Chapter 13
My lower back hurts.
It's the first thought filtering through my sleep-addled brain. I grit my teeth, wondering if it has anything to do with the large palm splayed low on my back, fingers curving possessively over my ass.
I'm sprawled half on top of Jordan, my face buried in his chest, my thighs cradling one of his—my favorite position to sleep in.
I'm comfy. Very comfy.
So why does it hurt? What else happened last night?
Last night comes back in flashes. Me sneaking out through my window. The Uber ride to his Anthem Country Club house. Walking through his door only to have Jordan pull me into his arms.
The way he'd fished my phone out of my back pocket, amid kisses, and handed it to me.
"Text your parents," he'd said. "Tell them you're with me."
"What? Jordan—"
"Now. Text them."
So I had.
Only when my Mom acknowledged the message did Jordan let me have him.
The pain hits again, and suddenly, it's... familiar.
The bone-deep throbbing. The way it feels like someone's slowly tightening a vice in my lower back.
Oh no.
I reach for my phone and load up my tracker. It's been twenty-nine days since my last period. Which means today is day one.
Crap.
My period is coming. And from the intensity of the cramps, it may already be here.
I need the bathroom. Now.
I try to shift out from under Jordan's arm, slowly, not wanting to wake him, but he only pulls me back against him.
"Where're you going?" he murmurs.
"Bathroom," I whisper.
"Mm. Too early."
"Jordan—"
"Stay put for five more minutes." He presses a kiss to my temple, then his hand moves to gently knead my ass. "You feel so good."
Any other time, I'd melt into his bold touch, but right now, I'm acutely aware that at this very moment, there could be a flood—
"I really need to go," I insist, squirming.
He makes a disgruntled sound but loosens his hold. "You okay, though?"
"Yeah, just—bathroom." I slip out of bed quickly. A quick glance back confirms no mortifying stains—thank God—and then I'm padding naked toward his ensuite.
I close the door and lean against it, taking stock.
Okay. There's no bleeding yet. But I'll need some Advil before I turn into a total ogre. And tampons—though tissue paper might have to do until I get home.
I open the medicine cabinet above the sink, scanning the shelves.
There's no Advil, but there's a bottle of Toradol at the back. Even better. I reach for it, checking it's still in date, then pop two pills, chasing them down with tap water.
I return the pill bottle to the shelf, accidentally knocking over a can of aftershave. I move other bottles out of the way to create more space, replace the aftershave, then—I see something that makes me freeze.
Right behind the antiseptic, partially hidden behind a box of Band-Aids, is a small navy velvet box.
Is that...?
I reach for it. Pull back. Reach again. Pull back.
This is none of your business, Sabrina.
I grab it anyway.
The small box is heavier than I expected.
You shouldn't open it.
I open it anyway.
The ring inside steals my breath.
It's a large round diamond set in platinum. The band catches the light, and I tilt it, seeing the engraving running along the inside.
A small slice of heaven.
The world stops.
That phrase.
I said it months ago. At Pizza Fiesta. The first day I agreed to sit with him. He'd told me how his job sucked and I said something about finding a slice of heaven.
He not only remembered. He remembered and had it engraved on a ring.
I know for a fact the ring belongs to me.
How long has he been planning to propose? How long has he been thinking about marrying me?
My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop the box. The strength of his commitment, the certainty in it, the fact that he's been carrying this ring, waiting for the right moment—
It terrifies me.
It overwhelms me.
It makes my heart feel like it's going to explode out of my chest.
I hear movement in the bedroom. Footsteps approaching.
"Baby?" Jordan's voice, still rough with sleep. "You've been in there a while. You okay? Mind if I come in?"
I can't answer, instead, I'm rooted to the floor, staring at the blatant proof the man has been planning a future with me.
The bathroom door opens slowly. Jordan peeks before fully stepping in, stark naked, hair sticking up, face creased with sleep. His eyes scan me, fall to what I'm holding—
And every drop of color drains from his face.
"I was, um, rummaging for some Advil," I whisper. "Instead I found Toradol and... this."
He says nothing, just stares at the box like I'm holding his heart in my hands.
Which, I realize, I just might be.
"Jordan." My voice cracks. "How long have you had this?"
His throat works. Seconds pass. Too many seconds. Finally he admits "Four, maybe five months."
The floor tilts beneath my feet. "Five months? You've been keeping it, planning—for when exactly?"
