Page 121 of The Ring
“I’m guessing you don’t need to use the toilets.” He points at them.
“Not really.” I shake my head. “I want to apologise. I’m sorry about dropping the news like that. Well… technically it wasn’t me, but still, I should have given you a heads-up.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He shrugs. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine if you’re mad about it,” I counter.
“I’m not mad,” Nate insists, but the tightness in his jaw and the way he avoids my eyes say otherwise.
I point at his face. “You should tell that to your face, because itlooksmad.”
He lets out a small laugh, followed by a sigh. “I am mad, but it’s notmainlybecause you two are back together. I saw it coming.”
“But youaremad about it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I made a mistake by getting back with him?” I ask softly, afraid of his answer.
“That’s for you to decide.” He’s not really answering my question, but his tone of voice is—his answer is yes.
Maybe I did. But TJ is my worst habit. He’s like the bottle you need a twelve-step programme to get over, and even if such a programme existed, I’m not sure I’d want to go through it.
Since I can’t make him feel better about me and TJ, I ask, “If us being back together isn’t the main reason you are mad, then what is it?” Maybe I can fix that for him.
“If I tell you, thenyouwill be mad,” he says carefully.
“I won’t. I promise.” I don’t know what I’m promising not to be mad about, but it can’t be that bad.
Nate doesn’t look convinced, but says, “I may have placed a wager on you getting back together with TJ, and the fact that you two are back together now means I lost.”
“You bet on us?” I ask a little louder than I intended, feeling a lot less guilty about him being mad about TJ and me.
“It wasn’t like that,” he quickly defends. “It’s not that I bet you would never get back together. The wager was about when. I thought it would take you two a little longer. Are you mad?”
I take a few seconds to respond. “No, I said that I wouldn’t be, so I’m not.” It’s not a lie—I’m not technically mad, just irritated and annoyed. But not much, since this wouldn’t be the first time someone has bet on my romantic life. Remembering that, I ask, “With whom did you wager against?”
“It was part of the bet not to tell anyone about it. I’m already saying too much,” Nate explains.
“Fine.” I don’t push further, even though I want to. I guess asking what he lost in the wager is also out of the question.
Either way, it must have been Lucian. He and Nate do love their wager. Lucian wasn’t smug like he tends to be when he wins a wager, but if he had been, someone would have noticed. And TJ wouldn’t have taken kindly that they were wagering on us.
TJ is gently caressing my hand as I rest against his chest, relaxing to the sound of his steady breathing. Today was a good day. I don’t know why I worried so much about the brunch. Itwent really well. In a way, I think I knew that deep down, to some degree—even though I doubt any of them would admit it—they all wished I could forgive TJ, so that we could stop being a fractured friend group.
Afterwards, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around Mayfair. We ended the evening with dinner at Sexy Fish before heading back to TJ’s flat.
He fidgets with my rings. I don’t have many on my right hand—just three. Two Jessica McCormack Spaghetti Rings, one plain and the other set with carré-cut diamonds and blackened gold, both stacked on my middle finger. On my ring finger, the Button Back Ring from Jessica McCormack, the one I always wear.
He turns the first two slowly, then moves to the ring on my ring finger and pauses.
“Why do you always wear this one?” he asks quietly.
I had foreseen this question being asked by either Benedict or TJ since the night ofthe dinner with the devil,but even with that knowledge, I’m not prepared to answer it.
“Benedict really got to you,” I say, deflecting. “You shouldn’t let him.” I hate that it feels like I’m gaslighting him—but I really don’t want to open that can of worms right now.
He shifts so he can look at me properly, which forces me to lift off his chest. I end up half sitting, half lying beside him on the bed. “You’re deflecting,” he says. He knows me too well.
