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“BJ . . . ,” I started on a sigh.
“No. Don’t say a word. Not before I do this.” BJ held up a hand. He turned around and hurried to his bag, retrieving something square, black, and velvety from it. He returned to me. When he was about a foot away, he lowered himself to one knee and stared up at me like I was a sky full of stars. Like I held the answers to all his prayers.
“Daphne Markham. I will wait until my last breath if need be. Begging for a chance to prove myself every day. We could move in together, or we could stay apart. I’ll be a good husband to you. Loyal and faithful. I’ll give you everything you ever wanted. Money, class, prospects, opportunity. You won’t have to work a day in your life ever again. All I ask is one thing—say yes. Marry me.”
He flicked the box open. The diamond inside was square and big, surrounded by small shiny diamonds. It looked gorgeous and sinfully expensive. Upper-six-figures expensive. The kind of engagement ring you flaunted once, then shoved in a safe, since it was unsafe to carry around.
It was perfect, but not for me.
I loved Riggs’s ring. The unusual, quirky, classy heirloom. It was rich in things that weren’t money. With history and memories and nostalgia I wished I knew more about. It was something I could pass one day to my own child.
A crazy thought invaded my mind. Did Riggs know me better than BJ did? Even during the week he gave me that ring? When we were still complete strangers?
Oh, God. He did, didn’t he? He knew me then and had got to know me even better every day since.
And me, I loved him.I love him.
So much it hurt to breathe when he wasn’t around. That the thought of him boarding a plane and going somewhere for months made me want to wither into something tiny that he could put in his pocket just so I wouldn’t have to say goodbye.
That tangled web I’d woven around me, made of rusty barbed wire to fend off genuine feelings to a man, had somehow been cut, ripped, and destroyed by a man who had zero aspirations to fight for my heart.
I was in love with my husband.
I had to tell him. Not tomorrow. Not in a few hours.Now.
Tears prickled my eyes, and I cupped my mouth in astonishment.
I was so shaken with the revelation that I didn’t even notice the door dragging open and Riggs walking inside. He looked ashen. But when he stopped in front of us and saw the scene of BJ on one knee, and me standing there with tears in my eyes, his face turned from ashen to destroyed.
And that was the moment when I knew what love truly was—the need to know you’re someone’s entire world, and still not want to ever witness what your power over them could cause.
“Riggs ...” I gravitated toward him like a moth to a flame, almost tumbling over BJ in the process, forgetting he was there. The latter finally came to his senses and seemed to comprehend that a heartfelt reunion wasn’t in the cards for us and stood up. “Wait ...”
Riggs chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “You surprise me sometimes, Poppins. Breaking your own rules over and over again. Thought we said no hookups inside the apartment. By the way.” He turned to BJ with swagger, a cocky smile on his face. “I’m the guy your girlfriend has been fucking the entire time you thought you were winning at life.”
BJ gasped, raising a fist to wave at my husband. “Don’t you dare talk about Daphne like that.”
Riggs narrowed his eyes, stepping into BJ’s sphere. The latter stumbled back, whitening under his (fake?) tan. For a moment, I thought I was going to witness murder and was ready to jump between them. Their noses nearly touched when Riggs spoke again.
“Don’t tell me what to do. Not when you fucked off and left me someone who doesn’t trust men, doesn’t trust her own emotions, doesn’tbelieve in love. You ruined her, Cocksucker, with your selfish ways. And lookie now.” He stepped back, his eyes ping-ponging between us. “Seems like you both figured it all out. Enjoy your reunion. Just don’t do it on the couch,” he spat out before storming off. “After all, it’s my bed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
RIGGS
Three hours earlier
“I gotta stop smoking.” Charlie pressed his head against the hospital wall in the garden area, closing his eyes.
I side-eyed him, prying the joint from between his fingers and taking a drag. “It’s just a little weed, Charles.”
“Weed doesn’t agree with me.”
Charlie was a bummer today. I had a feeling he was bracing himself to tell me what was wrong with him. Whatever it was, it was serious.
“What makes you say that?” I passed him the joint anyway, and he took it.
He gnawed on the side of his cheek, staring down at his feet. He’d lost a bunch of weight since I last saw him, and his hands were shaking now.
