Paige stood in the hallway, and my phone nearly slipped from my fingers. The emerald green dress I had delivered hugged every skin with softer and sinful curves that were fuller after Lily. The neckline dipped just low enough to make my mouth go dry, and the fabric clung to her waist before flowing to just above her knees. That was one dangerous fucking dress.
Her blonde hair was swept to one side, exposing the elegant line of her neck. She had done something with makeup that made her eyes look impossibly large, impossibly gold, and her lips?—
Fuck me. Her red lips made me remember exactly how they felt pressed against mine.
“Is it too much?” She asked, smoothing her hands down the dress nervously. “I can change if?—”
“No,” I said roughly and cleared my throat to try again. “No, you look... you look perfect, Paige.”
Perfect didn’t even begin to cover it. She was beautiful, but she had been off-limits for so long that I had trained myself not to notice. Not to look at her that way. Not to let my thoughts wander down paths that would only torture me.
Now, with permission to look—with an actual contract giving me permission—I couldn’t fucking stop. And it was overwhelming.
I want to peel that dress off and bury myself in her while she makes the same sound she did when we kissed.
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” she said, blushing. “Very James Bond.”
“I was going for Ryan Gosling, but I’ll take it,” I said, even though my brain was still short-circuiting.
She laughed, and the sound made me feel warm. I looked away and saw her empty hands.
Oh, the ring.
“I, uh—” I fumbled with the velvet box in my pocket, my usually steady hands turning clumsy. “I-I got you something for tonight a-and to make it look more…”
“Real?” she asked softly.
“Y-yeah,” I said, opening the box, and even in the low lighting of my living room, the soft diamond glittered between us. “Real.”
Paige’s eyes widened. “Derek, that’s… that’s too much. I can’t wear that.”
“You can, and you will. It’s perfect for you.” I pulled the ring from the box, and my hands were shaking.
When was the last time my hands had shaken? When I held Lily for the first time.
“And people will expect to see a ring. We’re supposed to be madly in love, remember?”
She stared at the ring as if it might bite her. “It must have cost a fortune.”
“It’s an investment in selling our story.” That was technically true, even though I had spent three hours yesterday at the jeweler’s finding one that matched her eyes. Even if I imagined sliding it onto her finger for real.
“Please, Paige. Wear it tonight?”
I was about to get on my knees when she bit her lip and slowly extended her left hand. I took it gently, aware of how small her hand looked in mine, how delicate her fingers were.
The diamond ring slid on her middle finger (I hadn’t proposed to her yet) as if it had been made for her. Which, technically, it had been since I had guessed the size correctly.
“It fits,” she whispered, staring at her hand like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Yeah,” I said, my throat feeling tight. “It does.”
We stood there for a moment too long, her hand still in mine, both of us staring at the ring that symbolized something fake but felt extremely real.
Then she pulled away, and the spell broke.
“The babysitter should be here any minute,” I said, checking my watch to avoid looking at her. To avoid doing something stupid like pulling her back to me and kissing her again. “Her name’s Sarah. She came highly recommended, has references, and?—”
“Derek,” Paige said, touching my arm, and even through the tuxedo jacket I felt the warmth of her hand. “Thank you. For everything. The dress, the ring, arranging childcare. You didn’t have to do all this.”
