Truth (Betrothed #10) - Penelope Sky Page 0,74
boots he usually wore. I’d picked everything out for him, and he wore the clothes without complaint, which was great, because he looked so handsome.
I was still on the floor. “You got me something?”
He sat on the couch, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. “Yes.”
“You didn’t have to do that…”
“You didn’t have to get me anything either.”
“Well, you didn’t need to get me something just because—”
“I got your gift a month ago.”
So, he’d already picked it out before I even thought about Christmas. “You want to open them now?”
“Sure.”
I grabbed both of them and sat beside him, handing him his small gift.
“You first.” He rested it on his thigh.
I grabbed the flower and brought it to my nose, immediately thinking of summer from the smell alone. The petals grazed my cheek, making me think of a meadow in the hot sun. “You should take me to your place is Tuscany sometime.”
“How about this summer?” he asked. “We’ll have a second honeymoon.”
I rested the flower on the couch beside me before I broke through the tape that affixed the wrapping to the box. I ripped it off, revealing a simple black box with a lid. When I took off the lid, the contents were wrapped in tissue paper, like it was a pair of shoes. I pulled everything away until I stared at a pair of pink ballet slippers.
They were beautiful.
I could tell they were well made, and when I looked at the designer imprint on the sole, I released a quiet gasp. Philippa Julio. It was one of the most luxurious brands in the world, something I’d never been able to afford on my own.
And they were pink.
My fingers felt the fabric, felt the wrapping, felt the instant connection that formed in my soul. My whole life was dancing, and looking at the slippers made me realize how much I missed it.
His hand moved to my wrist. “You will dance again, Sunflower.”
I turned to him, my eyes wet from his confidence, his belief in me.
“I know you will—and you’re going to wear these.”
“Heath…” A tear dripped down my cheek. “Oh fuck.” I wiped it away. “Not my makeup…”
“Personally, I think you look better that way.” He made a joke to lighten the mood, knowing that his gesture was almost too much for me to handle.
I sniffed. “Well…thank you. I love them.”
“I know you do.”
I placed the lid back on top, hiding the shoes from view.
“I can’t wait to see you put them on.” He leaned in close to me and pressed a kiss to my hairline. “And then dance in them.”
“Yeah…me too.” I placed the box on the table, along with the flower. “Now, your turn.”
He picked it up and held it between his fingertips, noting how light and small it was. “It’s not lingerie, so that’s a disappointment.” He gave me a gentle smile before he peeled the wrapping away and got to the black box underneath. When he popped off the top, he saw the simple black band inside, the wedding ring made from a fallen meteorite. I didn’t just want to give him a random piece of jewelry made of gold or steel. I wanted something special, so I gave up my savings to give him something that didn’t even come from this world.
He examined it with narrowed eyes, his fingers sliding across the material as if he recognized its unusual properties.
“It’s made out of meteorite. There’s this special jeweler that carries it…”
He turned to me, his eyes soft and deep, like he didn’t know how to feel about my gift.
“I’d like you to wear that for the rest of your life…”
He slid it onto his left hand, putting it in place on his ring finger. It fit perfectly after a gentle shove over his knuckles. Then he examined it, turning his hand over to see it from different angles.
He was hard to read sometimes, so I wasn’t sure how he felt about it. But I hoped he liked it…or at least the thought behind the gesture.
He finally turned to me, leaving the ring on his left hand. “I love it.”
“Yeah?”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “I’ll never take it off, baby.”
I knew that wasn’t a jab at me, but a declaration.
“And I’ll be buried with it.”
“I know it’s not as nice as your Skull King—”
“It’s better.” He took off the skull diamond and tossed it onto the coffee table, like it really meant nothing to him. “I would much rather wear this for the