“It’s my great grandma’s ring. My grandma sent it to me before I left. I figured it would add to the reality if you had an actual ring.”
She opened the box and gasped.
“I know it’s not much, but—”
“It’s perfect.”
“You like it?” I asked, unable to hold the smile back.
“I love it.”
She removed the simple gold band, but I grabbed the ring before she could put it on, wanting to slide it on her finger myself. Something inside me urged me to have this moment, even if it wasn’t real. I held her hand softly and placed my ring all the way to her knuckle, loving the way the small pink stone shined against her tan skin.
“Let me grab mine. I kept the one from Vegas.”
“Actually,” she said, stopping me from walking away. “I got you one.”
“Really?” There went my skipping heartbeat again.
“Yeah. You know, same thing you said. Add to the reality,” she explained, a little less believable this time. Like maybe that was what she wanted it to mean, but maybe it meant more.
She came back with her own box but opened it for me, not waiting for my reaction before grabbing my rough palm in hers and sliding it on. The black band shined differently at each angle under the fading sun.
“I got it because it looked like layers of paint bleeding together. It reminded me of the artist in you.”
While she studied the ring, I studied her, trying to hold on to the piece of me she was tugging away. I could have sworn she had all of me before, but it was nothing compared to the chunk she just claimed as hers.
“Thank you,” I barely choked out.
She looked at me from under her lashes and something shined in their depths, warmer than ever before, and I wanted to snatch it, but it was gone before I could even get close. “It’s no big deal.”
It was a lie.
A lie so obvious it shook the ground we stood on, forming a new rift. But instead of the fissure that almost broke us in Vegas, it shifted, locking something stronger in place.
We both knew it.
But neither of us knew what it meant.
Chapter Ten
Raelynn
As promised, Austin rested his hand on my back, guiding me into the living room, where everyone mingled before dinner. He’d placed his hand there before, and I’d always noticed it through the years, but when I imagined what it would feel like tonight while getting ready, I assumed it would feel different. I assumed it would weigh on me like a chain trapping me in place.
Instead, his fingers laid like a weighted blanket, noticeable but offering comfort—the same as always. Except this time, they caressed lower, just above my ass, sending warmth up my spine and down to my core. The soft touch had never felt so erotic.
Between that and the weight of his family’s ring on my finger, there was no denying that Austin and I were husband and wife. And I couldn’t tell if that thought filled me with anxiety because it terrified me or because it didn’t.
Thankfully, the party was in full swing when we arrived, distracting me from my inner turmoil. However, each time I lifted my glass for a sip of champagne, the ring glinted under the light, reminding me that I didn’t hate the way it felt.
“Raelynn, you look gorgeous.” My mom pulled me in for a hug and more praise.
“You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Jeremy praised. “You’re lucky men.”
“I’m very lucky to have Rae,” Austin agreed. “She’s one of a kind.”
The other men in the circle introduced themselves, shaking hands with Austin and giving us their congratulations. Some I had met before, while others were new.
“I was just explaining to everyone about the Virago Foundation and how you’ve been helping out,” Dad explained.
“Yes, Mom and Dad started the charity a few years ago, and I’m excited to help where I can. Domestic abuse is a serious issue I’m passionate about. Helping women become strong and find their footing after everything they’ve endured is something my parents taught me. Dad is an incredible advocate for women.” I wanted to take every opportunity to push my dad’s campaign while we were here. I didn’t want a single person leaving without knowing how valuable he could be in the Senate and that he was the right candidate to back in the campaigns.
Not that it mattered because no one heard me anyway. These men were older and came from traditional families that stuck with outdated societal norms.
“Are you helping by featuring them on your social media?” one of them joked.
“Nonsense,” another cut in, laughing. “She’ll be giving them makeovers and taking them to clubs.”
My jaw clenched tight, the strain reaching around my neck. The tension twisted the muscles in my shoulders, creeping down my spine until it collided with the strong fingers tensing as much as me, gripping my hip as if it was his last shred of patience.