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"I don'tneedto do anything. Anyway, I gave you a chance. See how that turned out?" she says in a low voice.
I wince. A stabbing sensation pierces my chest. "I’m sorry for what I did, Goldie. Truly. Haven’t you punished me enough?"
"All you’ve paid for it with is your money, so far." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "And that means nothing."
"Especially not when you haven’t spent it on yourself."
"I told you, I can do without your money." She fastens her fingers around Tiny’s collar. The skin around her knuckles stretches. She seems to be using him for support. I’m glad she has him during this time, but I’d rather she depend on me.
"What else can I do to make it up to you? Tell me, Goldie. Please? Do you want me on my knees? Because—" I bend one knee then the other.
She gasps.
"—here I am, on my knees, asking you to forgive me."
An older couple jogs by. The woman makes an 'awww' sound, and the man nods in my direction. "Looking good, mate." He flashes me a thumbs-up sign.
Tiny takes it as a signal that we are playing, for he barks and dances closer to me, brushing against my shoulder with enough force that I have to grab him and hold on for support.
“I’ll take Tiny for a walk." Mira grabs his leash and tugs at him. "Come on, Tiny, I’ll buy you a doggy breakfast."
His ears perk up. I swear the dog is half human. He barks at me, then at Goldie, as if to say, "Catch ya later," then allows Mira to lead him away. In the silence that ensues, a soft breeze blows her hair across her features.
"You wore your hair down," I murmur.
"I was in a hurry to leave the house." She searches in the pockets of her yoga pants, which cling to every curve of her thighs and outline her shapely calves. "Damn, I forgot my hair-tie."
I love it when she wears her hair down, but I know she prefers to put it up. And I want her to be comfortable. "Here." I pull one from my pocket and hold it out.
"You carry hair-ties?" She takes the band, and squints at it. "Is this mine?" She scoffs, glances up to see the look on my face and says, "Have you been carrying it around with you?"
I ignore the question and take in her left hand. "You’re not wearing your wedding ring." My voice comes out harsh, and I struggle to keep the anger off my face. I didn’t plan to be here, but after a night of missing her and being unable to sleep, I grabbed the pillow from her side of the bed and buried my nose in it to drag in any remnants of her scent. I finally managed to fall asleep, and woke up with an aching heart, and balls so heavy with need for her, I knew I had to see her. I told the team I’d meet them at the arena, then driven here.
"Neither are you.”
"You’re my wife. It’s important you wear my ring, so everyone knows you’re taken," I snap.
"Wow." She gapes. "You didn’t say that. Of all the chauvinistic, sexist sentiments—"
"I’m on my knees, aren’t I?" I shift my weight, ignoring the stones digging into my skin.
"Please get up. You’re making a spectacle of yourself." A female jogger runs by, then does a double take. She stumbles, rights herself, then keeps going, casting looks at us over her shoulder.
"Please, Rick, get up."
"Only if you forgive me."
"This is blackmail."
"I haven’t even started."
She firms her lips. "I’m not sure if you came here to apologize or to make things worse."
"Clearly, this is not one of my talents," I concede. "Also, I refused a wedding ring because I had something more permanent in mind." I hold up my left hand, with the back toward her.
She stares at my left ring finger, and her gaze widens. "What… What is that?"
I spread my fingers out for her perusal.
