I exhale. “Good.”
He’s silent for a second. Then, “The senator moved faster than I expected. Elizabeth said he was mad you didn’t loop him in earlier.”
I smirk. “He’ll survive.”
Liam chuckles. Then he leans forward, elbows on his knees, clasping his hands between them. For a moment, I panic. I know this look. Somethingiswrong. There is anxiety in Liam’s movements. It’s not something I could have detected a few weeks ago, but now, I’m certain he’s about to say something difficult.
“Taryn, I know this isn’t the life you asked for. When we met, you wanted out. A clean break. Law school in California. A life that had nothing to do with our clan.”
“I know what I wanted,” I say softly, wondering where he’s going with this. “But I also know what I have now.”
He looks over at me, eyes searching mine. “But do you want it?”
Does he really have to ask? I reach for his hand. “I want you.”
Something shifts in his expression, and before I can speak again, he stands and reaches into his pocket.
“I was going to wait until the reception,” he says, “but screw it. I want you to have this.”
He kneels.
“Liam!” I gasp, looking around. “You can’t—”
“I’m not proposing,” he says with a grin. “Already did that once. And you married me under threat of scandal.”
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t scandalized. You were.”
“Semantics.” He opens the small velvet box.
Inside is a ring. Very different from the one I wear now—an emerald, deep green, set in brushed gold. The color is brilliant. Flawed. Real.
It’s stunning.
“Ryan helped me pick it out. He says the gemstone has plenty of inclusions, but that’s what adds to its beauty.”
I swallow hard. “It’s beautiful.”
“I had hoped you would like it. I’d like to think its flaws tell a story.” He whispers the words as he squeezes my fingers.
“What story?”
“One of struggle. Growth. Resilience. Its imperfection makes it real, like us.”
I slide the ring on slowly, replacing the diamond he once gave me in a moment of obligation. This one feels more like a vow. A choice.
“I love it,” I whisper.
His shoulders relax, slightly. “Now, it shines.” His shoulders tense again. “But, there’s more you need to know about it.”
I’m turning my hand, watching the stone catch the sunlight, when I murmur, “What’s that?”
“If you press it hard between your fingers for more than three seconds, it will set off an alarm.” My eyes fly to his face, and he continues, “It has a tracker in it. It’s as much for your safety as it is for my sanity.”
I grin at this. He may be expecting an argument, but I simply kiss his cheek. “Thank you, baby.”
He takes another deep breath before pulling a key from his pocket. “And this?” he says, holding it out. “This is an apartment in Half Moon Bay. Ocean views. Walkable cafes. A life far from this one. It’s yours too. Not too far from Stanford.”
I stare at it.
