I rest my chin on my hand and glance up at Griffin. “Whereismy ring?”
His face pulls into a frown. “How would I know?”
“A lot of my memories from that night are hazy, but I wasn’t so wasted that I don’t remember you sucking that ring off my finger.”
He props his arm behind his head, a subtle smirk forming on his lips. If I weren’t already pregnant, this view might do it.
“Does it matter?” he asks.
“Ha! So, youdoknow where it is.” I shake my head and stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t want it if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What would you do with it if I had it?”
“Drive out to the Willow Valley cliffside and throw it into the lake.”
“Really?”
My thoughts trail back to the day Tyler slid it onto my finger. In that moment, I had never felt more loved, but when I look back now, I see it differently. It never made sense to me that Griffin was there. I’ve had so much time to reflect on that day, and I’ve come to realize Tyler’s ego was always more important than anything else. He was putting on a show, not for me, but for Griffin. I just can’t fathom why it would matter to either of them.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I want closure. That ring is one ofthe last things tying us together.” My heart gives a painful squeeze, and I press my palm to my lower belly. “Almost.”
As if on cue, my stomach gives a loud growl.
“Hungry?” Griffin asks amusedly.
I sigh. “Starving, but the last thing I want is toast or broth or whatever other bland shit I’ve been eating for the last three days.” I pause to do some mental calculations.
The doctor said I could try new things when I reduce the vomiting to less than three times a day.
As if he’s read my thoughts, he says, “You’ve only been sick twice today. I think we can try something else. What does my wife want for dinner?”
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the way he so casually calls me his wife. “I’ve been craving a sourdough BLT with avocado, but…”
“But?”
I shift into a sitting position and pull a blanket around myself. “It won't be the same. There's this little shop in Denver with the most amazing bread. It just hits different, you know?”
He swings his legs over the side of the couch and pulls on his jeans, but not before I get a glimpse of his round ass in all its glory. He glances over his shoulder and catches me staring. His lips roll together. “I can’t exactly fly to Colorado right now. Have you tried Catalano’s?”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a family-owned deli in Willow Valley. Callie should be getting off work soon. I can have her pick it up for us.”
“I guess it’s worth a shot.”
An hour later, Callie drops off a large brown paper bag, but she doesn’t stick around long to chat. She has her prenatal appointment to check on the twins.
Griffin unpacks the food onto the coffee table and passes me the box with my avocado BLT inside. I take a large bite, savoring the combination of flavors. The avocado is fresh and creamy, the bacon is savory, and the mayo adds the perfect amount of tang. Even the tomato and lettuce are crisp and flavorful. It would be the perfect sandwich except…
“You don’t like it,” Griffin says.
It’s not a question. How the hell does he read me so well?
“No, I do. It’s really freaking good. It’s just not Denver.”
“It’s okay. I can make you something else if you want.”
I shake my head and take another bite. It’s a great sandwich, it’s just notmysandwich. Maybe it’s not the perfectly crispy crust or the soft, chewy middle, or even the flavor I’ve been craving. Maybe it’s the nostalgia and the memories of my old life that come with it.
