I swallow. “You… you asked me to be your wife.”
But he surprises me, like he does, when his lips curl into a smile at the sound of that.
The menu in his hands is back on the table and his eyes are on mine as he says, “No, angel. I never asked.”
Rowan
Her beautiful plump lips are moving with the sound of a question, but all I can think of is that ring on her finger. Fuck. I waited too long. I should’ve done this way sooner. All this time I told myself I couldn’t do it—couldn’t give my heart to one woman and be someone I’m not. But with Dove, none of thatmattered. She saw me for who I am—scarred, and controlling, and with dangerous impulses, and she loved me regardless. I know I scare her sometimes. That I challenge her beliefs and make her furious with me. But she sees everything else about me… everything else I didn’t think I was.
“Back when you came to my apartment that night,” she says, shifting in her seat, “when Jared came by…” I flinch at the mention of that asshole’s name. “You told me I always had a choice. That I could leave at any time. Did you lie to me then?”
“No.”
“But is that still… Do you still mean that?”
The question doesn’t worry me like it should. If she thinks I’ll let her go, she’s wildly mistaken. At first, I only said it because I hadn’t come to terms with involving her in my world. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, and it was her right to back out. But now… things are way fucking different now.
I know my silence comes as a surprise when I pull out the pink ribbon from my chest pocket. The thin layer of satin molds to my touch as my fingers play with it on the table—it feels the same, maybe a little worn out, but still the same as it’s always felt in my hands whenever I took it out over the years. Across the table, Dove’s restlessness is almost palpable as she struggles to remember the item.
“It’s yours,” I say, continuing to look at it. “Picked it up from your apartment one day.You were out, having drinks with Sterling. So I went in, and I just…” The corner of my lips twitches. “I saw a bunch of ribbons on the backrest of your chair. I didn’t think you’d notice if I took one.”
Her voice comes out soft, reverent, as if the memory comes back to her on a gentle wind. “I did.”
“You did. You freaked out over it, thinking you’d gone mad.” I laugh and lift my gaze, seeing how fucking beautiful she is in the little red dress I bought her. I could get used to this—dressing her like my own personal fuck doll. My beautiful, smart, innocent fuck doll.
She crosses her arms. “I like to be organized, and I remember where I put things. You know that.”
I do know that. I know everything about you, because you’re my favorite thing to look at.
“I held on to it,” I continue. “Had it in the chest pocket of my uniform all the time. This pink ribbon was often the only colorful thing in a room full of grim faces and disgusting news. And I felt it there, against my chest, and I could breathe a little easier knowing you were with me. I know it sounds crazy, but I made do with what I had—anypart of you was better than none. And I did this for years and years and years until the day I called.”
Her brows pull together as if to scold me, but the restrained smile gives away how she’s really feeling about it.
“So I hope you can understand when I tell you, Dove, that you can ask me for anything,anythingin this world, except… giving you up. Not after everything.”
Her hair sways with the movement when she shakes her head. “I can’t believe you, you know? You’re the most insane person I’ve ever met.” She huffs a sweet little laugh. But there’s something else behind that laugh… a kernel of something sad that makes my wrath flicker under my skin, reminding me of the day I lost her. “I don’t want that. I’m not trying to say I want out. But Rowan, I don’t think you should marry me when—”
I listen with all my senses perked up, but the server Marco brought with him from the restaurant approaches the table, and she goes silent, back into her head.
“Good evening, Sir… Madam…, may I take your order, or would you like more time to decide?”
“We’ll need more—”
“No, that’s all right,” Dove chimes in, smiling at him. I blink, taken aback by the simple gesture. The fact that she’s stillsmiling after everything that happened to her makes my chest tighten—with guilt, and pride, and a flicker of relief. The server returns it, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with needing to rip his fucking mouth with the butter knife in front of me. Dove continues, “I think I’ll have the famous arancini, please.”
“Certainly. And for you, sir?”
My voice comes out tense. “Two of those. And a bottle of Massandra sherry.”
“Excellent choice. Mr. Bellini is eager to cook for you again.”
I drum my fingers on the table, eager for him to leave us alone. When he does retreat back to the house, I hold my breath for whatever else Dove is ready to talk about. No matter what troubles her pretty mind, it’s my job to find out and fix it for her. It’s what a good fucking husband does.
She blinks, avoiding my stare. “I haven’t met your parents. You haven’t met my mom—not properly. Sterling doesn’t even know what happened to me. And, of course…” she adds as an afterthought, “I don’t know if I’ll live to see another day. I guess… I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t want this to be rushed because we’re running out of time and—”
This isn’t what I was hoping she’d think about tonight, but I suppose we were going to get here eventually. She’s right, but at the same time sheisn’t, because I’ve already taken care of everything she’s worried about. Only I can’t tell her that without having to answer questions I don’t want her knowing the answers to.
“Hey.” I extend my arm around the small table. “Come here. Come into my arms.”
