Chapter sixty-two
Freya
I’m still turning the bracelet over on my wrist when I realise I haven’t really moved from where I was standing. The room around me feels slightly blurred at the edges, like everything has softened into the background and the only thing in focus is this small, delicate piece of gold sitting against my skin, catching the light every time I shift my hand, the tiny diamond glinting just enough to remind me it’s real. Because itisreal. That’s the part I can’t quite get my head around. Not the cost, not the fact it’s Cartier, not even the fact that Rory Bennett stood in a room full of people and bid fifteen thousand pounds without blinking. It’s the date. My thumb brushes over it again, slower this time, tracing each number like I might somehow feel the meaning of it if I take long enough. The day neither of us had any idea what the other would become.
“Still staring at it?” Rory’s voice cuts gently through my thoughts, low and warm from somewhere just in front of me. I let out a small breath, something that almost sounds like a laugh as I glance over my shoulder at him.
“I can’t not,” I admit. “It’s a bit… overwhelming.”
He leans casually against the doorframe, watching me in that quiet way of his that feels like he’s taking everything in without needing to say much.
“It’s just a bracelet.”
I give him a look. “It is absolutely not just a bracelet.”
That earns me the smallest hint of a smile, like he was expecting that.
I turn back to it for a second longer before finally lowering my hand. “Why that date?” I ask again, even though he’s already told me, because I want to hear it properly this time, not through the haze of everything else that had been happening. He doesn’t hesitate.
“Because that’s when you became mine.”
I blink, my head tilting slightly. “I was eight.”
“You were a nightmare,” he corrects.
I let out a short laugh. “I was not a nightmare.”
I shake my head, smiling, the memories settling between us in a way that feels easy, familiar, like we’ve stepped back into something that’s always been there rather than creating something new from scratch. But underneath that lightness, there’s still something else lingering. I shift slightly, my fingers brushing absently over the bracelet again as I look at him properly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, quieter now.
He straightens slightly, his expression softening almost immediately. “For what?”
“For not asking you,” I reply. “For just… deciding what it meant without giving you the chance to explain.”
He watches me for a second, like he’s weighing that up. “You thought I’d hurt you.”
“I thought I was about to get hurt,” I correct gently.
There’s a difference. A big one.
“I’ve been that person before,” I add, my voice steady but softer now. “The one who sees something coming and ignores it because it’s easier to pretend everything’s fine.”
“And you didn’t want to do that again.”
“No.”
A small silence settles between us, not uncomfortable, just honest.
“I don’t want this to be something where I’m constantly trying to work out where I stand,” I continue, holding his gaze now. “I need to feel like I actually know.”
“You do,” he says simply.
I nod slightly, but I don’t let it go. “I mean it, Rory. I don’t want to just fall into something that feels good and hope it works itself out.”
His expression shifts slightly at that, something more serious settling in. “I’m not hoping it works itself out.”
“Good,” I say, a small breath leaving me. “Because I don’t want that either.”
