"Meaning if you didn't keep me on my toes every second of every day, I'd have figured out a way to get you down the aisle by now," he said, and it all clicked into place. He was sulking because he didn't have me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen yet.
Okay, so "barefoot and pregnant" might have been an exaggeration, but there was no denying that Jude wanted me to be his wife the second after I'd agreed to marry him. He'd only been asking, begging, whining, and, as of late, sulking when I replied, "Not yet."
It didn't have anything to do with my not wanting to marry him. Jude was going to be my husband. I was going to be Mrs. Jude Ryder one day.
I just wasn't ready for that day to be today. Or yesterday. Or tomorrow, for that matter. I wanted to finish school and have a few years of actual on-the-job dance experience before I became a Mrs. I didn't want to be known as the one girl in the history of the twenty-first century to have gone to school to get an MRS degree.
So my answer was, "Not yet."
But one day.
However, this wasn't what Jude liked to hear. So instead of arguing back with my list of valid reasons for postponing marriage, I redirected the conversation. I'd become a diversion ninja.
"And if I hadn't kept you on your toes the past three years, you wouldn't be about to be a first-round pick and to sign your life away for mountains of money," I replied, throwing his words back at him.
"Come on, Luce. I'm growing tired of the whole, stop, drop, and divert routine," he said, looking down at me, but still keeping me close. "Marriage isn't the end of the world."
"Then why do you keep acting like my not wanting to tie the knot tomorrow is?"
"Because your saying 'not now' is the end of the world," he said, fighting a smile. "Come on, baby. Marry me," he said, not like a question but like a command. I didn't reply, letting the seconds tick off in silence around us. "Marry me?" he repeated, this time as a plea. It crushed me a little bit every time, Jude pleading with me to marry him.
"I'm going to marry you," I answered.
He smirked at me. "When?"
I smirked back. "Soon."
"Can I get that in writing?" he asked. "Maybe a date, a time, and a location? You know, just so I can make sure to be there when the marrying mood strikes you?" He looked away, the lightness in his eyes shadowing.
Dammit. We'd officially crossed from his being marginally upset to full-on hurt. I hated that Jude felt this way, but I couldn't cave. I couldn't get married because I felt guilty. That would be a marriage doomed to failure, and when I said, "I do," it was going to be a onetime deal.
"Jude Ryder," I said, tilting his chin until he was looking at me. "Are you having an insecure moment? I thought you were immune to those." I tried on a smile, but it felt superficial. "Are you worried I'm not going to marry you?" Even my light tone sounded artificial, too saccharine to be believable.
Leaning the back of his head into the wall, he lifted his face toward the ceiling. He couldn't look at me, or didn't want to, but his arms never loosened their hold. And I knew, no matter what was said or done, they never would. That was one of the many reasons I loved this man.
"I'm starting to worry," he said finally, shifting his gaze around the room, pretending he was interested in the handful of players pacing the room like caged lions, and their respective entourages of family and friends attempting, and failing, to calm them.
"Jude," I said, pulling his chin back to me. "Jude, look at me." I waited for him to turn to me. I caught a glimpse of just how vulnerable Jude Ryder was. How very terrified he was of one day being abandoned by the person he loved most. How the ghosts of his past-his mother leaving and his father being imprisoned-had been resurrected by my indecision. Seeing him this way almost had me running off to the nearest wedding chapel.
Almost.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying the words I knew would have soothed his pain instantly. I carefully thought of new ones I hoped would appease him. "I'm marrying you one day. One day sooner rather than later," I began, holding his gaze, not even allowing myself a blink that would break the contact. "There's never been a question that I'm yours. Yeah, we're not husband and wife yet, but I'm yours. And you're mine. Does a new title and a piece of paper really matter that much?" I already knew Jude's answer to this.
"Yes," he said, his jaw clenching as his eyes flashed. "Shit, yes, it does, Luce."