Indefinite (Salvation #6)(63)

He leans in, giving me the sweetest kiss. “No, we never will know a life without each other because I will never let you go. Ever.”





31


Ashton





“I’m so tired,” I complain as Quinn kisses my forehead. All week, he’s been following around Jackson’s former in-laws. Last night, he didn’t get home until after eleven, and since becoming pregnant, I’m ninety years old and can’t stay up that late anymore.

“Go back to sleep, love.”

“I can’t now. I’m up,” I grumble as I reach for him. I’d much rather he stay in bed. “Come back here.”

“I have to work.”

“You mean stalk.”

Quinn sits on the bed beside me, pushing my hair back off my face. “You feel warm.”

“It’s because I’m hot for you,” I mutter with one eye open.

He smiles. “Are you feeling okay?”

I swat his hand away. “I’m fine. I’m tired and cranky since you suck and won’t stay in bed with me.”

I wanted a snuggle day. I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who would want to lie around with a guy because I love work. It gives me purpose and joy, but after taking a few weeks off, I realize this is the good life. Maybe I was built to be a trophy wife, who knew?

“I’m serious, are you getting sick?”

I lean up and glare at him. “No, I’m hot when I sleep. I feel fine.”

“Okay. Well, I would’ve stayed with you if you were sick.”

Asshole.

I fake cough. “Come to think of it . . . I am feeling a little congested.”

He gets to his feet with a laugh. “Nice try, babe. I’ll be back early. I just need to check on something.”

So he says now. “Whatever.”

I flop back onto the bed as he walks out the room. I hear the front door click and curl on my side, hoping to fall asleep.

I end up staring at the door to the bathroom, when I would much rather be looking at my hunky boyfriend, and get pissy. Not wanting to let my mood take over, I rise and start to clean my apartment. The one thing that Quinn does that makes me crazy is refuse to put anything in a hamper.

Why is this so hard?

You bend down, pick it up, and put it in the basket. The man can dismantle a gun with his eyes closed but can’t manage this. It’s maddening.

I grab his socks, which were tossed haphazardly on the floor. Then I grab his shirt, which apparently couldn’t make it there either. And finally, I snatch up his pants, which were under the shirt.

Seriously. I’m going to beat him.

I gather the laundry and head to the machine. There are some people who hate to clean, but I love it. It’s a perfunctory task that allows me to give order to an otherwise chaotic world. I sort the clothes and then start to fill the tub. I empty the pockets of each item and when my hand hits something hard, I groan.

“Quinn.”

I pull out the object and my heart drops. It’s a ring box. A black, velvety ring box. It might not be that kind of ring. He’s given me a ring actually. It sits on my right ring finger, reminding me that he loves me without end.

A good person would put the box back, not look, and go on with their life. I’ve never once claimed to be good.

What do I do?

I grab my phone and video chat Catherine.

“Hey.” She smiles as she comes on screen. Erin is resting on her chest, head nestled into the crook of her neck.

“Awww. She’s so cute.”

“She didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” I say with the love only a best friend has.

“Thanks.”

“So . . .” I go right into it. “I was doing the laundry, and I found something.”

Catherine’s eyes alight with interest. “Do tell . . .”

I lift the black box and show it to her. “Do you think . . .?”

“Open it!” she whisper-shouts.

See, this is why I call her for stuff like this. Gretchen would’ve scolded me and given me shit about ruining a surprise. She’s the friend that we would call after we buried the body. Catherine is who helps dig the hole.

I position the phone so she can watch and lift the lid.

Sure enough, it’s that kind of ring.

“Holy shit,” we both say in unison.

It’s beautiful. It’s insanely perfect and . . . it’s huge. There sits what has to be at least a two-and-a-half-carat, princess-cut solitaire. I pull it out, holding it up and inspecting it. “How much is Jackson paying him?” I ask.

“Wow, Ash. That’s gorgeous. He did good.”

Yeah he did. “I don’t know what to say now.”

“What do you mean?”

“How the hell do I talk to him knowing he has this sitting around for whenever?”

Catherine groans. “You cannot ruin this for him.”

“Of course I can’t, but I will! I’m impatient as fuck on a good day, but now? Knowing that this is here? I’m screwed!”

I didn’t think this through at all. I wanted to know if it was a ring, I didn’t fret over what the hell I would do if it was one. Shit.