Her amber eyes shifted, just slightly, then she nodded. “I know what I want, Han. You and me together, and an end to risking our lives hauling spice. We’ll be like Roe and Lwyll, and go off together to make a new life.
An honest life. Maybe we’ll have kids someday.”
“But do you love me?” he asked, holding her eyes with his own.
“Sure,” she said. “Of course I do, Han. You know that.”
No, I don’t think I do, he thought, cynically. He hadn’t missed that slight shift of her eyes. He knew Salla was fond of him, cared for him, and had passion for him. But love?
“Anyway, you’ll see, this is the right decision, Han. We’re going to be really happy, and this will be the best wedding ever. We’ll have a great party afterward.”
Han didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t asked him whether he loved her.
She doesn’t want to know the answer, he realized.
For a moment it was on the tip of his tongue to say, “Salla, I don’t love you, and I don’t want to marry you.” But somehow he couldn’t quite get the words out. He didn’t want to break up with her, and that would certainly do it.
Han silently resolved to talk to Chewie, and maybe Lando about this, since Salla had already shot her mouth off. Maybe one of them would have some idea how to tell her “no” about the marriage, without losing her.
Han didn’t want to lose Salla, but he sure wasn’t getting married.
Especially now, when he was on top of the smuggling heap, with the speedy Falcon as his very own! He had places to go, business to do, cargoes to haul, and there was fun to be had—fun that would be totally ruined if he was married. As far as the Corellian was concerned, getting married was tantamount to some unending Imp work detail. Han would hardly have been less dismayed to find himself sentenced to the spice mines of Kessel.
The next day he cornered Chewie in their apartment, and, while ZeeZee trundled back and forth, picking up things and putting them down again in the exact same spot, told him the whole story. His friend growled and moaned, shaking his head. “Whaddaya mean the way Salla’s actin’ reminds you of Wynni?” Han demanded. “Wynni can’t keep her paws off you, tries to seduce you every time we run into her. Salla ain’t like that. She just wants to get married.”
Chewbacca amplified on his previous statement. Salla reminded him of Wynni because she wasn’t asking whether Han wanted her, she was just assuming that he did, and doing what she wanted. Marriage, the Wookiee pointed out, had to be something where both partners had an equal voice. Sometimes one partner might accede to the wishes of the other, but nobody should just assume they knew what was best and start making decisions for a couple.
Han’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I see what you mean,” he muttered. “Salla ain’t askin’, she’s just takin’ it for granted that we’re gettin’ married.”
He shook his head sadly. “Today she’s out shoppin’ for an outfit. She says ‘cause I’m Corellian, she wants a traditional Corellian wedding.
That means a green dress.”
Chewie shook his head and launched into a long peroration on females of any species who regarded males as prizes to be won. He cautioned Han that his sister, Kallabow, had decided in much the same way that she intended to marry Mahraccor. However, Chewie said, Kallabow had been more cleverer about it than Salla. She’d merely given Mahraccor plenty of chances to realize that he loved her, Kallabow, until one day he’d done exactly that.
They were very happy, Chewie pointed out.
“Well, that ain’t what’s gonna happen to me, pal,” Han said caustically.
“You know, I’m startin’ to get mad, Chewie. She doesn’t care what I want—she doesn’t even want to know what I want. That’s no way to make someone fall for you and want to marry you.”
Chewie vociferously agreed.
The next night, Han spoke to Lando in a smoky bar at one of the big Nar Shaddaa casinos. The gambler shook his head the moment Han brought the subject up. “Han…Han … she’s dead serious about this, you know.
When she told me about it, I started to laugh—’cause I know you, pal!—and Salla just about decked me.”
“I know she’s serious,” Han said, morosely. “Blast it, Lando, I don’t want to marry her—I don’t want to marry anybody! Ever, maybe! I like being single, and I like being able to do what I want, when I want, with whoever I want to!”
“Easy, pal,” Lando cautioned, and Han realized his voice had scaled up to the point where other patrons of the drinking establishment were looking over at him. He took a hasty gulp of his Alderaanian ale.