Page 56 of Claiming Pretty

I blinked, thrown. “You stole someone’s ring?”

His laugh was quiet, almost indulgent. “I bought it.”

“When?” I demanded, incredulous. “When exactly did you have time to go ring shopping since last night when we made our plans?”

He took my hands in his, his fingers warm and steady against my trembling ones.

“Ava,” he began softly, his voice thick with something unspoken. “I bought it years ago.”

The air seemed to still around us, and my heart tripped over itself. “What?”

Ty’s thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over the back of my hand.

“For you,” he said, his words weighted with emotion. “I bought it for you.”

My knees threatened to give out, but his grip kept me tethered.

“For me?” I whispered, the question barely audible.

He nodded, his jaw tightening like he was trying to hold himself together.

“Before I went to jail,” he admitted, shrugging like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was everything.

My heart swelled, caught somewhere between aching and breaking. The memories hit me like a tidal wave—of him chasing me through rose gardens at Blackthorn Hall, of laughter and stolen glances.

All that time, he’d been carrying this secret. Carrying this ring.

He’d never seen me as just a friend.

I’d always beenhis.

The overwhelming wave of emotion swept me forward before I could think. Rising on my tiptoes, my lips searched for his. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop to consider the consequences.

But before our lips could meet, before I could fall into oblivion, before I could choose between damnation and redemption, the door opened beside us.

I rocked back onto my kitten heels and Ty cleared his throat.

A woman in a well-fitted pencil skirt tapped a pack of cigarettes into her palm before noticing us. “Oh. Excuse me.”

She checked her wristwatch.

She had clearly been hoping to slip in a smoke break that we ruined.

She gave us a smile and held open the door for us.

“You must be Mr. Donahue,” she said to Ty.

He inclined his head in assent and then gestured to me.

“May I introduce Mrs. Donahue,” he said, interlocking his hand into the one on which I wore his ring. “Mywife.”

I should have hated the way my heart trilled.

My wife.

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