Page 8 of Pucking Obsessed

One of the rings was bought for me by each of my men in as much of a commitment and a promise as an engagement ring because we can’t marry.

I won’t choose one of them over the other.

I’ve been struggling to decide on what ring to buy for them. I’m determined to show them that they’re equals in this relationship as well.

At last, I know what I want to give them.

But since I’m normally a klutzy disaster zone, I want the moment that I give them the rings to be perfect because theirs to me were.

I’ve got this. It’s my mission.

I cast a sneaky glance at D’Angelo, who is pretending to be fascinated by his cuff links.

I take the chance to wriggle my hand beneath the pile of velvet cushions behind me, where I hid the rings earlier. I pinch my lips in concentration, squirming around.

Shit, where are they?

Panic shoots through me.

Has D’Angelo already found them?

Has my big moment been ruined?

Have I lost them?

This is worse than that time I misplaced my iPhone for an entire morning.

Fuck.

I shove my hand further behind myself, arching my back.

D’Angelo is still pretending that he can’t see that I’ve turned into a contortionist.

He plucks an orange rose out of the nearest vase and waves it casually side to side like he’s conducting an orchestra. He probably is. He loves classical musical by what Shay callsdead blokes like Mozart.

I grit my teeth, reaching to the very back of the couch.

Why did I think that this would be a good hiding place?

Men truly do suffer through torture to plan a good proposal. No wonder so many of them screw it up.

Hold up, is that the edge of a ring box…?

I grin in victory, at the same moment that I lose my balance.

I tip sideways off the couch. With a yelp, I tumble onto the floor. Startled, D’Angelo reaches for me but doesn’t catch me in time.

Blushing, I shove myself up onto one knee in front of D‘Angelo, clutching onto his hand.

The rose is held romantically between us.

I hear a gasp.

“Wait, areyouproposing toJude?” Shay’s hurt voice comes from behind me.

CHAPTER TWO

D’Angelo’s Beach House, Freedom

---