"Working for a presidential campaign," I continue. "I was asked to join the press team for Gregory Coldman."
Jared arches his eyebrows. "Let me rephrase that: that's beyond great, Button! How the hell did you pull that off?"
I give him a cautious smile. "It's... I know it's great. But it would mean that I'd be busy as hell, and I'd have to do a lot of traveling, especially if he makes it as far as becoming a candidate."
Jared nods.
"I understand that," he says. "But it's a great opportunity for you, far bigger than what we are."
"Nothing is bigger than we are," I correct him, feeling slightly hurt at how easily he's ready to part with me.
His face changes into a solemn smile. "Of course, you're right. Which is exactly why you need to do this. If that is what you want."
"It is," I say. "I mean, I know you didn't exactly feel comfortable in that area, but I think it could be really exciting. And I wouldn't be gone that much, at least not at first. And if it ends up becoming super huge, then-"
"Then we'll deal with it," he finishes my sentence. He leans forward, fixating his attention on me with his dark eyes while reaching for my hands. "I'm so fucking proud of you."
I blush at his praise. Him telling me, the man I love, that he's "fucking proud" of me is the most wonderful thing I could think of. I never doubted his respect for me, despite the way our dynamics change once we're playing, but the way he looks at me now, the way he understands, respects, and loves who I am... what else could I ever ask for?
"But there's one thing that worries me," he adds, knitting his eyebrows.
"Yes?"
"You, out there, all by yourself," he says, his eyes locking onto mine. "My sexy Button, turning every man's head with her beauty, her sass, her talent. You're more than most men would ever dare ask for."
I blush and let out a helpless chuckle. "I don't think th-"
"Let's just make sure that everyone knows you're mine," he says, cutting me off.
I don't know what he's trying to say, until he gets up from his seat, still holding my hand while he walks around the table, coming to a halt right next to me.
"Jared, what..."
My voice breaks when he goes down on one knee, a smile that never lacks his characteristic obscurity appearing on his face.
"You're mine," he says. "My partner in crime, my equal, my savior, my everyday challenge, and my everyday delight."
He pauses, smirking at my reaction as he produces a little jewelry box from the inside pocket of his jacket and drops to his knee. He opens the box, revealing a simple twisted split band ring with a round diamond setting.
"Ann Porter, will you do me the honor of wearing this ring and letting the world know that you're my everything, my wife-"
"Yes!" I cut him off, before I drop down from my chair, falling right into his open arms, tears threatening to betray my idea about being a strong and self-sustained woman. "Yes, yes, yes."
"And here I was, thinking that this could be the last time you'd let me have the final word," he breathes into my ear. "My sassy Button."
"Never," I reply, between showering him with kisses. "You're mine just as much as I'm yours."
Thank you for reading!
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The Bet
Natalie Wrye
Prologue
VIOLET
TWO YEARS AGO
We had done it; every bone in my body was telling me so.
The cushion underneath the backs of my knees is cold, and in a hospital gown the color of an early morning sky, I can’t stop moving. Can’t stop fidgeting in the itchy blue uniform.
I swear the goddamned clock on the wall is taunting me, and as I stare at its slow-moving hands, panic starts to set in, making my fingers and toes tingle in the frigid white room.
I can’t breathe my heart is beating so hard, until at last that cold blue door opens with the doctor. The “Sorry” written in her small smile is enough, and she walks closer, closing the door behind her, I let go of a long breath, my fingers flying to my brow as I wipe away a line of sweat.
My hand shakes as I lower it, my lips spreading into what I fear is a watery smile. I glance up at her.
“So?” I prod. “Bad news?”
She nods, her brown eyes dimming. “I’m sorry, Violet… I’m afraid so.”
I laugh, feeling no humor in the sound. “Guess I’m not getting the Christmas present I’d hoped for.”
My doctor smiles, the sad expression still reassuring on her pretty face. “Consider this, Violet. You still haven’t given up yet. And you shouldn’t.” She reaches her hand out to shake mine. “If it isn’t this Christmas, it’ll be the one after that. Or the one after that. Sometimes the gift we want right now isn’t the gift we need.” She nods slowly. “Give it time. It will happen, Mrs. Hudson.”
The sound of my marital name on her lips is enough to dissolve me into sobs, and within minutes, I am in Dr. Wannamaker’s arms, wrapped in the warmest hug the physician can offer.
I dress quicker than a runway model, my feet practically skating as I exit the icy offices. Climbing behind the black leather wheel of my white Jag, tears—hot and steady—form at the corners of my eyes, falling everywhere, and as I take a turn out of the parking lot, heading home, my mind is still stuck on all the holiday gifts I haven’t picked up, the loads of errands still left to do before Christmas Day weighing down on my mind like a load that won’t let up.
I drop by the nearest gift-wrapping place I can find, fitting a couple of my early presents in.
The doctor’s news bubbling up inside of me, I can’t resist the urge to drop by my house for a drink. I practically crawl into my front door less than fifty minutes later, my arms aching as I set a baseball team’s worth of bags onto my cherry hardwood floor, my tear-filled eyes too blurry to notice the unexpected company in my condo.
Until I hear the footsteps.
The soft sound of shoe-falls makes me stop inside my own threshold, and instinctively, I reach towards my stomach, holding one hand over my belly button as a flutter finds its way there and stays.
I call out, my voice cracking on a croak. “Hello?” I say towards the kitchen, fear planting my feet to the floor. “Is anyone there?”