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She holds the ring with two fingers as she hands it over to Logan, whoappears surprised. For a moment it looks as if he wants to jump back as if the ring was on fire, but he catches himself and reluctantly accepts it.
He turns to me and clears his throat, nudging his chin in my direction to prompt me to hold out my hand. My fingers are trembling when I hold my left hand out for him to put the ring on. I can’t stop the tremors, no matter how much I try, and it almost seems like he’s trying to hold me in place when he holds my finger with one hand while putting the ring on with the other.
I didn’t expect the confusing flux of emotions that takes a hold of me as it happens. It feels so awkward, so wrong—and so weirdly nice at the same time. His touch is gentle and caring, as if he was afraid to hurt me or ruin the valuable piece of jewelry as he slides it onto my finger.
“Oh, look at that!”the sales woman calls out in delight. “That looks like a perfect fit. Who would have thought!”
Logan and I exchange a look.
“Does it fit?”he asks with a strained voice.
I look down on the ring, unable to stop myself from smiling when the diamond reflects the light with dancing rainbow sparks. It looks so beautiful, surprisingly dazzling actually.
No, I can’t like this. I shouldn’t.
This isn’t real.
I yank myself back to reality and pull the ring off of my finger as quickly as possible. It sits a bit tight, causing me to struggle for two or three seconds that feel horrifyingly long.
“Yeah, it fits.”
I clear my throat and hand the ring back, avoiding eye contact with him and the cheerful sales woman as I try to keep my unhinged emotions in check.
Chapter 16
Kat
It’s been three days since I moved in with Logan, but I’m still far from getting used to any of this.
I have my own bedroom, just like he promised—and what a bedroom it is! Even the one I shared with the twins at the Millers’home when I was twelve years old was smaller. The twins, Elsa and Tina, were slightly older than me and the most horrible temporary siblings I had to endure during my unsteady upbringing.
It was one of the worst times of my young life, but even then, I felt less misplaced than I do now. Most of my foster families never felt like home to me, but, in an odd way, I still felt like I belonged. It was a life I knew, this constant change, my hope for adoption fading more and more each time I was handed off to the next family. I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t feel lost and confused.
I have always dreamed of having a room like this. A room to myself, with a door that can be locked from the inside, a bed that feels like heaven, high-end furniture that I don’t have to share with anyone, and a breathtaking view across the skyline. This bedroom is everything I could ever dream of, but it feels so alien to me.
It’s not just the size that’s so overwhelming. Everything in here reeks of prosperity and abundance. The white walls are so out of this world immaculate and the ceilings are high enough to make it feel more like a hall. There are two large windows, framed with gorgeous white curtains, facingsouth so that the room is immersed in bright daylight all day long. This seems to be the only space up here without gray or black accents—except for the dark wooden frame of the queen-size canopy bed. Sheer white curtains surround the bed on all four sides, and there are more pillows than anyone could ever need, with silk covers in varying shades of white and beige. I even have my own en suite bathroom with a jacuzzi bathtub, all in white marble and with golden fixtures. I was hesitant to touch anything at first, worried I might spoil the interior with my dirty paws.
Inside the bedroom, there’s a white vanity pushed against the wall opposite to the windows, and a seating area, consisting of an armchair and a loveseat, both upholstered with the softest white fabric. When I first moved in, they were arranged around a small coffee table, awkwardly placed in the middle of the room. I moved everything and placed the armchair right underneath the window. A stylish floor lamp with an orb light found its place right next to the chair, building the perfect reading spot.
Perfect, except for the lack of bookshelves. There was nowhere to put my large collection. I didn’t want to leave them in bags, so I stacked them up next to my reading corner, lined along the wall in neatly organized piles. It took me hours to sort and stack them in an order that makes sense to me, but it was perfect to pass the time on my first evening.
I’ve felt like a fish out of water ever since I got here, but it’s only gotten worse now that my closet is filled with all this overpriced fashion, shoes and jewelry.
And that ring. I haven’t seen it since we left the store, so I’m assuming that Logan still has it for some unknown reason. Is he waiting for the perfect opportunity to put it on my finger as some kind of official gesture? But why would he do that if all of this is just to pretend?
How am I supposed to keep my head straight and not be confused by his behavior?
That kiss… and the hot buzz that purred through my core when he grabbed my ass. My entire body goes up in flames every time I think about it. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted more, so much more, even though I know how stupid that would be. I can’t get involved with him, not like that. It would screw with my head—and my heart.
A sigh flees my lips as I sink deeper into my armchair. A book is resting in my lap, but I haven’t read a single page since I sat down about an hour ago. My gaze has been latched to the window and the view of the city far below. It’s late afternoon, the sky at the horizon already changing color as the sun is about to set.
I haven’t seen Logan since this morning, when I bumped into him on my way to the kitchen. He was already dressed and ready to tackle the day, seemingly storming out of the apartment when he saw me dragging my feet along the corridor.
“There’s coffee and some croissants,” he shouted on his way out.
He scrunched his nose in disgust when I told him that I prefer a Caramel Macchiato to regular coffee, but I still found a brand new bottle of caramel syrup in the kitchen on my second morning here. A nice gesture that only adds to my confusion.
I have been by myself all day long, feeling like an intruder as I wandered around the penthouse that’s supposed to be my home for the foreseeable future. I’m beginning to become quite anxious about all of this—just like I’m feeling more and more uncomfortable with all the lies this entails.
