Chapter 23
NATE
Iknocked on Kate’s door the next morning and immediately wondered just how the fuck we’d gotten here. A month ago, she’d been an enemy at a conference. Today, we were going to get her a ring.
Fucking life, man. Seriously.
Footsteps padded across the hardwood inside. Then the door cracked open just enough for her to peer out, her hair messily up, her makeup half-done, and one earring missing.
“I’m not ready yet,” she said, pushing the door open wider. “You can come in, but you’re going to have to wait.”
“I figured,” I said, stepping past her. “I came prepared for it.”
The faint scent of citrus and coffee that had probably already gone cold wafted through the air as I settled on her couch. She disappeared back down the hallway, the sound of drawers opening and closing echoing intermittently from her bedroom.
As I sat there, it felt weirdly domestic to be waiting for her, familiar in way I had no right to feel just yet.
This is a glimpse into my future though, waiting on my wife before we start the day together.
The thought probably should’ve unsettled me, made me itch with panic or want to grab my running shoes and take off. Instead, a slow smile spread across my lips because honestly I didn’t mind.
I liked the quiet, being here, and knowing she was just down the hall, muttering to herself while she got ready. My smile widened before I could catch it and I dropped my head back, scrubbing my palms over my face until I felt it fade.
But the truth was that I liked this. I liked it a little too much, but after spending most of my life looking forward to marriage, I should’ve known that the feeling would be welcome instead of terrifying. On the other hand, Kate and I would never really have this, would we?
As soon as she could, she was jetting back to New York. Her clothes would never be in my closet. She would never get ready in a bedroom we shared. That more than anything else was what finally knocked the elation out of my sails.
She finally reappeared twenty minutes later, tugging at a curl near her temple with visible irritation. “The humidity is killing my blowout. It’s like the city itself is attacking me.”
“Are you ready?” I asked, standing as she grabbed her purse and her keys.
“Yes. No. Let’s just go before it gets worse.”
I bit back a laugh and followed her out, guiding her toward the elevator. She kept tugging at her hair the entire elevator ride, examining strands like they were betraying her for not staying put.
We reached my SUV parked in its usual corner and I opened her door. She slid in before I closed it and circled around to the driver’s seat. In the current media storm, I was glad I didn’t have a flashy car that would stick out in traffic.
Instead, I drove a dark graphite hybrid with tinted windows, expensive but understated. There were dozens more like it in the city. No one would know we were in this one.
The drive through downtown Chicago was its usual morning mixture of steel, glass, and traffic. Kate angled the mirror toward herself, still wrestling with her hair. After another thirty seconds, she huffed dramatically and twisted it into a messy bun.
“What’s the deal with your hair?” I asked, glancing at her.
“It’s rebelling,” she said primly. “The humidity really isn’t working with me.”
I reached over before I could overanalyze the instinct, catching a loose curl that had escaped near her ear. It was softer than I’d expected. Springier, too. I smoothed it gently behind her ear, my fingers brushing her temple by not-a-complete accident.
“Is your hair naturally curly?” I asked.
She scoffed. “It’s not curly. It’s a mess. There isn’t a single pattern to it. Some parts wave, some parts spiral, some parts stick straight up like I stuck my finger in a socket. If I don’t tame it twice a week, I look like I lost a fight with a tumbleweed.”
Unexpected heat spread through me at the thought of her hair in its natural state. Preferably in the morning. After a night in my bed. “It sounds like you spend a lot of time fussing over it, but I’d actually love to see it curly.”
She blinked hard, but for once, she didn’t have a comeback. Color bloomed across her cheeks instead, turning them a rosy hue that made me think more about those things I’d admitted to Will I shouldn’t have been thinking.
Fuck. This woman is killing me and she doesn’t even know it.
Meanwhile, she turned toward the window, suddenly fascinated by passing traffic while my pulse kicked up. I focused on the road, but shit. Her hair might not have been working with her, but my entire body was actively working against me.
I’d say I have the bigger problem. The more obvious one, at least. It didn’t help at all that the citrus and warm vanilla scent of her was in every breath I took.
Twenty minutes of weird torture later, we pulled into the garage beneath another towering skyscraper. I parked and cut the engine, but neither of us moved immediately.
“Where are we?” she asked finally.
“You’ll see.”
Suspicion flickered across her face, but she didn’t argue, simply following me to the elevator and then riding it up with me to the sixtieth floor. When the doors opened, we stepped into a private reception area washed in warm lighting and polished marble.
Glass display cases lined the far wall, each one glittering with diamonds that probably cost more than most people’s homes. Kate immediately stopped walking. “Nate…”
“I scheduled a private meeting,” I said, keeping my voice even despite the nerves licking the insides of my veins like fiery tongues. “My family usually likes this jeweler’s work. This is special, though, so if you don’t like what they have, just let me know and we’ll go somewhere else.”
Her eyes widened slightly as understanding dawned. “The ring?”
I nodded just as a woman in a tailored charcoal suit approached with a welcoming smile, clearly expecting us. “Mr. Westwood. Ms. Vanderhaul. If you would please follow me, we can get started.”
