Page 8 of First in Line
“And you want to marry him?”
Her gaze shifts to the windows beside us when she says, “Yes.”
“Are you engaged?”
She nods once.
“Why don’t you have a ring?”
“I do. It’s in my bag.”
“Show me.”
She only hesitates for a couple of seconds before shuffling in her bag to take out a small velvet box. From it, she retrieves her engagement ring and brings it forward over the table between us. I lean in to look at it, unimpressed by the size of the diamond sitting on a boring band of gold.
“I take it he makes minimum wage,” I say as I retreat back into the armchair.
“He makes enough,” she defends herself before sliding it on her finger—the one where I once slipped a ring that looked even cheaper than this one.
“Why weren’t you wearing it earlier?”
“I didn’t want to wear it in case…”
“In case what?”
She meets my gaze again, a little more determined than before. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
A cynical laugh rips out of me. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”
“I was hurting, too, Jax. I was hurting, I didn’t know what to do about it, and I needed time to figure it out.”
“And you’ve had it. You’ve had…” I look at my watch, pretending to do the math, “… seven years and three months of it.” I don’t even try to hold back the resentment in my tone.
She easily catches it and replies with an almost snarky, “Don’t act like you tried that hard to win me back. If it was that much of a heartbreak, you would have come for me.”
Her answer angers me to an unreasonable amount. Is she genuinely putting the blame on me?
“You changed your phone number, Evangeline. I went back to Colorado. I fucking looked for you, but no one knew where you were, or no one wanted to tell me, at least. I genuinely fucking tried, but you made it impossible.”
She has nothing to answer to that, apparently, so instead, she stands from her seat. “Sign the papers, Jackson, so we can put the past behind us.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll take you to court. And if you really like to keep your personal life private, trust me, you don’t want that.”
Touché …
I glare at the envelope again, frowning at it. “I’ll read it,” I decide. “But can you tell me what’s in there? How much do you want from me?”
Oh, she doesn’t like the insinuation. Not one bit. Her eyes are practically throwing daggers when she answers, “Nothing.”
“Hm… We never signed a prenup. You could ask for half of everything I have, and trust me, it’s a lot more than we ever dreamed of.”
“I’m not after your money, Jax. I’ve never been after that, and you know it.”
“And yet, money was a big point of contention, wasn’t it?”
“It’s not a problem for me anymore. Crazy how that happens when one doesn’t have to sink every cent into someone’s racing career…”
