Sins of Mine - Mary E. Twomey Page 0,70
walk-in that truly could be a bedroom on its own. “These ones?”
“How’d you guess? You’re getting better at picking out my shoes.”
Gray chuckles and brings them over, getting down on one knee to slide them on my feet. “You’ve been talking about the little charcoal bow on the ankle all week. I pay attention.”
My nails run through his hair while he fastens the strap, his large fingers making an effort to be gentle with me. His lips press to my knee, and I’m fairly certain I love him even more than I did yesterday, which I didn’t think possible.
“You ready for your big speech?” I ask him.
Gray’s face falls. “I don’t know why you both insist I should say anything. We’ve been doing fine with the two of you doing all the talking and me sticking to the background. Just me standing near you is a big enough controversy to get people all riled up.”
I squat down so I can look him in the eye. “You have good ideas, and you’re a great man. You’ve stood silent long enough. Now you need a voice.”
A flash of fear crosses Gray’s features. “They’re not going to like it.”
Paxton migrates to our sides. “But they need it. They need to hear your perspective. It was one-third your idea to turn Prigham’s into a community center. The shifters all look to you. They need to see you’ve been given a voice and real power to help them. They need hope.”
“Hope?” The word sounds strangely powerful on my tongue.
Then Paxton takes my elbow and helps me to stand tall in my stilettos. His lips tickle the shell of my ear as he whispers. “You’re supposed to stand for this part, Arlanna. I’m to kneel.”
I’m not processing Paxton’s words as he drops down to one knee beside Gray, who, even though my shoes are properly affixed, is still kneeling.
Sloan stands and kisses my cheek, then moves toward the exit. He pauses, holding my gaze with a steadiness that tells me he’s always had hope for my future, even when I abandoned the notion. “Best not wait for society to hand you what you want. Take it, Arly. Take the future you deserve.”
What are they doing? How does Sloan know what the look of devotion in their eyes means before I do?
The crushing blow that had been the council’s vote to veto shifter marriages left the three of us in tatters. Me throwing myself into the community center details was a convenient diversion from the frustration that threatened to turn me into an angry person.
But looking down at the beautiful men on their knees, I realize I’ve missed the point of the whole thing. It’s not about whether or not Gray is allowed to be married; it’s that he wants to marry me, and attach himself to Paxton in the process.
Paxton takes my right hand, and Gray holds my left. My king blinks up at me with too much devotion, too much foresight into a future I sometimes have a hard time picturing. “Arlanna, I’ve always been yours. When the time is right, will you marry me?”
Words are gone from my brain. I can’t think of a response, because it comes with too many addendums.
Of course I want to marry Paxton, but not without Gray. But naturally, Paxton thought through his request, phrasing it in such a way that I know he would never ask that of me.
Gray’s thumb sweeps over my knuckles, warming my hand because that’s just who he is. “Arly, you’ll always be mine. When the time is right, will you marry me?”
Moisture clouds my vision, but finally I can see a glimpse into the future I’ve been told will never exist.
And there we are, the three of us going about our daily life—loving the people before we make it a point to rule over them.
My husbands and their queen.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I love you both.”
I don’t expect a ring. I’m happy just to have a quiet commitment that has no bearing on what we’re allowed to do. But when the band presents itself, I can’t keep the tears at bay a moment longer.
The ring stands out like a beacon of beauty and scandal. It’s a rose gold band, showcasing the prettiest princess-cut jewel I’ve ever seen.
“It’s morganite,” Paxton explains, though I don’t need the rundown. I know my gemstones.
Gray is visibly sweating. “If you don’t like it, we can get a different one.”
I mean to gently call for Sloan, but my screech can