“Thank you, Amanda,” I said, but Kate remained frozen beside me, her fingers tightening around the strap of her purse.
I gestured toward the seating area arranged beside a long, velvet display table. “After you, darling.”
She arched an eyebrow at me at the term of endearment but moved over to the couch. I followed her, hyper-aware of the weight settling across my shoulders and the strange, steady certainty forming beneath it.
If we were going to do this, we were going to do it right. I had a ring for her already, sitting on the velvet tray among a spread of pristine, glittering options the jeweler had laid out for us, but that was the only one that mattered to me.
The only one that had weight beyond carats and clarity. It’d belonged to my mother, a piece she used to wear all the time, and she’d left it to me in her will. I hadn’t known what I’d do with it back when I first inherited it. The idea of giving it to someone had always felt distant. Hypothetical.
Until Kate.
The diamond was stunning, set in warm gold and circled by delicate rubies that caught the light like embers. I didn’t plan on pointing it out to her. I’d only asked the jeweler to include it with the other options, just in case. Just to see how it looked beside newer designs.
Kate leaned forward over the display, her fingers hovering reverently over the selection and her eyes sparkling with open fascination. She moved past the modern halo settings and the elaborate vintage recreations without hesitation.
Her breathing hitched when her gaze snagged on my mother’s ring. “Oh. Nate, that one.”
A strange, off-kilter sensation sped through me as she reached for it, like the floor had just tilted slightly beneath my feet.
“That’s not—” I started but stopped myself before I gave anything away.
She turned it slowly between her fingers, the rubies flashing like tiny flames. “It’s gorgeous. God, I love rubies.”
The words landed like a second shockwave and I stared at her. Something tightened in my ribcage as she slipped the ring onto her finger purely to admire it. But it slid into place perfectly.
Like it was meant to be.
Amanda cleared her throat politely, but I barely heard her over the roar building in my ears. Kate held her hand up, twisting her wrist so the diamond scattered fractured light across the glass cases and ceiling.
“It fits,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Like it was meant to be mine.”
My pulse thudded heavily. I didn’t believe in fate, coincidence, or anything that couldn’t be backed by logic and planning. Yet as I watched that ring settle against her skin like it had been waiting for her all along, logic felt thin and fragile.
“This is the one I want,” she said finally, her smile so bright, it was almost giddy. “If that’s okay.”
I swallowed, nodding before I managed to gain some trust in my voice. “Yeah. It’s okay. That’s the one.”
On the drive back to the St. Regis, she couldn’t stop looking at it.
She kept angling her hand so the light caught the facets, mesmerized by the shifting reflections dancing across her palm.
I watched her from the corner of my eye with a warm, odd sensation building in my chest, and somewhere between the jewelry store and home, I realized I hadn’t thought about Emma once today.
Shit. I really am a bastard. I just didn’t really know what to do about it right now.
Back at our apartments, I was reaching for my keycard and thoroughly berating myself internally when Kate cleared her throat. “Nate, can we talk for a minute?”
When I turned to face her, I immediately recognized the careful tension in her posture and the way her shoulders had squared slightly. She was bracing for impact. I just didn’t know what kind.
“Sure, we can talk,” I said, stepping into her apartment when she motioned me in after she’d unlocked the door.
She lingered near the entryway instead of moving farther in, which told me this wasn’t casual conversation territory. I stood a few feet away, crossing my arms loosely over my chest. “What’s on your mind?”
She took a slow breath, her fingers brushing over the ring again. “I, uh, I know you want an actual wife. Something real that’s more than just an arrangement and a piece of paper.”
I wanted to ask her how she knew. We’d never talked about it and the fact she’d just assumed rubbed me the wrong way. The familiar bite of a scathing retort crept into me before I’d really looked at her. When her gaze lifted to meet mine, the vulnerability twinkling in her eyes caught me off guard.
Swallowing that combative instinct immediately, I just looked into her eyes and nodded instead. “I do want that, but it doesn’t mean I expect anything from you.”
“No, I, uh, I know, but I’m willing to give that a go. I just wanted you to know.”
The words damn near knocked the air from my lungs. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me after we got married.”
“I thought that too, but maybe we can at least try.” She inhaled a deep breath. “I was thinking we could start by letting ourselves like each other as friends?”
Friends.
The term lodged itself awkwardly deep inside, scraping against nerves and tender spots I hadn’t even known I had. Before I could think better of it, I took a step closer to her.
“Do you really want me to be your friend?” I asked, my voice rougher than it should’ve been. Lower too.
Kate didn’t answer immediately, those whiskey-hued eyes just searching mine for a long, extended moment. Unless I was very much mistaken, there was a flicker of heat fighting for dominance beneath the uncertainty and confusion.
The moment stretched just long enough to sting. Finally, I nodded, turning toward the door. “Right. I should—”
Her hand wrapped around my wrist before I could finish, the contact as electric as it was urgent. She tugged, pulling me to her with surprising strength. Then her mouth was on mine in another reckless, spur-of-the-moment kiss that burned away every rational thought I had left.