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“I already set him up in the bathroom when I came up here,” he adds.
Nodding, I get to work putting things away as I feel him watch me.
When I’m done, I sit next to him, tired and cold.
“Oh!” he says, sitting up. Grabbing one of his bags, he digs into it, producing a small velvet box. “I almost forgot. Jerry ordered it for you.”
I take it from him, opening it up to find one of the biggest oval diamonds I’ve ever seen situated on a thin silver band.
“Holy shit,”
“Jerry said she stalked your Pinterest.”
“Of course she did.” Why would she have respected my privacy? That’s so unlike her.
I take it out of the box, placing it on my left ring finger before examining it.
It’s beautiful.
But something inside of me hurts.
I always wanted this. Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted this life. Find someone to love me, have kids, and grow old together. But this isn’t love. This isn’t even like.
Part of me wishes he picked it out himself.
“Thank you,” I tell him. He smiles, a dazzling look on him, and grabs a pair of pajamas before heading to the bathroom.
Stripping out of my clothes, I slip on a pair of underwear and an oversized shirt from Ronan’s drawer as I slip into bed, pulling Shiloh into my chest.
Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opens behind me, and I feel Ronan’s body get into bed.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, turning over.
“It’s my bed. You think I’m going to sleep on the chair again?”
“I mean, yeah, that’s kinda what I was thinkin’.”
Ronan rolls his eyes. “Shut up and go to bed. I’m not going to touch you.”
I turn back over, finding comfort in Shiloh’s soft purrs.
Ronan Miller.
Uptight. Mean. Entitled.
Probably a murderer.
Definitely a thief.
In desperate need of a beard.
And now, on paper, he’s my husband.
Twelve years ago
“Sweetie, it’s incredibly important that you understand how important finding someone to live your life with is.”
I sit in my chair, my legs crossed as I pout, placing my chin on my hands.
