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He arches an eyebrow and says, “I just proposed to you. Get in my car and make me a happy man by being sweet for once to your husband-to-be.”
“If you put it like that.”
I turn, and he swats my bottom.
“Behave.” He draws a circle over his head, and I shake my head at him. I round the car to the passenger side and climb in, grinning.
Chapter Three
BRIA
In the car, I lift my hand in front of me, staring at the diamond ring on my finger. I can’t peel my gaze away. The sparkles of the tiny encrusted endless diamonds and center stone dance and follow every movement of my hand.
“You’re radiant. I love seeing you happy.”
“You mean the ring shines, literally. People will notice it from a mile away.”
“It’s my intention.”
“It’s one of your many ways of branding me.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he takes my hand and trails kisses down the inside of my palm.
“I won’t apologize. You know how I am with you. I can’t help it.”
I tap my lower lip and tilt my head to him.
“Maybe after we marry, this possessive side of you will cease.”
“We’ll see.”
“Well, if being your wife isn’t enough, you can always get me pregnant.”
At the thought, a new sort of happiness sets inside my heart until he slams on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt, and his tone turns grave.
“I won’t. I hope I’m enough for you.”
“What are you talking about?” I turn to face him, disbelief rising inside me while his eyes plead with me to understand.
“With your heart condition, pregnancy heightens the risk of cardiac arrest and heart failure. I won’t take the risk, not with your health.”
“There are always risks involved in a pregnancy, Damien.”
“I made my decision.”
I rest my cheek in my palm, my elbow hanging on the window. “What if I want a baby?” I ask, disbelief and hurt lacing my words.
“We can adopt.”
A torrent of emotions tears me apart. “Bria, baby, don’t cry.” He shelters me in his arms, and I peer at him, his eyes reflecting his turmoil, and I clasp his shirt between my hands.
“But, in time, my heart will be strong enough. Don’t be like this.” He shuts his eyes and places a sweet kiss on my forehead.
“I don’t want to fight about this, baby. I won’t risk you. Try to understand.”
“I don’t see what there is to understand, but let’s not fight over a hypothetical pregnancy.”
He grips my waist, pleading, “I know how you get when you want something bad enough. The optimist in you kicks in, and the pessimist and all logic flees. Promise me.”
Although what he asks from me comes from a place of love and concern, it still hurts.
