Page 127 of Monochrome Without You
I huff a quiet laugh. “You haven’t asked yet, so no.”
His smirk softens into something more genuine. “Jules,” he says, voice laced with amusement, “will you be my girlfriend?”
I laugh again, shaking my head. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I think I’d like that.”
When we reach the table, Tate is still grinning like Christmas came early.
Then, before I can fully process what’s happening, Corbin slides his fingers over the diamond band on my right hand. My breath hitches. Slowly, deliberately, he removes it, his thumb skimming over my bare skin.
He looks at me, waiting.
I hesitate—but only for a second—before extending my left hand.
Silently, carefully, he slides the ring onto my fourth finger.
Where it used to be.
My heart thunders so loudly I think he must hear it.
Corbin smiles, satisfied, like this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.
And yet, something in me doesn’t settle.
Because even now, with my wedding ring back where it once belonged, he still hasn’t said it.
And until he does—until he tells me he loves me—I don’t know if I fully trust that this is real.
Chapter Thirty
Corbin
Jules is reading Tate his bedtime story, and I watch from the doorway, silent and still. I’ve traveled a bit, seen mountains at sunrise, oceans at dusk, but there’s no view on Earth as perfect as this one. I could stand here forever and never get tired of the sight.
Tate is curled up against her, his head resting on her shoulder as she runs her fingers gently through his hair. They’re reading a book about construction trucks, his current obsession. He knows every word by heart, but you’d never know it. Every page is a new adventure, and he watches her like she’s the one holding the world together.
She kind of is.
Jules is a great mom. The very best kind. She leads with love, soft but strong. She’s present. Affectionate. Creative. She’d give Tate anything. Shehasgiven him everything. She’d deny herself what she wants—what she needs—just to make sure he’s okay.
And for a long time, she did.
Back when we were married, I didn’t always see it. I didn’t protect her the way she protected us. I didn’t make sureshewas happy or safe. But I see it now.
And I want to do better now.
Iwilldo better now.
The story ends, and Jules quietly slips out of Tate’s bed. She pulls the comforter up to his chin, turns on the nightlight, and clicks off the lamp. I walk over and press a kiss to his forehead as she smooths the blanket one last time.
“I love us all being together,” Tate murmurs sleepily.
Jules stiffens beside me.
“Sleep tight, bud,” I say, ruffling his hair.
“I love you,” Jules adds softly.
We both step out of the room, pulling the door closed behind us, and I canfeelthe tension radiating off her as we make our way downstairs.
