“Yes. That’s what you do. It’s what you’vealwaysdone. You don’t take me seriously?—”
“I don’t take you seriously?” His voice dropped. “Darling, are you kidding me?”
Anger flared again. “What else am I supposed to think? Should I just keep believing your promises—you don’t exactly have the best track record.”
His shoulders slumped for the briefest second—then straightened. “I take you very seriously, Ethan,” he said quietly. “I always have.”
“Fuckingwords?—”
Sebastian turned and walked away.
“Hey!” I followed, pulse pounding. “We are not done. You don’t get to walk away. I want answers.”
He crossed the room to the far wall, reached for the bookshelf, fingers finding something I couldn’t see. A keypad chirped.
“I’m serious, Sebastian?—”
Metal clicked. The safe opened, and he reached inside.
“You can’t just?—”
He turned back and placed something on the table with a heavy, absolute thud.
I stopped.
“So am I,” he said, his voice calm as he lifted his hand. “I’ve never been more serious.”
A small black jewelry box sat there.
The kind that held promises.
Real ones.
Permanent ones.
My breath hitched.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ETHAN
My heart was lodged somewhere in my throat, pulse roaring in my ears. “What the hell is that?”
Sebastian stayed exactly where he was. “What do you think?”
“It better be a fucking car.” My eyes snapped back to his. “Because the alternative is that you’ve lost your fucking mind.”
The corners of his lips curved, eyes softening just a fraction as he tipped his chin toward it. “Open it.”
My body refused to cooperate. Muscles locked, feet rooted to the floor. Frozen. Possibly forever.
“No.” My voice came out thin. “You open it.”
“It’s not for me.”
I blew out a sharp breath and stepped back, rubbing my knuckles under my nose, eyes glued to the small black box like it might detonate. “When did you get that?”
“Four years ago.”
