Page 29 of Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire

"Holy shit."

"I know." I'm grinning now, can't help it. "She's diabolical. In the best possible way."

"What else?"

I think about the way she looked in that ivory dress. The way she bit her lip when she was nervous. The way her whole face changed when she really smiled—not the polite smile, the real one that made her eyes crinkle at the corners.

"She spent over a year with a guy who made her feel boring," I say, and my voice goes quieter. "Predictable. Like she was taking up too much space. He literally made her sleep on the couch in her own house because he 'needed time to think.' And she just... accepted it. Like she believed she deserved it."

"Sounds like an asshole."

"He had a magnet on the fridge that said Live, Laugh, Lift. Just that. Nothing else, no take-out menus or magnet from his dentist.”

"Christ. He’s one of those.”

"Right?" I exhale. "But here's the thing—she's not broken. She's not bitter. She stood in that guy's doorway today and told him off, demanded the sixty dollars he owed her, and walked out like she was shedding a skin. And then she laughed about the spice cabinet thing in my car like it was the funniest thing she'd ever done."

Mitchell is quiet for a beat. "She sounds resilient."

"She is." I stare at the ceiling. "She's warm and weird and brave in this quiet way that sneaks up on you. She doesn't know how remarkable she is. That's the thing. She genuinely doesn't see it. And I want—" I stop myself.

"You want what?" Mitchell prompts.

"I want to show her," I admit. "I want to be the person who makes her see what everyone else missed."

The silence that follows feels weighted.

"Well," Mitchell says finally. “Sounds like you found the perfect woman for you.”

“I don’t know, man,” I say.

“No, you actually do know. All of those things you said about her. The way you speak about her… you’ve never talked about a woman like this. You do not sound like a man who's confused about his feelings."

I groan. "That's the problem."

"How is that a problem?"

"Because I've known her for days, Mitchell. Days. And I'm over here making declarations like I'm proposing for real instead of just explaining that I won't fuck other people while we're legally bound together."

"Okay, slow down⁠—"

"What if she thinks I'm crazy? What if she wakes up tomorrow and realizes she's trapped in a condo with some intense weirdo who caught feelings in Vegas and now won't shut up about choosing her? She just got out of a relationship with a guy who made her feel like she was too much. The last thing she needs is me being... me."

Mitchell is quiet for a moment. Then: "You done?"

I exhale. "Probably not, but go ahead."

"First of all," he says, "you're not crazy. You're just... you. You've always been all-in or all-out. There's no dimmer switch on your intensity. Never has been."

"That's not exactly comforting."

"It's not supposed to be comforting. It's supposed to be accurate." He pauses. "Second of all—you meant it, didn't you? Everything you said?"

I stare at the ceiling again. "Yeah. But that's a problem."

"How is that a problem?"

"Because I don't know if it's real." The words come out frustrated, tangled. "I've never done this before. I've never felt like this about anyone. What if it's just... adrenaline? Novelty? What if I wake up in three weeks and realize I got swept up in the chaos of it all and now I'm stuck in a marriage with someone I barely know?"