“Because I want the Army to have to call me if, heaven forbid, something happened to you. I want to be the person a doctor has to ask to treat you. I want you to wear a ring. I want to be your husband.”
“And it doesn’t matter what I want?”
“Of course it matters. I just need you to make me understand why you don’t want that.”
“I told you already, it doesn’t work for me.”
“Because of why?”
“Because of my job,” he yelled.
We’d been going round and round for weeks. He was sick to death of talking about this. The difference was, I kept hoping he’d wake up one morning with a completely changed opinion on the subject. I was waiting for a miracle.
“Ian—”
“You’re going to impact what I do and who I am because you wanna play house!”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” I asked icily.
Instantly his hands went up. “Okay. That was shitty, but c’mon.”
“Come on what?” I demanded.
“Why do I have to explain myself to you? Why are you pushing alluva sudden?”
“I—”
“Why’s it so important that we get married?”
“Because I love you.”
He moved fast, into my space, hands on my face, staring into my eyes. As always, love and desire and heat all swirled together and nearly stopped my heart. I wanted him desperately.
“I love you too, M, but being married is not in the cards for me.”
“But it would be if I were a woman.”
He dropped his hands and stalked across the kitchen, pivoting around before leaving completely. “Why do you say shit like that?”
“It’s true, though. If I were a woman, you’d marry me. There’d be no problem then.”
“But you’re not.”
“No.”
“So the question is stupid.”
I was quiet for a long moment, and so was he, before I said, “We need to just forget this. I’m tired of fighting about it, I’m sorry I ever fuckin’ brought it up.”
He shrugged. “But you can’t change how you feel and neither can I.”
“So then what?” I began, holding my breath like I’d been doing around him lately. My stomach was tightening and twisting into knots with incredible regularity because of Ian Doyle. But it was better to finally ask and hear his answer so we both knew where we stood. Wondering, imagining the worst-case scenario, none of that was productive. It was cowardly, and tiptoeing around the elephant in the room was no good for anyone. My body went cold, hands fisted at my sides as I croaked out the question. “You’re just gonna leave?”
“Leave?”
Quick inhale. “Walk out, bail, ask to be deployed for like—ever. I dunno.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To get away from me.”
“And why would I wanna do that?”
He seemed genuinely confused and I took that as a good sign.
“To give us both time to sort things out.”
“Fuck that,” he growled. “I don’t run away and I’m not leaving you, so you can figure out a way to live without me. That’s—”
“I don’t ever wanna live without you, that’s the whole fuckin’ point!”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so I guess you’re just gonna be miserable for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not miserable,” I muttered under my breath.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Listen. I’m not leaving, either, that’s not what partners do.”
“How would you know?” he volleyed. “All you’ve been thinking about is yourself and what you want. What you have to have to be happy.”
“Ian—”
He shook his head. “You can’t want a change and not think about the consequences. I know what I can do, what I can give and still be me. I thought you’d ask before you went ahead and threw out ultimatums.”
“I never threatened you,” I insisted.
“Oh no?”
“Fuck no! I said what I wanted, but that was all.”
“That wasn’t all. How could that be all?” He crossed his arms, in his battle stance, ready to fight. “You asked me to marry you; you had a ring and everything.”
“And you said no,” I husked, feeling the pain all over again.
I had made his favorite meal, the beef stroganoff he loved, and then in the kitchen, right about where I was standing now, I had gone down to one knee, and with the plain thick platinum band, asked him to spend the rest of his life with me. His face, in that moment, had turned my blood to ice. I saw fear there, pain, not a trace of happiness, not a drop of joy.
“Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But why do I have to wear a ring to do it? Why is that bullshit important?”
“If I was a woman, would it still be bullshit?”
No answer.
“See,” I sighed. “Marriage is what straight people do, right?”
Still silence.
“Do I not deserve to be married?”
“I just don’t understand why you want to be.”
“Because I love you.”
“Love me, M, not a piece of paper that says you have to.”