this ring, you're about to flat-out refuse what I'm going to say next."
"What are you talking about?"
He tosses his head back, polishing off the remaining wine in a single gulp. The firelight casts shadows across his dark features.
"I want you to marry me."
S IX
A weak laugh jams my throat, a surge of panic coursing through my veins. I watch him, mouth gaping, waiting for some kind of. . . . I don't know what I'm waiting for. An explanation? I don't know what this is. What he's doing. He can't be serious.
Wait. Did Carter just ask me to marry him?
He's kidding. He meant it as a joke. He's not serious.
But his eyes are serious. His face. His lips.
Oh My God. He's serious .
"Carter—I . . ."
"Please," he begs, sitting taller. "Hear me out, first."
My jaw smarts, tightening in frustration. I don't want to hear him out. I want him to tell me this isn't real .
"I watched you guys the whole summer, and, for the sake of being honest, it about killed me. But as much as it hurts to admit this, I saw something you had with him that you never had with me. I know that I am never going to replace him. I can't. He . . . he gave you something that I couldn't give you. He helped you figure out who you are. You're meant for this, Gee. For some reason. I don't know why, but this is what you're supposed to do, and he gave that to you. He was there for you when I couldn't be—in more ways than I could ever be . . ."
"I never needed you to do any of that," I interrupt. "That's not what we were ever about. But that doesn't mean you aren't just as important to me."
"I know, but I want to prove to you—to show you—that I do have something to offer."
"You already have! I couldn't have done any of this . . ."
"Regardless," he interrupts, plucking the box from my trembling fingers. "I can do more. And this is the best way I know how."
He removes the ring, pinching it carefully, and in my mind I imagine him doing this very thing a dozen times before. Debating. Rehearsing the words spoken. Predicting my reaction to them. My answer.
"I know you don't love me the way you love him. And I know better than to make you choose between the two of us, because I know that, when it comes down to it, you would pick him. But I have the chance to do something with my life because of you. I want you—I need you—to become a Fleming."
He slides the ring onto my finger. My hand refuses to stop shaking.
It's so big. So heavy. I can't stop shaking.
The weight of its meaning presses into me: an engagement ring .
God! Why won't I stop shaking?
I shrink away from him, a thousand reasons to say no surging through my head.
"I—I can't get married, Carter. I don't even know if I believe in marriage. If I could ever get married. I'm not the 'get married' type!"
"If Seth asked, you would say yes."
I stare at him blindly, speechless.
"If there was a way for you and Seth to live the rest of your lives together, to get married, happily ever after, you would say yes in a heartbeat. So you are the marrying type."
Seth and I—it's not something I ever let myself dream about. I could never see that far into our futures. The entire time we were together, we were always a second away from disaster. Never promised a tomorrow. God, we barely had a present . Yes, I wanted him. Yes, I love him. But an entire future? It's almost too much to ask of anyone.
Would I say yes to Seth? If he asked? If it were possible?
"I'm only eighteen," I whisper. " Today . Seth—he's still out there."
"I just want to give you my name, Gee," Carter says. "Legally. I can do more for you as a Fleming than I can any other way. You can marry me. We can change your name. You would have access to everything I have and more."
My fingers tighten to fists; spikes of anger prick my skin. "You want me to marry you so I can become Genesis Fleming ?" I ask. "Five minutes ago you said you didn't even want to be a Fleming!"
"You're right. I want more. I want to