You're Not Subtle

It took four weeks of conversation for Luke Anderson to become something other than a stranger at table seven. Four weeks of him waiting after my shifts, of coffee that turned cold while we talked, of questions that felt more like digging into my past than small talk.

He asked about my degree. My family. Why was I working at a café instead of using my education?

I answered carefully, giving him truth wrapped in omission. I let him know my family had expectations, but I was trying to establish independence. No, I wasn't planning to serve coffee forever.

I didn't mention Marcus Harrington, the countdown to homelessness, or the increasingly threatening calls from my mother. I didn’t say that every conversation with him felt like building a bridge to a safer place.

He seemed content with partial answers and never pushed when I deflected. Luke observed me with that gray-eyed intensity that made me feel simultaneously visible and exposed.

I told myself I was making progress, establishing connections, and positioning myself as someone interesting enough to keep around. I told myself he had no idea what I was doing.

Week five, everything changed.

Luke arrived on Tuesday looking different. His appearance was still the same, with the same expensive suit and composure. But something in his energy felt decided, like he'd reached a conclusion that had been building for weeks.

I brought his Americano. He accepted it without comment.

"Sit," he said.

"My shift just started." I retorted.

"I'll make it worth your time."

The promise in those words made my pulse kick. I glanced at Jean-Paul, who was watching with poorly concealed curiosity, then slid into the chair across from Luke.

"What's this about?"

Luke set down his tablet with deliberate care. "I have a proposition for you."

My stomach dropped. This was the moment I'd been engineering for five weeks. Whatever he was about to offer, I needed to accept it and be grateful, but not desperate; interested, but not calculating.

"I'm listening," I said carefully.

"You're in a difficult situation. Family pressure, limited options, working a job you're overqualified for because you need independence they're not willing to give you."

I felt cold. "How do you know?"

"I pay attention, Mara. You've mentioned enough over the past month for me to piece together the basics." He paused. "You need protection. Resources. Distance from people who treat you like a commodity."

"That's a lot of assumptions."

"Am I wrong?"

"What are you offering?" I kept my voice steady despite my racing heart.

"Marriage."

The word landed between us like a grenade. I stared at him, certain I had misheard.

"Excuse me?"

"Marry me. I'll protect you from your family, provide you with financial security, and social position. You'll have independence and safety."

"Why?" The question came out sharper than intended. "Why would you propose marriage to a café server you've known for five weeks?"

"Because you're strategic. Intelligent. You understand how to navigate complicated social situations without making them more complicated." His expression stayed neutral, unreadable. "And because I find you interesting. That's rare."

"What do you get out of this?" I asked carefully.

"A wife. Companionship. Someone who won't bore me after six months."

"That's not a reason to marry someone."

"It's as good a reason as any." He leaned back slightly, creating space. "Think about it. You need protection. I'm offering it. The alternative is what? Marrying whoever your family has selected? Staying trapped in their control?"

Luke was describing Marcus Harrington without naming him.

"How do you know about these things?"

"I told you. I pay attention." Luke's voice softened fractionally. "You've been watching me for weeks, Mara. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Or investigate why?"

My face burned. "I wasn't …"

"Don't lie. We're past that." He leaned forward. "You targeted me deliberately. Positioned yourself in my sight line, memorized my preferences, and engineered conversations. That's fine. I understand strategy. But let's be honest about what this is."

I felt humiliated that he had known the entire time that I was manipulating him, and he had let me think I was succeeding.

"Then why …" I stopped. Started again. "If you knew what I was doing, why play along?"

"Because you're direct about wanting something without being manipulative about how you pursue it. You didn't lie or perform helplessness. You just positioned yourself. I respect that."

"Respect it enough to propose marriage?"

"Yes."

The simplicity of his answer made my head spin. This was happening too fast. Five weeks ago, I'd been serving him coffee. Now he was proposing marriage as if it were a business merger.

"I need time to think."

"You have until I finish my coffee." Luke picked up his Americano and sipped. "After that, the offer expires."

"That's not fair."

"Nothing about life is fair. But in this case, I'm offering you something you've been working toward for five weeks. It's either you take my offer, or you don't." His eyes locked on mine. "You have to decide now, Mara. I don't make offers twice."

My mind raced through calculations. Marriage to Luke meant safety from my family, Marcus Harrington, and the slow suffocation of their control. It also meant resources, protection, and freedom I couldn't achieve on my own.

But it also meant binding myself to a stranger. I had only known him for five weeks, and I couldn't boast of knowing anything about him other than his intensity. 

"What are the terms?" I asked.

"We'll discuss details after you accept. But the basics are that you get financial security and protection. I get a wife who understands this is a practical arrangement."

"Not a love match."

"No."

"And if one of us wants out?"

"Then we negotiate an exit like adults." He finished his coffee and set down the cup. "Time's up. Yes or no?"

Various thoughts ran through my mind within seconds. I thought about my apartment lease ending in three weeks, my mother's threats, and Marcus Harrington's complex situation.

I thought if I could save enough money in three months of marriage to Luke Anderson, I could flee. All I needed was his protection long enough to build my own, then leave before he realized I'd never intended to stay.

"Yes," I said.

"Good." He stood, pulled out his wallet, and left cash on the table. "I'll have my lawyer draw up papers. We'll keep this quiet until the announcement."

"When?"

"Two weeks. That gives us time to handle logistics." He paused. "This is the right decision, Mara. You'll see."

He left before I could respond.

I sat alone at table seven, without an engagement ring, but shell-shocked, understanding that I had just agreed to marry a man for protection.