“Isn’t this supposed to happen after a five-course dinner and roses, and...” Her breath ran out and so did Chanel’s words.
“I am not a man who follows other people’s dictated scripts.”
She had no trouble believing that. “Just your own.”
Something passed through his eyes, almost like guilt, but that didn’t make any sense. He might be bossy outside the bedroom a bit, too, but it was nothing to feel guilty about.
Chanel was no shrinking violet that she couldn’t stand up to him if need be.
He moved, and suddenly he was on one knee in front of her, the ring box open and in his palm. “Marry me, Chanel.”
“You... I... This... How can you want... It’s only been a month...”
“Is longer than three dates. I knew I wanted to marry you from the beginning.” There could be no questioning the truth of that statement.
It was there in his eyes and voice. Nothing but honesty. He’d known he wanted her, had never wavered in that belief.
“What about love?”
“Do you love me?” he countered.
She nodded.
“Say it.”
She glared. “You first.”
“I may never say the words. You will have to accept that.”
“If I want to marry you.”
“Oh, you want to.”
She did, but she didn’t understand. “Why can’t you say the words?”
“I can promise you fidelity and as good a life together as it is within my power to make for us. Is that not enough?”
The syntax change was odd and then she realized that as a native Ukrainian speaker, he was using the sentence structure of his first language. Did that mean he was nervous despite how calm and assured he appeared?
She looked at him closely and saw it, that small strain of vulnerability she knew he’d rather she never witnessed. “I do love you.”
“And I will always honor that.”
“I don’t know.”
He flinched, uncertainty showing in his expression for a brief moment before his face closed. “You need time to consider it. I understand.”
He stood up, pocketing the ring. “Lights will be going down momentarily for the play.”
The gulf between them was huge, but she didn’t know what to do to bridge it. She couldn’t say yes right then. She didn’t know if it was enough to never hear the words. Did not saying them mean he didn’t feel the sentiment?
Maybe if he’d tell her why he couldn’t say them, but clearly he didn’t want to.
Still. He wanted to marry her. “Tell me why.”
“Why, what?”
Was he playing dense, or did he really not know? “Why you won’t say the words.”
“I made a promise.”
“To who?”
“The mother of my heart.”
Chanel tried to understand. “She doesn’t want you to get married?”
“Of course she does. She’s very eager to meet you.”
“But she doesn’t want you to love me?” That didn’t sound promising.
“She does not want me to use the words to convince you to marry me. It must be your decision entirely.”
“Is this a Ukrainian thing?”
“We are not Ukrainian. We are Volyarussian.”
Unlike their Ukrainian brothers, the Volyarussians had not been subject to Russian rule and loss of identity. Their ties to the old ways of doing and thinking from their original homeland were probably stronger than in the current Ukraine, but she understood what he was saying.
“Okay, a Volyarussian thing.”
“It is a Yurkovich family thing.”
“Your last name is Zaretsky.”
“My parents never gave up legal rights.”
“You could change your name now.” He was an adult. There was nothing stopping him.
He jolted as if the idea had never occurred to him. Then he smiled. “Yes, I could.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe if you agree to share it, I will change my last name to the one of my heart.”
Those words played through Chanel’s mind as the lights dimmed and the play began. She couldn’t follow what was happening on the stage; she was too busy trying to figure out what was going on in Demyan’s mind.
He’d asked her to marry him. He’d as good as told her he planned to, but she hadn’t let herself believe.
She cast one of many glances in his direction, but his attention seemed riveted by the performance. He’d backed off so quickly, given up so easily.
That wasn’t in character for him. Her certainty on that matter pulled her thoughts short. She’d claimed not to know him. He’d said she knew the man he was at his most basic nature. And she’d taken that to mean sexually.