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The man who gave it to me was still asleep.
He was on his back, sprawled out and taking up most of the bed, his hand stretched out to me like it’d been on my stomach at some point during the night. Gentle breaths filled and depleted his lungs. The sheets were bunched at his waist, as if he’d gotten warm sometime during the night. He was a behemoth of a man, giving more protection than an automatic weapon.
I stared for a while, taking in the sight of the man I would marry.
My fiancé.
Guilt pulled at my stomach—but not for the reason it should.
I slowly crept out of bed and got to the edge. My feet planted on the rug, and I ran my fingers through my messy hair. My makeup had never been washed off, so now my eyes were puffy from the eye shadow and mascara. My fingers rubbed the corners, getting piles of goop on my fingertips.
The candles were dark because Fender must have blown them out at some point. Rose petals were in my hair, and one fell out and drifted to the floor. I got to my feet then slowly tiptoed around the bed toward the closet.
“Get back here.” His deep voice was raspy, his vocal cords still asleep.
I turned back to him.
He looked at me with tired eyes before he patted the sheets beside him. His hair was messy, there was a streak of lipstick at his jawline, and his sleepy look was sexy. It was one of the rare times he looked harmless.
I slowly crept back, stopping to grab one of his shirts from a drawer on the way. I got back into bed beside him.
He immediately pulled me close, his arm hooking around the small of my back, his lips brushing my hairline. “I’m tired of waking up and you’re gone.” He closed his eyes once more and held me there, his fingers lightly caressing me, holding me as he slowly woke up.
We lay there for a while before a quiet knock sounded on the door. The noise of the tray settling against the hardwood floor was audible, along with the sound of Gilbert’s retreating steps.
It must be breakfast.
I moved from his hold again and retrieved the tray, placing it on the dining table in the sitting room. I used the drapery pullers next and opened the windows, letting the daylight invade every corner of the bedroom.
Fender sat up in bed, his arms moving to his knees, and he rubbed his eye with his palm.
I set the table then took a seat, pouring a hot cup of coffee.
He joined me a moment later, in his black boxers, scruff on his jaw, a slight look of annoyance in his gaze. He sat across from me but didn’t reach for the coffee or anything else. His look pierced me from across the table.
I added cream and sugar, eyes down.
He continued to stare, drilling harder, demanding an explanation for my behavior.
When my fingers gripped the handle of the mug, I noticed my ring there, brilliant and beautiful. I released the mug and tightened my fingers into a fist, seeing the diamond reflect different spectrums of light.
I lifted my gaze and looked at him.
He could convey so much with just his expression—and right now, he was borderline furious.
“I…I have to tell you something.”
Instantly, all the tightness of his features relaxed. He’d probably expected me to give the ring back because I’d changed my mind.
I didn’t just agree to marry him to save my sister. I did it because I couldn’t picture myself with anyone else but him. That made me feel guilty for my dishonesty. Made me feel disloyal. Made me feel like I didn’t deserve him. “When I came back to you…I did it to save her.” I dropped my gaze because I couldn’t look at him, not when I was admitting that the foundation of this relationship was a lie.
The silence lasted a long time.
When he said nothing, I looked at him again.
His expression hadn’t changed. “I know, chérie.”
I inhaled a breath in relief. Whenever he called me that, I knew we would be okay.
“I know that was why you told me you loved me too.”
Guilt flooded my heart then circulated into all my veins.
“But I didn’t care. Still don’t.”
My fingers played with my ring, spun it back and forth. The diamond was too big to spin all the way around my finger, so I had to turn it back and forth between the two fingers on either side.
“Do you love me now?”
The question caught me off guard because it hurt so much. It hurt that he had to ask that, because what we had was real. Even if it was wrong, it was true. I shouldn’t love a man like him, but I did anyway, and that told me it was undeniable. Tears burned my eyes, provoking emotions that hadn’t been there just a second ago. “With all my heart.”
