It’s not mine, I swear.
“I’m sorry,” my husband apologizes for the umpteenth time, dropping a kiss to the curve of my mouth. It’d almost been a mishap. Almost. Had Ethan not swooped in with rings that I’m pretty sure were new; rings I didn’t choose. As if he somehow knew Sinclair was going to lose them, like he did during his wedding with Eliana. I currently have a fucking plan B on my ring finger and the more I look at the more I want to smack him.
I purse my lips, refusing to speak to him. I’m not particularly mad, but how does a man forget his own damned wedding rings?
Okay, maybe I’m a little irked, and plenty disappointed.
Grasping his cool hands tightly, I let him spin me across the floors in an elaborate sweep than earns cheers and I blush, smiling at a clapping Ray. “I’ll murder you later,” I tell Sinclair and Dane chokes on his wine somewhere in the gathering.
“I look forward to what method you’ll chose. Your hands are much too small to strangle me. You love me too much to p
