The Best Man (Alpha Men 2)

Daff was going to miss him. She’d miss this, the intimacy they’d built between them. The comfortable ease of his quiet companionship. Even with him being so withdrawn recently, she still preferred his company over most others’.

The shower switched off, and she listened to the familiar sounds of him drying off and then brushing his teeth—he did this weird humming thing whenever he brushed. In anyone else it would have annoyed her, but she found it endearing in Spencer.

She pushed herself up when he finally emerged from the steamy bathroom and smiled at him.

“Morning,” she greeted, and his lips quirked.

“Hey. Go back to sleep, darling,” he said, his voice pitched low. “It’s barely six.”

She sank back down under the covers and watched him get dressed. Every movement he made was quick and efficient. When he was fully dressed, he ran his fingers through his damp hair, not bothering with a brush, and strode over to the bed. He sat down on the side closest to her and dropped a kiss on her lips.

“I have back-to-back meetings today, so my phone will be off,” he said.

“See you tonight?”

“Maybe. Depends on how late the meetings run. I’ll still have some paperwork to do after that.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll text you if I have the time.”

“Okay.” She wanted to insist he make the time to text her, but that wasn’t her place. She couldn’t make demands on his time, just as she didn’t expect him to make demands on hers. That wasn’t how this worked.

“Have a good day,” he urged, dropping another kiss on her mouth before exiting the room abruptly. She heard the front door open and shut moments later. It was unusual for him to not even have coffee before heading out, so he was definitely pushed for time today.

Daff contemplated her own day. She really had absolutely nothing planned. Three weeks of unemployment, and she was already bored out of her skull. Who knew she’d miss going to that damned boutique every day? Maybe she hadn’t hated it as much as she’d thought. She shook her head, disgusted with herself for being so damned wishy-washy, and got up.

She tugged on her pajama top and contemplated her bare feet on the cold hardwood floor for a moment before padding over to Spencer’s gorgeous oak bureau and yanking open drawers until she found his socks. She smiled fondly at the neat arrangement and dug around for an old pair of rugby socks. Her hands hit an unusual object and she tugged it out before thinking the better of it. She was about to shove it back when she recognized it as a small velvet jewelry box. She stared at it for a long, blank moment, stunned to realize that Spencer had been this serious about Tanya.

Maybe she was wrong; maybe it wasn’t an engagement ring. But what else would be in a box this size? Earrings? Possibly. She scrutinized the closed box for a long moment, torn between her conscience and the need to know. Had he lied about the depth of his feelings for Tanya?

Slowly, against her better judgment, everything in her screaming to just put it down, she cracked open the lid. She inhaled sharply at the first sight of the beautiful ring nestled in the small, dark-velvet interior of the box.

Warm rose gold, with a pear-shaped pink stone framed by tiny diamonds, it was absolutely stunning. She couldn’t imagine flashy Tanya ever liking a discreet, beautifully elegant ring like this. She lifted it from the box with trembling fingers and noticed etchings on the inside of the narrow band.

Don’t look, Daff! Just don’t! her conscience shrieked, but she was already going to burn in hell for this, so she might as well go all in. She held it up and peered closely at the small, elegant script engraved inside the band.

Daff, my only love. S

“No,” she whispered, her throat going dry. Her hands started shaking so much she dropped the ring. It landed on the floor and rolled a short distance before losing momentum and teetering to a stop.

“Oh Spencer. Why did you do this?” The words were barely audible, and she continued to gape at the ring in horror. Like it was a snake poised to strike at any moment.

“Daff?” Spencer’s low and uncertain voice came from behind her, and she whirled around to see him standing in the bedroom doorway, his travel coffee mug clasped in one hand.

She looked trapped. Her eyes wide in her ashen face, her breath coming in shallow gasps. One hand clasped around the empty ring box.

Fuck.

“I—I was looking for s-socks,” she stuttered, and he nodded, putting his mug on the bureau and striding toward her. She flinched slightly, and he tried not to take it personally. He reached for her hand and removed the box from her slack hold. His eyes scanned the floor until he saw the ring lying about a meter away.