including you.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve already refused my help, though. Repeatedly.”
“But that’s the beauty of my idea,” I insist. “Don’t you see? In this case, the advantage would be mutual. Not just me accepting money from you and offering nothing in return. I’d be helping you out, too. Actively. And not just helping, when you think about it. I’d literally be making the whole donor situation possible. You could literally give away all your money if you wanted to, and your mother would literally have nothing to say about it.”
“You really like the word literally today.”
He’s right. At this point, I may have used the word more in the past two minutes than I have in my entire life. But I’m not wrong either. My proposal would preserve Bridger’s full control of his trust, not to mention every future donation he’d want to make.
Including to Havenwood. “I do like the word,” I say. “And my plan. Literally.”
“So theoretically,” he rubs his chin, “in exchange for your willingness to be my legal wife, you’d allow me to cover thecost of your dad’s living expenses and all his future medical care?”
“Sounds like a fair compromise.” I bob my head. “Because you’d also be free to use your money to fund everything your generous soul dreamed of, while still being the science teacher your heart wants you to be.”
I splay my hands to signal the linchpin of my argument.
“I gotta be honest.” Bridger shakes his head. “This isnothow I saw our conversation going this morning.”
“Well, the alternatives are you losing control of your money. Or marrying Rosalind. And since Rosalind is your mom’s pick, she’s probably more aligned with your mom’s goals than yours.” I hitch my shoulders. “I’m not sure I trust her.”
“Rosalind? Or my mom?”
“Both?" I say. “Neither?”
“You don’t really know them.”
“Doyou?”
His silence is all the answer either of us needs.
“There’s a footnote to my proposal if you’re still not convinced,” I say.
“I can’t wait to hear.”
I spit a loose strand of hair from my face. “I detect the snark in your tone, and that’s because I know you so well, my friend. Which goes hand in hand with a main reason my offer is superior.”
He arches a brow. “All right. I’m waiting.”
“Iwon’t make you stay married to me when youdomeet your future wife.”
At this, he laughs weakly. “What are you talking about?”
“If you married Rosalind, you could be stuck with her for the long haul. Or you could face a messy divorceifshe’s not willing to let you go. But I promise to walk away when youeventually find love later. Because youwillfind love later. You’re a great guy with way too much to offer. I mean, sure, you haven’t found Mrs. Right yet, but she’s going to show up someday. And on that day, I’ll give you your freedom to marry her. Easy peasy.”
Bridger crosses his arms. “Can I assume this sameeasy-peasycourtesy would apply when you meet the man of your dreams?”
“I won’t,” I say, even as something sharp twinges behind my breastbone.
He stills. “You don’t know that.”
“I do, though.”
Something moves behind his eyes, and I slide my gaze away from his. I’ve told him all this before. Him, Sayla, and Dex. “I already planned the wedding,” I say. “I bought the dress. I hung my hopes on a future with Foster. And I’m never putting myself through that kind of emotional roller coaster again. Which makes me a safe bet. Way safer than Rosalind.”
I intentionally leave out the deeper cuts because he’s heard about those, too.