Page 69 of David's Chase

From inside, he retrieves a jewelry box.

“All eyes will be on me…” I say, distracted by the velvet box in his hand.

“And?”

He opens the box and scoops out a pair of diamond earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet.

“Is that a problem?” he goes on.

“No. Not at all.”

I’m lying.Of course it’s a problem. People will know I don’t belong.

I tip my gaze down once again before staring at him, choking on emotions.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” I say. “She must’ve been a very fortunate woman.”

“You’d think,” he says, his voice mixed with sadness.

Something tells me that the woman’s story is not that great.

“Do you want to put the shoes on?”

“Yes. Sure.”

He removes the lid and pulls out a pair of pink stilettos.

A lump forms in my neck.

He clearly had something special in mind when he picked out the dress and matching shoes.

What ruined their story?

I slide my feet into the shoes, and he helps me put the jewelry on, his closeness making my knees shake a little.

Is this life baiting me, making me fall for him only to pull the rug from under me a little later?

How can I not fall for him when he touches my skin like I’m the most precious thing in the world?

How can I ignore the fact that the dress, shoes, and jewelry––maybe not the jewelry–-were meant for someone else, someone important to him, and now I’m wearing them?

He runs his eyes over me with satisfaction and pride as if I’m his woman.

Me… Elizabeth.

His fictional wife.

I wish we could go somewhere private tonight, with no company of any kind, no crowds, no public, nothing to threatenmy newfound universe, blossoming happiness, and bourgeoning make–believe.

“You look perfect,” he says before kissing my cheek so he won't mess with my crimson lipstick.

There is something I want to say so badly, but I’m so lost in this fantasy that my mind goes blank.

He squeezes my hand slightly to make me come to my senses.

“Oh… Yes,” I mumble. “Thank you for saying that. And for all this,” I say, pointing to my outfit and my jewelry.

“You’re welcome. It’s all yours,” he says nonchalantly, and I don’t know what to say.

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