Page 50 of Fake Wife

He pushes away from the table, tucks some pages back together into a neat pile on the table, and leaves the room.

Once he’s disappeared from view, my shoulders sag and I press the palm of my hand to my forehead.

God. I knew this day was going to be difficult. I just wasn’t expecting it to start so stressful and cool. The same ice that fell over me last night when Corbin broke our kiss returns, and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself to get warm.

It’s useless.

Somehow I feel like I’ve majorly screwed up, but what else did he expect?

I push back from the table and head to the kitchen and refill my mug. I’m taking the first hot sip from it when Corbin returns to the kitchen.

He stops a few feet in front of me.

“I liked last night, you know,” he says, and his words shock me to my marrow. My coffee mug freezes at my lips and it’s all I can do not to drop it. “I liked everything about you being in my workshop with me, the way you liked what you saw. I liked how you tasted, Teagan.”

Holy shit. Is he saying this? He is.

He steps forward and I move back until I hit the corner of the kitchen counter and can’t move out of his reach.

He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of me, inches of space between us.

Oh my God. I set down my mug for fear of dropping it on his feet.

“Corbin—”

“You took off and I don’t know what you’re thinking, but that shit on the table tells me you’re not thinking or wanting the same thing as me.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” I’m breathless, my voice soft. It’s drowned out by the thundering in my heart, pounding in my ears. My knees are so weak I might collapse. I reach out and grab the counter to steady myself.

I have no idea what he’s saying, what he wants.

“I know.” He blinks several times, shakes his head, and meets my gaze with blue eyes that are as frigid as ice. “The shit of it is, you’re so far lost inside your head at keeping all of this platonic that there’s no way you can understand what I’m trying to tell you, what I want, so I’m not going to waste my breath right now.”

He steps back and reaches into his back jeans pocket, runs his other hand through his hair, and sighs. “This ring was my grandma’s,” he says as he holds out a navy blue box. “Not her engagement ring, but it’s old and worth a fucking fortune. She loved this ring.”

He opens the box, and it takes me a moment to draw my stunned look from his harsh gaze, which only softens when he talks about his grandma, and down to the ring. My breath stalls.

“My God.” I reach out to touch it, but pull my fingers back, pressing them to my lips.

The band is silver, thin and elegant, with a trellis scrolling all around it. Diamonds surround the large oval sapphire, giving it a halo effect. This ring is dainty and elegant, beautiful and simple in its design. It’s not vintage inspired, it’svintage.Old. He’s not joking.

I’m trembling, and not for the right reasons. I can only begin to piece together the cryptic words he said before he shoved the world’s most beautiful ring in front of me.

This isn’t how I want to be proposed to.

I don’t want my future husband angry with me for any reason, or us not being on the same page. I’d thought we had been. It’s not the first time I’d be wrong when it came to a man, though, and right now, I have no idea how to fix any of it.

“Corbin.”

He removes the ring from the box and takes my hand in his. “We can get it sized later if it doesn’t fit, but I thought you’d like this more than a diamond. Seems more fitting for you.”

“It’s so beautiful. I’m afraid to wear it.”

He slides the ring on, holding my hand tenderly. Warmth from his fingertips shoots electric zaps up my arm so strongly I’m burning.

It’s loose, but not so loose it will fall off. “I don’t need it sized.”

For the first time, I touch the ring, spin it around my finger. I don’t want it sized, don’t want to risk it being damaged.

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