"I didn't—don't have a timeline per se. I just—" He looks at me, and his eyes are raw. "I knew. I knew I wanted to marry you."
My mind reels. "Jordan. We've only been together for four months. You say you bought this five months ago. That means—"
"I had it before we started going out." His jaw tightens. "Yes, I know how it sounds."
My eyes pop. "You bought an engagement ring before we started dating?"
"I fell in love with you a long time ago, Sabrina," he says simply.
He starts walking toward me slowly, like I'm a spooked animal who might bolt.
And maybe I am. Because this is crazy. This is the kind of crazy that should send me running. A man who wouldn't touch me for the first two months of our relationship because I was underage, yet he'd already purchased a ring?
That's…intense. Borderline obsessive. A red flag, for sure. Except, it's Jordan. My Jordan.
He steps behind me then turns my body to face the mirror.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Something I've been dying to do. To see." He pries the box from my trembling hands. "May I?"
I'm too stunned to do anything but nod and watch our reflection—naked and trembling, both caught in this moment that feels too big for my body to contain.
He gathers my long, straight hair off one shoulder, draping it over the other. Then he leans down and presses a single kiss to my bare shoulder.
My heart slams against my ribs when he takes the ring out of the box and holds out his hand for my left hand. Without thinking, I give it to him.
The ring slides onto my finger like it was made for it.
I gasp. "It's so beautiful, Jordan."
He grunts in agreement, then poses my hand on my lower belly. Right where, someday, there might be another life growing.
In the mirror, I watch him tracking my body with dark, hungry eyes. Over my full, achy breasts achy, my flat belly still quivering with shock, and the diamond twinkling on my left hand.
"Is what you've been dying to see?" I whisper. "Me wearing nothing except your ring?"
His eyes meet mine in the reflection, then slowly nods. "I had a whole speech planned. Something eloquent and poetic about forever and choosing you every day for the rest of my life."
My throat closes. "Jordan—"
"But now, seeing my ring on you—" His voice roughens. "I have no words. All I can think is how much I need this to be real. How much I need you to be mine."
He drops his chin to my shoulder and I feel his entire body shaking. "Marry me, Sabrina Wells. Not someday when all of this begins to make sense. Marry me now. Or at least soon. Please."
My heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe.
Say something, his eyes beg.
I should tell him that we're moving too fast. That I need time to think. That his father would never agree.
But looking at our reflection—at the ring on my finger, at the way he's looking at me like I'm his entire world—I know the truth.
In five weeks, I'll move in with him. But I don't want to play house. I don't want to be his live-in girlfriend.
I want to go to Houston and everywhere else I've promised to follow him with some guarantee, even if only we know it. I want our promises backed up by something legal, something unbreakable before we step into his world where everything will try to tell us we don't make sense.
Right now, here in our little bubble, we make perfect sense. But if we wait, if we let reality and his father and all the logical reasons intrude—we'll lose this. We'll lose us.
"After graduation," I hear myself say.
His eyes widen in the mirror. "What?"
I turn in his arms to face him. "I'll marry you after graduation."
He searches my face. "Bree, graduation is in five weeks."
"I know," I whisper.
For one suspended moment, he just stares at me. Then he crushes me to him, lifting me onto the counter, his mouth already plundering mine. I sink my fingers into his hair, kissing him back with everything I have.
He pulls back suddenly, breathless, searching my face again. "Are you sure? Are you sure you're not doing this because you're scared?"
"Scared of what?" I challenge, although I know he's partly right.
"Of losing me." His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "I don't want you marrying me out of fear, Sabrina. I need you to want this as much as I do."
I stare at the diamond twinkling on my finger, feeling a fierce sense of rightness. "I do want this. But yes, Jordan, I'm scared too. Your father is very powerful. What if he disinherits you?"
"He can't."
"But what if he does?"
"My inheritance, the company, the trust fund…everything has been in place since before my father was born. He can't take it away."
"So he can't stop us?"
Jordan shakes his head. "Not really. But he can make things very difficult, and he will. Threats, blackmail, and the bells and whistles of playing dirty." Jordan leans his forehead against mine. "The stakes will rise, no doubt. But as long as we always trust and choose each other, we'll be fine."
I nod, a dizzying relief flooding through me. "So we're really doing this?"
"Fuck yeah." His smile turns devastating. "Speaking of, I've always wanted to take you to Vegas."