Page 160 of The Pact
“No,” she lies, her gaze lingering a second too long. Then she turns toward the bathroom. “Don’t try to bribe or guilt me into this, Saint. We’re already married. We know why we’re here. Regardless of the initial circumstances of our marriage, it’s always been real, and we love each other.”
As the sound of the faucet running fills the room, I move fast.
I walk over to my dresser and open the top drawer, reaching far into the back corner. My fingers brush the velvet of the small box, and I pull it out, feeling that familiar thump in my chest. Inside is a simple band, much like the gold one she wears now, but this one is set with thirty small, brilliant-cut diamonds.
I sit on the edge of the bed and wait.
She comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wiping the last of the cleanser from her face with a towel. She doesn’t see the box at first.
“And another thing,” she starts, her voice firm. “We said we would never go to bed angry, but I gotta say, if you bring up that party one more time … ”
She finally stops, her eyes dropping to my hands, looking at the open box I’m holding.
“What?” she whispers, her voice breathy. “Saint, what is that?”
I stand up, feeling a little smug, as I watch the shock wash over her. I walk across the rug, reach down, and hook my arm under her knees, lifting her effortlessly against my chest. She lets out a small gasp, her hands instinctively clutching my shoulders as I carry her back to the bed and set her down on the edge.
I drop to one knee in front of her.
“I know we’re already married,” I say, looking into her eyes, “and I’m so damn proud to call you my wife every single day. But you deserve everything beautiful in this life, Presley. I don’t want our marriage to be defined by a contract or a pact, although I vote to keep the pact terms in place, I want a promise.”
I hold up the ring, the diamonds catching in the light.
“I’m asking if you’ll marry me again, with our family and our friends surrounding us. And I’m asking you to formally take my name, Presley. I want the world to know you’re mine in every way possible; on paper, in this house, on the field, and in your heart.”
Tears start to spill over her lashes, falling down her cheeks. She looks at the ring, then back at me, and then she … slowly shakes her head.
“We can’t do that,” she sniffs.
“What?” I huff a laugh. “Why not? If it’s the party, I was just egging you on a bit.”
“No,” she laughs through her tears, reaching out to cup my face. “It’s not the party. It’s the dress. In a few months, I won’t be able to fit into a wedding dress.”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant,” she whispers against my lips. “I was going to surprise you. I had this whole thing planned out for tomorrow morning when you got back from your run, but you stole my thunder!”
I let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-sob, and pull her into me, burying my face in her stomach. I feel her hands in my hair, her body shaking with her own laughter and tears, as the tension from the last ten minutes evaporates.
“I wasn’t gonna let us go to bed mad,” I mutter against her, making her laugh harder.
“Okay, if I say yes to the party,” she says, pulling back to wipe her eyes. “I don’t want anything fussy or fancy. But I will agree to a nice, quiet dinner. Here or at my parents’ house. Just us and the kids. I’ll tell my mom she can do that, but that’s the limit.” She looks down at the box still in my hand. “Now, can I have my ring?”
I laugh, reaching for her left hand to take off the original gold band, but she pulls her hand back. “No, I want to wear them both. They belong together.”
I nod, smiling, and slide the diamond-encrusted band onto her finger with the original.
“There are thirty diamonds,” I tell her, my voice deep with emotion. “For the pact. And look inside.”
She holds it up to the light, squinting at the tiny engraving on the inner curve of the band. Her breath hitches as she reads the words.
Still here. Always.
Presley doesn’t say anything for a long time. She just leans forward and presses her forehead against mine. “I love it. I loveyou.”
I’ll never get tired of hearing her say that.
“And I love you.”
Everything we’ve been through, and everything we have to look forward to, like the new life she’s carrying, is all right here.
I kiss her then, a slow, lingering promise that tastes of our future.
