Page 39 of Bloom: Part 2

“You’re right.” He took bites with more restraint. It was funny, cute actually, how eager he was, but he didn’t budge on my suggestion we should try dessert. He was having none of it with his desire to go ring shopping as if he thought I would change my mind. Giving up, I requested the bill.

“Are you going to use the money the state gave me?” he asked.

I frowned, taking out my credit card. “Why would I use your money? That’s yours. When you’re with me, you never have to pay for anything. I have more than enough for both of us.”

“But that’s not fair to you.”

“If you want, you can contribute to the tip.” A compromise was good, but I refused to take his money to pay for a meal I’d invited him to.

“I can do that. Crowe gives me an allowance that…”

“He doesn’t need to do that anymore.”

He chuckled uneasily and ran his fingers through his hair. “Sure, I’ll tell him, but we all get money for chipping in and helping with club business.”

“That’s fine, but he doesn’tneedto take care of you. That’s my job now.”

“Okay, Logan. Can we get my ring now?”

12

BLOOM

Iloved my engagement ring. Couldn’t stop holding my hand out in front of me to stare at it. In fact, I’d removed all my other rings because they seemed too distracting now. The ring gleamed against my finger, dark and beautiful, and just the thing I’d never dreamed of wearing. Who wanted to marry someone broken like me? Turned out Logan did so much that he’d spent a ridiculous amount on my ring just because I fell in love with it instantly before we found out the price.

It wasn’t a typical engagement ring. This was something else entirely. Something that fit me. The band was blackened silver with tiny blood-red garnets and a subtle twist, almost like vines, wrapping around my finger. In the center was a black diamond—I didn’t even know those existed and were apparently rare, so expensive—cut low and smooth, barely catching the light.

Unless someone looked closely, they probably couldn’t tell it was an engagement ring. A promise Logan made to give me his last name. I was pretty sure there were easier ways for me to have a surname, but I preferred his method, so I wouldn’t tell him that.

I twisted my hand and wriggled my fingers so the light could catch every angle, grinning like an idiot as we made our way through the mall. I was too focused on admiring it to care if anyone noticed. This ring wasn’t flashy; it didn’t screamengagement.It was private, understated, and deeply, unmistakablymine.

“You’re going to walk into a wall if you don’t watch where you’re going.” Logan pulled me away from a chattering group of teenagers I would have walked right through.

“You’re the one who bought me something so perfect I can’t look away. It’s so pretty, and you can’t take back your promise now.”

“Who says I want to take it back? But you’d better think of a way to reward me later.”

“Hmm, you saying that wouldn’t have anything to do with the something black and lacy you picked out in the lingerie shop, would it?”

“Maybe.” He shifted the shopping bags in his hand so he could take my arm. “Now you’ve got your ring. Can I treat you to ice cream?”

“With salted caramel?”

“Sure.” He steered me toward an empty table and placed the bags on one of the chairs. “Stay right here, and I’ll get them for us.”

I waved absentmindedly, my attention back on my ring. Logan was going to marry me. The bikers would shit their pants when they found out. But Crowe… Fuck, Crowe had barely come to terms with me dating Logan. He wouldn’t like this at all. And if Dr. Simms found out… All the more reason for me to stick to my guns and not see him anymore. Though that didn’t help my case with Crowe.

Who cares? I’m getting married!

A streak of light snapped me out of my trance. I blinked, momentarily disoriented, and glanced up. A stranger stood a few feet away, snapping photos of me. Was it me? I looked behind me, but there was no one there.

“Hey, what the fuck you think you’re doing?” I yelled, rising to my feet with my hands doubled into fists. The man was tall, Logan’s height, same dark brown hair too, and built.

He lowered his camera, then snapped another photo and hurried away. I wanted to go after him and make him delete whatever footage he had of me, but I’d promised Logan I would wait for him at the table. The weirdo probably planned to sell my pictures online or jerk off to them. Gross.

Logan returned, sat across from me, and placed a cup with two scoops of ice cream on the table. “There you go. Eat up. After, I’ll take you back to the clubhouse so you can rest. You must be tired. Your body’s still not fully healed, you know.”

“I know. You tell me all the time.”

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