Despite all her efforts the past week, nothing had changed. Grey hadn't changed.
Get up and walk out, her mind urged, but her heart demanded more answers. Numbly, she slipped from the bed and started putting on the clothes she'd left out to wear home tomorrow. "What makes you think my feelings about marriage have changed?"
A deep frown creased his brows. "I thought we'd come to an understanding about our relationship."
Her brittle laughter masked the devastation tearing her apart inside. Apparently they'd come to vastly different conclusions about where their relationship was heading and where it would end. "Funny, I thought you knew I wouldn't settle for less than marriage." She'd believed they were working toward a common goal-to spend the rest of their lives together.
"And after everything I shared with you, about my parents, my mother and my childhood, I thought you understood my views on marriage." He dragged his fingers roughly through his hair. "I never led you to believe differently."
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. He was absolutely right. The only comment she could use to refute his point was that she'd hoped she could show him how good a relationship could be between a husband and wife, and change his mind. Apparently he didn't care how wonderful a marriage could be.
She buttoned the front of her light cotton dress, realizing in that moment that they'd both secretly hoped to sway the other to their way of thinking. And when it came right down to it, neither of them was willing to surrender their beliefs for the other.
"I guess I'd hoped you'd see how special what we have is," she said, her voice quiet.
"I do see how special what we have is," he said impatiently.
"But it's not special enough for you to marry me."
His jaw clenched hard. "I never said that."
"Not in so many words, but you might as well have, because that's what this discussion comes down to." She pulled in a big breath of air, needing the oxygen to go on. "You want me to wear your ring, but you don't want any of the responsibilities or the ultimate commitment that goes with it."
He turned away, walking to the window that faced the lake, which shimmered with the reflection of the rising moon. "I knew buying you that ring wasn't a good idea," he muttered in disgust.
"Then why did you?" she asked boldly.
"I told you why." He glanced over his shoulder, pinning her with his gaze. "I love you, Mariah."
Why isn't that enough? The unspoken question hung between them. Because I want a husband who will cherish me, and I want children to love. I want one special man to spend the rest of my life with, not the insecurity of wondering when the magic was going to end-and be left: with nothing more than the ashes of memories. I want to make memories, and pass them on to our family.
But she didn't think Grey would understand her dreams. "So, essentially, you want me to live with you, sleep in your bed, wash your underwear and wear a ring that tells any man who looks at my ring finger that I'm taken, but at any given moment you could decide that you're no longer in love and that living with a woman cramps your style?"
Irritation flashed in his gaze. "You make it sound like some kind of impersonal arrangement."
"It might as well be." She twisted the ring off her finger, feeling like she was physically severing herself from him, and set it on the nightstand next to his wallet. "This ring means nothing."
He looked from the ruby-and-diamond band to her, trying his best to conceal his hurt expression, and failing. "It means everything to me."
Unfortunately, their "everythings" differed dramatically. "Not to me. Not without marriage."
"I have no intention of getting married. Ever," he said succinctly, and not without a little hostility. "Why can't we just enjoy what we have for as long as it lasts?"
"Because I want it to last forever."
He sliced a hand impatiently through the air. "A piece of paper declaring us husband and wife hardly guarantees happily ever after."
"No, it doesn't. It's up to you and I to work together to make our life happy." She came around the bed toward him. Ludicrous as it seemed, she wanted to be near him for what precious moments were left of their unraveling relationship. "There are no guarantees in life, Grey. Maybe we'll divorce or, God forbid, maybe one of us will die tomorrow."
"And there's no guarantee that love will last," he argued.
"You're absolutely right." She stood in front of him, resisting the impulse to reach out and touch his tense body. "I know you've seen the worst of marriages and relationships, but I've seen some of the best. You can't let the horrible way your father treated you and your mother's obsession about being loved influence your life and the chance to be happy with one special woman."
He said nothing, just stared at her, his eyes darkening with a despair that made her heart ache.
"People stay in love, Grey, as long as the couple continually works at it," she went on, a desperate part of her hoping she still had a chance in heaven of influencing him. "Love is fragile. For it to grow, it has to be nurtured and never taken for granted. People grow apart and divorce because they stop caring about each other, their family and the commitment they've made."
A mocking smile curled the corner of his mouth. "What makes you so sure that won't happen to us?"
His cynicism cut deeply. "I'm not sure, but as long as we communicate and respect one another, I think we could be really good together. You're my best friend, and I'd do whatever I could to make you happy."
"And I want to make you happy. I just don't think we need marriage for that." His voice rose in frustration. "Why complicate things?"
"Because I don't want to have children out of wedlock." The words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could rescind them. But they were the truth, and it was an issue that needed to be discussed.
He blanched. "I never said anything about children."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Except that you don't want them."
His mouth thinned into a grim line. "At least I'm honest about it. Kids need a father who can be there for them emotionally, who can raise them with a gentle but firm touch. I can't do that, Mariah. I don't know how to do that. All I know is the anger and cruelty I learned at my father's knee. I refuse to subject a child to that kind of ugliness."
He turned around and focused his attention somewhere out the window. Very quietly, very defeatedly, he said, "They'd be better off without me as a father."
A crushing pressure filled her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe. "You are so very wrong," she whispered. "They'd be very fortunate to have you as a dad."
He whirled around and scowled. "How the hell would you know?"
"From what you've told me about Aaron Nichols, I know firsthand you're a better man than your father ever was."
His laugh was self-depreciating. "I could be worse. Much worse."
She shook her head, refusing to be baited. "I wouldn't consider marrying a man who wasn't gentle and kind and loving. You have those qualities, Grey. And those qualities are what I love the most about my father."
She watched him struggle with some internal battle-wanting to believe her but allowing that vulnerable little boy in him to cling to the past and all the troubling memories of his childhood: the verbal abuse from his father and his mother's neglect.
Until Grey resolved those fears and insecurities, she knew they had no chance at a future.
He scrubbed his hand along his jaw, misery clouding his features. "So, what this all boils down to is you want all or nothing."