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“I know what they say. And I don’t give a shit. I wanted you—and your name—on me.”
“What is your mom going to think?”
“Well, she’s probably never going to see it, because I don’t take my shirt off around her,” he said. “But even if she does, I’m not going to care what she thinks. The only opinion I care about is yours. Which, I might add, you haven’t even given me, yet.” He gave her a pointed look over his shoulder.
She trailed her eyes over the beautifully detailed tattoo; Therese was very skilled. “It’s beautiful,” she told him truthfully. “But I still can’t believe you did this.”
“You keep saying that.” He turned around to fully face her. “But I feel like you’re trying to say something else. So just say it.”
She didn’t even know how to say it and didn’t think his reaction would be good when she did.
“I think it’s beautiful,” she began slowly. “I do. And I can’t even tell you what it means to me that you did this. But what happens if … there’s another woman in your life? She won’t like seeing me—or my name—inked on your back.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. The conversation wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would and he wasn’t happy about that. In fact, he was starting to feel worse than he’d ever thought possible. “You think there’s going to be another woman in my life? Is that what you think? Because that’s not going to happen.”
“How can you be so sure? We haven’t even been together a year.”
Silence descended between them for a moment and David paced away from her, his hands going to rub his face before falling to his sides again. Her eyes took in the details of his tattoo again and she swallowed hard.
“Am I in this alone?” His voice was whisper soft. “Is this just fucking to you?”
“No,” she was quick to assure him. “No. You’re not in this alone. And this isn’t just fucking to me.”
Still facing away from her, he asked, “Do you love me, Paige? You say you do, but do you really love me? Or is it just something you say because I say it?”
“Yes, I really love you. But …”
“What?”
“But I just don’t know how real it is.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re twenty-two years old—”
“Almost twenty-three, actually.”
“—and I don’t know if it’s ‘Till death do us part’ love.”
David drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as her words pierced him. “Well, I do.”
He went to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. She watched him lean down and grab something before standing up straight once again, one of his hands in a fist. Not bothering to shut the drawer, he walked toward her and said, “Every time I say I love you, I mean it in an all-consuming, gut-wrenching way. This is it for me, Paige.”
He let his fingers fall open with a noticeable tremor. Astounded, Paige gazed at the stunning ring resting in the palm of his hand, unable to blink for a moment. The setting was platinum, with a large, golden-brown, oval gemstone as its centerpiece, surrounded by little diamonds.
“I bought this two months ago,” he revealed, looking down at it. “I know it’s not your typical engagement ring, but once I saw it, everything else looked so ordinary. It’s called a chocolate diamond and immediately made me think of your beautiful eyes … and nothing else in the store would do.”
She stared at him. “Are you fucking crazy?”
David’s gaze met hers, his expression resolute. “Maybe,” he said, with a shrug. “Probably. But I know what I want, and what I want is you.” He picked up the ring with his forefinger and thumb and then held it out toward her, glad to see his hand a little steadier now. “So, are you going to marry me, or what?”
Chapter 15
Four and a half years ago
The law office of Goodman & Goodman was tastefully decorated, with soothing, cream colored walls, high-end furniture, and beautiful artwork that Paige actually thought she’d like to have hanging in her own home—if she could afford artwork, that is.
As she sat with her lawyer in the reception area anxiously awaiting her turn, she picked a few cat hairs off her navy skirt and recalled how she had debated way too long over what to wear that morning, as if there was a dress code for signing divorce papers. She hadn’t wanted to look too nice, but she hadn’t wanted to look too somber, either, so she’d ended up in the navy skirt and a coordinating navy and cream striped blouse. It was something that she had previously worn for a job interview (for a job she didn’t get), but it had felt ‘occasion neutral’ and seemed like a good choice.
