Ransome doesn’t respond to that. But he does turn around and slap a stack of papers on the counter. Then he stands back, looks at me, and waits.
“What is that?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee and relishing it. If he wasn’t standing here, I’d probably chuck that French press out the window. But I am curious about all the paper work sitting on the counter between us. “I don’t suppose it’s my schedule.”
I’m joking, but he’s not smiling. And after I walk over and see the bolded words on the top of the first page, I’m not smiling either.
I look up at Ransome. He just nods for me to keep reading. It’s about fifty pages of legal jargon, which doesn’t exactly make for a light read. Most people just flip through the morning paper.
I finger through it anyway.
Then I realize what it is and set it back down.
It can’t be.
What the hell?
My breath is gone from my lungs, but I force the question anyway. “Divorce papers?”
Surely I am seeing things. Maybe it’s the lack of coffee. Maybe there’s something in the coffee. Either way, it can’t be. Can it? “I don’t understand.”
Ransome steps closer. “I love you.”
My heart drops through a trap door in my chest.
I gasp.
Did he really just say that?
“But… you’re married,” I remind him.
Ransome steps even closer, closing the rest of the space between us. “I don’t care. I want to be with you. I’m getting a divorce.”
“Can you do that?” As my chin begins to quiver, I realize I am shaking.
Ransome smirks, a rare sight that sends my heart launching back up into my chest. “I can do anything I want.”
He wants to marry me. Ransome wants to marry me. He wants to be my husband, not just my baby daddy. He wants to come home to me, take me to business dinners on his arm, parade me in front of flashing cameras and show the world I’m his. He doesn’t want me to be his dirty little secret anymore.
He wants me to be his.
And he wants to be mine.
It’s more than I ever expected. After I found out he was married—to Jenica of all people—I’d quietly given up hope of ever having a life in the light with him. Slowly, I started shaving off pieces of myself just so I’d fit into whatever space he was willing to make for me. It was painful, but it was better than nothing.
Now he’s telling me I’ll never have to make myself smaller again.
Still, this is a lot. It’s also more complicated than just what Ransome wants. “What about the truce?”
Ransome puts his hands on my hips. His palms stretch over my belly. Big, strong, protective. “I don’t care about that either,dorogoya.”
His gravelly voice sends a breakout of goosebumps all over my body. “But your family?—”
“I don’t care about family traditions either. They’re asinine anyways. It’s not like me being married to Jenica is actually going to stop people like Tristan from doing what they want. So.” He shrugs. “I’m getting divorced.”
It sounds too good to be true. Too beautiful.
But Ransome is looking at me, his eyes the color of the sky rather than ice, and I know he isn’t lying. Not this time.
When he kisses me, I melt into it. The firmness of his body, the possessive press of his lips on mine—it’s all perfect. It makes my knees go weak.
