Page 123 of Not A Whisper

“Actually,” Grant counters sharply. “Speak up about it. A Gipson wouldn’t tolerate any of that nonsense.”

“Our doll doesn’t know to hold back her tongue, she’ll be fine,” Trip says, a smirk finally cracking his sour expression.

Grant smiles but his eyes flash as he regards me. “A great line of defense against most wagging tongues will be to show them who you belong to.”

Part of me bristles at the ‘belong to’ part, but I swallow my tongue as my eyes drop back to his hand that turns upward and opens. There, in the middle of his palm, is a deep-green velvet box. Aringbox.

My whole body locks up with surprise. I don’t know why. Not really. I mean, Grant told me they had a ring for me. Yet hearing about it and seeing it are two totally different things. Grant reaches forward with this other hand to open the box.

Part of me doesn’t want him to.

Seeing the ring,wearinga ring, will make what this is between all of us real. As in,real-real. It’s only been six days since I learned that I was married. During that time, my emotions have ranged from furious to defeated, overwhelmed to acceptance. You’d think seeing my new name on my driver’s license or having myhusbandstorm into my boss’s office to get my job back or, hell, telling my friend about the marriage should’ve been enough to legitimize the situation.

And yet I’m finding myself wildly conflicted as the box opens.

The ring comes into focus. As it does, everything else falls away.

Holy fucking shit. Those three words are bold, loud, and the only ones that come to mind as my gaze fastens onto the massive emerald. The rectangular cut of the gem elongates it to an absurd size. The smaller circular diamonds that surround the emerald are there to emphasize the deep-green gem, as if anyone could’ve missed it in the first place. It sits on an understated, simple rose gold band that catches in the light.

I don’t realize my jaw has dropped until my tongue grows dry. Slowly, as the rest of the world comes back into focus, I force my mouth to close. Tearing my gaze away from the ring, I look up at Grant. His eyes are watching me, a heavy smirk twisting his mouth. Does he know this thing is probably worthmore than my life? Judging by the smugness in his expression, probably.

But there’s something in his eyes that flickers in and out of focus. I get the feeling he’s hiding something. Is that uncertainty in those rich auburn eyes? No, that can’t be right. Grant can’t possibly benervous, can he?

“This is for me?” My voice is weak, no more than a whisper.

“Well it certainly isn’t for me,” Jason replies, his fingers suddenly wrapping around the back of my neck. The move is possessive and comforting. “And Trip would drop dead before wearing green.”

The young man in question snorts. “Naw, green is fine. It’s just that the thing’s too heavy to sit on my finger. I wouldn’t be able to get any work done with it on.”

A nervous giggle slips past my lips.

“Well, then I guess that means it’s mine…” I look back down at the ring.

Grant pulls the ring out of the box and grabs my hand. There’s no hiding how it shakes. As he pulls me toward him, I jerk back, almost out of his grip, before stopping myself. He raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not going to bite, dollface.”

He jerks my hand toward him and slides on the ring. It’sheavy. Maybe Trip was on to something, how am I supposed to work with this on?

“Grant,” I shake my head once, my eyes glued to the beautiful ring. “It’sstunning,but that thing probably cost more than all my worldly possessions combined. I’m going to be paranoid all night that I’m going to lose it.”

Grant chuckles. “You’ll be fine.”

Will I be though? We all stare down at the ring that justso happens to fitperfectlyon my ring finger. My throat feels dry. I turn my hand left and right, in awe of how the gem catches the light.

“Oh, that’s right, we should probably put ours on, too,” Grant mutters, letting go of me to reach back into his inside pocket.

“Hold up, what?” Trip stiffens.

Grant chuckles as he pulls out yet another velvet box. This one is a little longer and deep red. He opens it, and inside are three rose gold bands, sleek and shining. Jason and Trip lean forward to check out the jewelry.

I’m the first one to react.

With a snicker, I ask, “What happened to ‘we don’t do labels’? First you have awifeand now we’re all a public polycule? Definitely feels label-y to me.”

“Shut up, dollface,” Trip mutters, his ears turning pink. Almost begrudgingly he reaches for the one Grant picks out and hands to him.

As Jason reaches for his and slides it on, he asks, “Dollie, you going to catch me as I swoon?”

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