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“Morning.”
He places the bag and coffee on the small table and nods towards the coffee.
“You should probably drink that. I heard caffeine is good with bad hangovers.”
I tentatively take a step towards him and sit at the table. He sits across from me and opens the bag up.
I moan when I take the first bite of the heaven-sent bagel he hands me. After washing it down with the perfect sip of coffee, I slam my elbow on the table and glare at him. “What the fuck is this?”
Ringer glances at the piece of jewelry on my finger before returning his eyes to mine. “That looks like a wedding ring.”
“No shit, Emmett. What the fuck is it doing on my finger?”
He dares to look sheepish. “It usually is a sign that two people got married.”
My eyes widen, and I drop my hands to the table, pointing from him to my chest. “Did we…?”
I can’t even finish the sentence.
At his slight nod, my heartbeat pulsates in my chest all the way up through my temples and out my ears.
“What!” I screech. “Holy fuck.”
I push away from the table and pace behind my chair. “My dad’s going to kill me.”
I whip my head back to him. “Please tell me this is a fake ring. That it’s costume jewelry that we got out of one of those silly toy cent machines.”
Seeing the rise in Ringer’s chest as he takes a deep breath, I know my answer.
“Emmett! How the hell? What the hell? How did– why did–”
“Calm down, Princess.”
“Calm down! Emmett, we got fucking married!”
“Yeah, and?” he says, pushing back from the table and standing to move around it towards me.
“What do you mean ‘and?’ Married, Emmett! Like married, married! Not just fake married like I used to pretend we were when I was little!” I start to hyperventilate. “This is a $20,000 ring!”
He shakes his head and waves my comment off. “Thirty-two, but that doesn’t matter. Lilah, it’s fine.”
“What!” I scream, pulling the ring off my finger and holding it out to him, half afraid to even touch the fucking thing. I feel like I’m going to puke, and not from the hangover.
“Put that back on,” he says gruffly.
“No! I cannot wear that, Emmett.”
“Why do you keep calling me Emmett?”
My head is reeling. I feel like I’m going through a wind tunnel as my mind races and my heart pounds. I’m going to pass out.
“I think I’m going to puke,” I say before turning and running to the bathroom. I manage to drop to my knees before all of the contents in my stomach expel into the toilet.
I vaguely hear Ringer let out a deep sigh behind me as he gathers my hair up into a ponytail behind my head.
I heave two more times before dropping onto my ass on the tile, leaning my back against the side of the tub.
I take the washcloth he hands me and wipe my face before tossing it into the hamper by the sink.
