“Is that how you address your husband?”
“It is when my husband acts like he’s not a man of his word. But I digress. Is everything okay?” I asked, genuinely curious despite my irritation.
“It will be. When I make it back, we’re going to talk. When I said I’d make it up to you, I meant that.”
“We’ll see, you?—”
“I’m sorry, and I don’t say that often. Go back to your friends. I just needed to get you away from the living room.” The line went dead, and I stared at the phone in irritation.
I left the office even more annoyed than I was before. “Malice, next time he calls, tell him I’m—” I started to go off, but stopped dead in my tracks.
The elevator doors were open, and a steady stream of delivery people moved through my living room like an army of florists. Two men carried in massive arrangements of red roses, setting them on every available surface. A woman directed traffic, checking items off a clipboard as more bouquets continued to arrive.
Rebecca and Yaslynn had pressed themselves against the far wall, watching the organized chaos with their mouths hanging open.
“Ma’am, where would you like these?” one of the delivery men asked, holding an arrangement so large it nearly blocked his face.
I stood frozen, watching my penthouse transform before my eyes. Dozens of bouquets were being arranged throughout the space, expensive gift bags appearing on the coffee table and couch where my friends had been sitting just minutes ago.
“Anywhere is fine,” I managed, still trying to process what was happening.
The delivery supervisor approached me with a tablet. “Mrs. Grimson? We need a signature confirming delivery of the premium apology package. Two hundred red rose arrangements, the luxury gift collection, and champagne service.”
I signed the tablet numbly, watching as the last of the arrangements filtered in. Within minutes, they were gone, leaving behind a living room that looked more like a florist shop than my apartment.
“Chanel, Tiffany, Hermès... Colecion, how much money does this man have?” Rebecca asked.
I moved through the sea of flowers, fingers brushing card after card. They all said the same thing.
I’m sorry. – L
“This is insane,” I muttered.
“Insane?” Yaslynn held up a jewelry box she’d already opened. “These are real diamonds. This bracelet probably costs more than my car.”
“Who did you marry again?” Rebecca asked, sinking into the couch between gift bags. “And don’t say it’s complicated. I’m tired of that answer.”
Looking around at the roses, the boxes, the luxury swallowing up my living room, I realized I didn’t have an answershe’d believe. All I knew was I was in deeper than I ever planned to be.
“One day I’ll tell you everything,” I said softly. “But not right now. Just know I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Mrs. Grimson, one more thing.” Malice appeared again, extending a tiny velvet bag.
“Thank you, Malice.” My voice cracked as I took it. All eyes stayed on me while he left, the door clicking shut behind him, the silence pressing in as heavy as the pouch in my palm.
“Open it,” Yaslynn pressed, leaning forward on the edge of her seat. “Don’t keep us waiting.”
With fingers that didn’t feel steady, I loosened the drawstring, tipped the small box into my hand, and flipped it open.
The air left the room. A chocolate diamond caught the light, bold and unapologetic, surrounded by white diamonds that winked like stars. My girls gasped, hands flying to their mouths.
“Jesus Christ,” Rebecca whispered. “That thing is massive.”
“Is that an apology ring,” Yaslynn asked slowly, eyes narrowing, “or your wedding ring?”
For a moment, I just looked at it. Beautiful, rich, deep, decadent. My ring. My nickname carved into the stone itself. He hadn’t just thought of me, he’d thought ahead. Way ahead. Two steps in front of me, like he always was. But what did it all mean?
And then my phone buzzed. I glanced down and froze. A photo filled the screen—his hand, a thick platinum-and-diamond band glinting in the light. He was wearing his.
