Masked SheWolf (MSW book 1)

Chapter 22 - Mason

I get a taxi. I give the driver the address and start rehearsing my speech in my mind. I must have repeated it at least five times, but after I'm dropped off in front of her apartment door, I can't remember a single word.

Her roommate Elise answers the door. She recognizes me, but she doesn't acknowledge me and instead immediately calls for Marianna, no doubt calling me the worst names in French. Elise never really liked me. Normally, I would be trying to get along with her for Mary's sake, but I'm not in the mood right now.

Seconds later, Marianna is at the door, dressed in the pink pajamas I got her for her birthday. Unlike Elise, who rolls her eyes and goes back inside, Mary is shocked to see me there; in a good way, of course. We could be having the worst fight we've ever had, but we would still be happy to see each other.

"Mason!" She jumps into my arms, and I wrap her in a close embrace, taking in her familiar scent that I've missed. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

I can't drop the bomb immediately after getting here. I need to appreciate her presence first, because I don't know if she's going to want to do that in a few minutes. "I missed you so much," I whisper, nuzzling my head against her neck.

She tilts her head up and kisses me, and for a while, I stop worrying about what's going to happen and just enjoy the moment with her. Somehow, we end up pressed up against the door, and I can't stop kissing her. I'm starting to get worked up in a different way though, so I need to tell her now before we end up in her bed.

"We need to talk," I whisper roughly, my mouth against hers.

"About what?" Her voice sounds dazed.

"Get dressed, and meet me downstairs," I tell her.

I kiss her one last time before I pull away. She frowns at me, her eyes burning with want, before she blinks a couple of times and goes to her room.

As I wait for her downstairs, I move around restlessly, constantly rubbing my hands together. This is my nervous habit, and I can't contain it at a time like this. Minutes later, she walks out in jeans, a jacket and sneakers. Even in those, she is still very beautiful.

The look on her face has been replaced by a wary one. "What is going on Mason?" she asks.

"I know what it would take for us to move in together," I assure her. "I do know that."

"I know you do," she says. "But until you ask, I told you I am not having this conversation."

"I am asking," I blurt out.

Marianna stiffens. "What?"

"I am asking you to marry me," I elaborate.

She blinks, staring at me blankly. "No," she says.

My spirits are entirely crushed. "No?" I repeat, dumbstruck. "Is that your answer?"

She shakes her head. "No, you're not asking me," she specifies. "Not really. You don't mean it. This is a desperate attempt to get me to move to America."

Is that what she thinks?!

"It's not," I vehemently try to persuade her. "I really mean it. Marianna, I want to be with you, no matter where we are. If you don't want to move to America, I'm prepared to live right here, in this tiny apartment with your roommate who hates me. All I ask is that you let me call you my wife."

She looks at me uncertainly. "If you really mean it, why did you always avoid the subject?"

"Because I was scared," I admit. "I was torn between choosing you or my family, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to leave them behind. I'm still not."

She sighs. "Mason, I would have to leave my family behind too," she points out, "but I was prepared to do that to be with you."

"It's different for me," I remind her, "and you know that. There is something very important at stake that people don't normally have to consider in this situation. One person gone from the house, that's one less person to protect my sister. Marrying you would have made it final, because I can't keep living with them when I'm trying to build a life with you, and I was too afraid of what might happen to Dylan."

A moment of silence passes. "And now?" she asks, her voice starting to quiver.

My eyes look down in shame. This is the hard part, the part that could make or break our relationship, because Marianna cares about Dylan too, and she might not forgive me for deciding to abandon her.

"Now... I think it's time for her to start taking care of herself," I confess. "We can't protect her forever... and I can't put my life on hold forever."

I look up at her again, and I can't decide what to make of the tears beginning to brim in her eyes. "I don't care where we go, as long as I'm with you. So I'm going to ask you one more time... and I won't bother you with it again. Marianna Bleue, will you please marry me?"

One tear falls and lands on her cheek. I want to hug her, hold her hand, or do whatever it takes to make her smile again. But I need to know what she wants first. If she doesn't want me, I lose the right to even touch her again.

"It's not because you thought we're too young?" she finally speaks, on the verge of crying. "Or because you're not ready or... because I'm older than you?"

I am so surprised by her assumptions that I forget for a moment what we're doing here, and all I can think about is making it clear how I feel about her. She's always so smart and self-assured; I forget sometimes that she has her own insecurities. I dare take a few tentative steps toward her until we're standing within touching distance.

"Of course not," I strongly assure her. "You and I, we're not some teenagers playing at being in love. We have been ready for this since the moment we knew how we felt about each other. And why does it matter that you happened to be born a couple years before me? You'll still be too good for me anyway."

A sob escapes her lips at the same time that she smiles, and her tears continue to fall freely on her face. "You really want to marry me?"

I smile back, hope flourishing deep within me. "I really want to marry you."

Marianna zealously nods her head throwing her arms around my neck. "Yes."