Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 61: Give Me a Chance

Matthew

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "Sarah..."

I don’t finish the thought. Her eyes are locked on mine. She looks so hopeful that it makes my heart squeeze.

"You know this is a bad idea," I say, but I don’t move away.

"Most good things are," she whispers, her breath warm against my face.

I should say no. I should remind her of all the reasons this can’t happen—Amanda, age difference, her father, my job. But out here on the water, those reasons feel distant, like they belong to another life.

"Just one more," I hear myself say. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

She smiles, slowly closing the distance between us.

The kiss is gentle at first, tentative, as if she’s asking permission. Then I feel her hand on my cheek, and something inside me surrenders.

I kiss her back, really kiss her this time. Not to prove a point or shut her up, but because I want to. Because the taste of her is intoxicating, and the small sigh she makes against my mouth is the most honest sound I’ve heard in years.

When we break apart, I keep my eyes closed for a moment, trying to regain my composure.

"That wasn’t nothing," she says softly.

I open my eyes to find her watching me, her expression unguarded. "I guess not," I admit.

She reaches for my hand, and I let her take it, our fingers intertwining. The boat drifts peacefully, the sail fluttering in the gentle breeze.

"I’m not asking for promises, Matthew," she says. "I just wanted you to know that this is real for me."

I squeeze her hand, unable to offer words that would match her honesty. Instead, I look up at the vast sky above us, stars scattered like secrets waiting to be discovered.

"We should head back," I finally say. "It looks like it might rain soon."

She nods, reluctantly letting go of my hand to adjust the sail. The boat responds to her touch, turning smoothly toward the distant lights of the dock.

As we sail back, I watch her—the focused set of her jaw, the way she moves with such certainty. She’s not just a spoiled rich girl or the boss’s daughter. She’s Sarah Wilson, complicated and surprising, and I’m beginning to realize just how dangerous that is for my carefully constructed life.

The dock comes into view too quickly. Soon, we’ll be back on solid ground, where the rules are clear and the consequences real. But for now, I let myself exist in this moment with her.

~-~

The next few days go by in a blur.

I try distract myself from the whole incident with Amanda by keeping myself buried deep in work. Amanda still won’t talk to me.

Sarah and I didn’t go on another date, but she’s been showing up at my office with lunch. She calls them "working lunches," but I know better.

Today, I’m reviewing contracts when there’s a soft knock at my door.

"Come in," I call, not looking up from my computer.

"Working hard or hardly working?" Sarah’s voice fills the room, and despite myself, I feel the corners of my mouth turn up.

"Some of us actually have responsibilities around here," I say.

She sets a paper bag on my desk. "Thai food. I remembered you mentioned liking it."

I finally look up at her. She’s wearing a navy blue dress that hugs her curves in a way that makes me want to look away but can’t. Her hair is pulled back, a few strands escaping to frame her face.

"Thanks," I say, clearing my throat. "But I really am swamped today."

"I know," she says, perching on the edge of my desk. "I won’t stay. I just..." She hesitates, and I see a flash of vulnerability cross her face. "I just wanted to see you."

The simple honesty of her words hits me like a physical blow. I lean back in my chair, putting distance between us.

"Sarah—"

"Don’t," she interrupts. "Don’t give me a speech."

I laugh. "You make me sound like an old, tired professor."

"Then stop acting like one and enjoy life. If Amanda truly loved you, she would talk to you by now, wouldn’t she? It has already been a month," Sarah says.

Her words cut deeper than I expect. A month. It doesn’t feel like that long, but she’s right. Amanda’s silence has stretched out like an open wound that refuses to heal.

"You’re direct," I say finally.

"Mhm," she says, crossing her legs. "Now, eat your lunch before it gets cold."

"Trying to buy my affection with food, are you?" I ask coyly.

"You know I am, Matthew," she counters.

I shake my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. "At least you’re honest about it."

I open the bag, the warm scent of Thai spices filling the air. It’s a simple thing, but the fact that she remembered—when I can barely remember the last time Amanda and I shared a meal that wasn’t filled with tension—does something to me.

Sarah watches me as I take the first bite, satisfaction flickering in her eyes. "Good?"

"Yeah," I admit. "It’s good."

She leans back slightly, resting her hands on the desk. "I know you think this is a bad idea, but I also know you don’t regret that night."

I swallow, setting my fork down. "Sarah—"

"You don’t have to say anything," she interrupts. "Just... don’t push me away because you think you should."

"Okay," I say quietly.

Her eyes light up like she’s won something important. "Good. That’s all I needed to hear."

She slides off my desk with a grace that seems almost practiced, smoothing her dress as she stands.

"I should go," she says, but doesn’t move. "I have a meeting with Marketing in twenty minutes."

"Right," I nod, picking up my fork again. "Thanks for lunch."

My cell phone on the table suddenly starts to ring. The screen lights up, and my heart nearly stops.

Amanda.

Judging by the look on Sarah’s face, I can tell she saw it too.