Page 172 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
We made our way down the stairs only to see Chaos standing there, chewing a flower slowly. He made eye contact with us.
“For fuck’s sake, Chaos,” Marc said, and it was impressive how much anger he packed into those four words.
The goat blinked at him and continued chewing with a totally bored look on his face. The flower stem disappeared incrementally like a strand of spaghetti being slowly sucked in, like he was making a point.
I pressed my lips together. This was not funny. This was genuinely not funny—the room was a disaster. But I was absolutely going to laugh about this later. I reached out, touching Marc’s arm, feeling the tension still coiled there. “I think we found our intruder.”
He didn’t relax. “Stay here. I’m searching the rest of the house.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Delaney.” There was that tone again—firm and protective with an edge to it that told me he wasn’t asking. And we sure as hell were not negotiating. My brain, deeply unhelpfully, took a moment to note that Marc, in full protector mode, was genuinely, unfairly attractive and sexy as hell.
“Okay,” I said, giving him a fake little pout that communicated exactly how temporary my compliance was going to be. “But if you get murdered, I’m going to be extremely upset with you.”
The front door was intact. I doubted the hallway would be the only point they’d destroy, and Chaos was smart. I couldn’t see him accepting a stranger with negative intentions so easily, but Marc needed to make sure I was safe. And I understood that.
Marc moved past me without even cracking a smile.
Once he was gone, I turned back to Chaos, stepping carefully over shards of broken ceramic to grab a pair of Marc’s sneakers in the corner—something between my bare feet and the debris situation seemed advisable. Every crunch made me wince.
“What did you do, sweet baby?” I asked, crouching down to his level. The evidence was overwhelming, but I asked anyway.
Chaos gently nudged my thigh, like we were sharing a private joke.
I scratched behind his ears, and he leaned into it, eyes going soft and heavy, with the boneless contentment of an animal who had not just committed significant property damage. “Were you jealous?” I murmured. “We didn’t say ‘hi’ when we got home so you decided to redecorate?”
He glanced up at me with a glare that felt very much like a confirmation.
About ten minutes later, Marc returned carrying paper towels, a broom, and a dustpan. Tension still bracketed the lines around his mouth. He took Chaos by the collar with a resigned sigh. “Back in your room.”
“Baaaaaaahh,” Chaos protested loudly. Marc ignored him.
I watched them go, and a smile tugged at my lips despite everything. This was ridiculous. It was truly chaotic—broken ceramic, scattered change, and flowers everywhere, and now a goat being marched to his bedroom at two o’clock in the morning—and yet somehow it felt more like home than anywhere I’d been in a long time. The thought settled deep within me.
Everything about this felt right.
When Marc returned, muttering under his breath about animals that belonged in barns, we began the careful work of cleaning up. I was picking up scattered coins when something caught the light near the baseboard—a flash of green, deep and rich—by the overhead light like it was trying to get my attention.
I picked it up.
My stomach dropped so fast I had to put a hand on the wall.
It was a ring. Not just any ring. A substantial, breathtaking, completely serious ring, emerald at its center, set in platinum with the most delicate leaf-accented detail I’d ever seen, tiny diamonds and emeralds resting on branches like somethingfrom a forest. It was the kind of ring that meant something. The kind of ring that came with a velvet box and a significant conversation.
We had just said “I love you” tonight.
My pulse rocketed from zero to a thousand in under a second.Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.Was Marc—was he planning to —was this?—I loved him, I did, I knew that with a certainty that surprised me with its steadiness, but marriage was a huge conversation. Marriage was a next step that required … my brain was doing that thing where it ran seventeen scenarios simultaneously, and I hadn’t finished processing the first one yet.
“Delaney?” Marc’s voice cut through my spiral. “What’s wrong?”
I looked up, holding the ring out like evidence at a trial I hadn’t prepared for. “Is this yours?”
His eyes went wide. Then his brows drew together. His gaze dropped to the floor and traveled until it landed on a small black jewelry box lying open near the wall, and his expression shifted. “Shit,” he said, moving quickly to pick it up. A small folded note fluttered to the floor. He grabbed it. Read it. Let out a breath that seemed to come from the bottom of his lungs. “The ring is Glamma’s.”
The relief that moved through me was so complete I almost sat on the floor. “Then why do you have it?”
He handed me the note.
