Page 85 of Knotted

I blink, caught completely off guard. Is he testing me? Or does he just assume I’d know because I’m her roommate?

I think it through and decide to play it safe—straightforward and honest. “She decided to dab them in straight coffee. They’re...wearable. And look a little like a barista’s dog marked its territory.”

A soft smile tugs at his lips, enough of a chuckle escaping that I find myself laughing, too. But it fades quickly. “I hoped you’d be here,” he says, his voice almost vulnerable.

Sure. A likely story. “You’re here for your watch.”

“I’m here for my wife.”

His words hit me like a hammer to the chest, and before I can stop it, tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink hard, but it’s no use. The cracks in my composure are all over the map, tearing apart, impossible to hide.

He pauses, his expression softening, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re red and watery, too, like it’s taking every ounce of strength for him to hold it together. Just like me.

“It killed me,” he says quietly, his voice raw. “You, leaving your ring.”

I choke on the words building in my throat, my voice tight, thick with everything Ican’tsay.

Then he adds, “It’s worth more than a cookie, you know.”

“I know.” My breath shudders as a tear breaks loose. “But you saidtemporary, and?—”

“I meant thefit, not the ring.” His voice is tight, like he’s fighting whatever it is he wants to say. Then, as if balancingon the edge of a razor is too much to bear, he blows out a breath. “Dammit, Jules. I can’t do this.”

My heart crumples. I swallow hard, two seconds from bolting when he beats me to it, already on his feet.

I wipe away a tear as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out something small and familiar—mywedding ring. The one I left behind. The one I never thought I’d see again.

He circles around to my side of the table, sliding his seat next to mine until he’s too close, too hot, too much. He takes a seat, and my pulse spikes, but I can’t bring myself to move.

He holds the ring up, letting it catch the light as he studies it. “It should fit now.”

My eyes search his, confused.

“It’s why I was late,” he murmurs. “I was getting it resized.” He takes my hand, the warmth of his fingers against mine as he slips it on. “I want to try for real, Jules.”

Speechless, I stare at him. This man, sitting here with so much emotion swirling between us, it feels like time has stopped, locking us in place.

“Say something,” he whispers, his lips agonizingly close, his breath warm against my skin.

“You’re sure? You’re really sure?”

“I’ve never needed anyone more in my life. Say yes, Peach Pop.”

“Yes,” I whisper, and when our lips finally touch, it’s soft and tender, until the walls between us melt away and nothing exists but us.

His lips sear a slow path down my neck, and without hesitation, he discreetly drags my hand to his length. And whoa, there’s a lot of it. His voice drops, rough and possessive. “Canwe get out of here? I’m two seconds away from showing you—and everyone else in here—just how much I need you.”

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes, and a familiar freckled face with a mop of hair lights up the screen.

Brian pulls away just enough to glance at my phone. “Who’s that?”

I smile, unable to help myself. “That, Mr. Bishop, is your one o’clock cock block.”

CHAPTER 37

Brian

We’re driving through what looks like the quietest suburban area just outside the city. The kind of place where everyone knows each other, lawns are modest but well-kept, and there’s always a dog barking somewhere in the distance.

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