Stealing Her (Covet 1)

“What about my eyes?”

“They’re pretty, but they look sad more often than they should, and I don’t like it. I fucking hate it, Izzy.”

“Maybe next time you cheat, you’ll remember my eyes then.” Anger boiled inside me. How dare he tease me and compliment me when I knew—I knew—it wouldn’t last. It was the cruelest thing he could do, and yet I didn’t want him to stop.

“Won’t be a next time.” His jaw clenched.

“Don’t make promises—”

“Hey . . .” He pulled me into his arms. I felt so safe, so secure. I always thought Julian had the best arms, but now? Now they felt bigger, they felt protective. I wanted desperately to lay my head against his chest while he told me everything was going to be okay, that we would have a future that wasn’t overshadowed by his greedy father and his need to control everything down to the clothes I wore and the colors in my closet. “I swear to you that the man standing here, in front of you, will never cheat on you. Ever.”

I looked up into his eyes, for the first time noticing that his lashes looked slightly longer. My body screamed it was right, my mind told me that I was hallucinating, because people’s eyelashes didn’t just change, did they?

I sighed and stepped out of his arms. “Cheat on me one more time, Julian, and we’re done.”

I felt weak saying that.

I’d said it numerous times to him in the past, and he always apologized profusely and we’d be happy for a while only to go through the same cycle when he’d inevitably cheat again. I stayed because he always seemed so sorry and things would be so good that I’d convince myself he would never do it again. I wanted to believe the best of him, of us, but eventually I realized that I was so tied up in Julian Tennyson and his world and my place in it that I’d lost what made me me. I lost my identity and swapped it out for the one he gave me.

I expected him to say Done! like he always did.

Instead, he grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it. “Only a fool would cheat on you.”

“So you’re a fool now?”

“Jackass, idiot, fool, all of the above.” His smile was lazy as his eyes narrowed. “You know, my memory’s still a bit cloudy . . . tell me one thing from college that you miss.”

I smiled sadly. “Holding your hand.”

“Done.” He picked up my hand again and squeezed it. “But I’m feeling greedy, what else?”

Oh God, he was staring at me like he used to. I didn’t know how to define that look, how to categorize it, how to defend against it, so I let him in and prayed it wouldn’t kill me.

“Junk food,” I said in a serious voice. “I miss ice cream. No, I don’t just miss ice cream, I miss chocolate, I miss SpaghettiOs, and all the junk food we used to keep in the apartment before your trust fund.”

“SpaghettiOs.” He nodded. “With or without meatballs?”

“Julian, don’t insult me, there’s only one way, and that’s with meat!”

He burst out laughing and pulled me against him. “I could get on board with that.”

“Really?” My eyebrows rose to my hairline. “The last time you caught me eating junk food, in the closet, mind you, you warned me that I was going to get fat.”

He pulled away from me, grabbed a knife, and handed it over. “You should probably stab me for that, just make sure you don’t hit anything vital. You were supposed to be a nurse, so . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ll wait.”

I gave him a silly look. “I’m not going to stab you. It was a year ago, and it was only peanut butter M&Ms.”

He let out a gasp. “The king of M&M’s. That’s a crime; I think I owe you a five-pound bag.”

“And if I gain five pounds?” I countered, knowing what he would say.

“Then . . .” He lowered his eyes and checked out my backside. “I’ll pray it’s in your ass.”

I gently shoved him. “You always said you were a boob guy.”

“Nah.” He checked me out again, my own fiancé, and I liked it; no, I loved it. “I think you just converted me . . .”

“Eyes up here,” I teased.

“I can’t help it . . .” he whispered. “You’re breathtaking.”

And for the first time in three years.

I believed him.

Chapter Eleven

BRIDGE

Two weeks later

I was going stir-crazy. My dad was texting on a daily basis. The board was getting antsy and since news of my miraculous recovery was all anyone talked about or printed in the paper, he wanted me to come into the office and make an appearance.

My first of many.

The board would know it was Bridge walking through those doors.