Jake steps inside, shoulders tight, jaw set in that post-practice way.
“Hey,” I call from the kitchen.
His expression shifts the second he sees me.
There it is again. That softness.
“Hey,” he replies.
We spend the evening the way we’ve quietly fallen into doing: cooking, talking, eating.
But now there’s something new woven into it.
Between stirring and chopping, Jake steals lingering kisses. Light touches. So many hugs.
God, his hugs are unfairly good.
After dinner, he pushes back his chair and walks toward the sideboard near the hallway.
He clears his throat. “I want to give you something.”
My heart skips. “Is it a present?”
He glances back at me, expression unreadable. “No.”
I frown. “Then what is it?”
He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a small velvet box.
My stomach drops.
“It’s something I owe you,” he says simply.
He steps closer and opens the box.
Inside is a ring.
And let’s just say it has nothing in common with the Vegas version.
This one is… stunning.
Delicate, but unmistakably expensive. A slim band with a diamond that catches the light and fractures it into tiny sparks across the walls.
I stare at it, speechless.
“It’s too much,” I breathe.
“It’s not.”
“It is,” I insist. “Jake, this is—”
“I told you I’d get you something better,” he cuts in gently. “And I haven’t forgotten.”
I shake my head faintly. “Maybe you could’ve gone a little more… budget-friendly?”
He steps closer, closing the box halfway, but not fully.
“I picked out the exact ring I want to give you,” he says quietly. “So don’t insult me by refusing it. You know I can afford it.”
