The Best Man (Alpha Men Book 2)(55)

“Hmm?” There was surprise in the sound, and Daff cast him an exasperated look. He was standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom, watching her while he brushed his teeth vigorously, one powerful shoulder propped against the door frame.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice?”

“Things on my mind,” he said around his toothbrush.

“You seem to have a lot on your mind lately.”

“Hmm,” he agreed before turning away and heading into the bathroom. She heard him spit, rinse, and clean the basin and his toothbrush before he sauntered back into the room. He crawled onto the bed and straight between her recently moisturized legs. “This on my mind.”

He kissed her, and she melted with a blissful sigh and happily accepted his all-consuming, minty-fresh kiss. Of course the kiss led to other incredible wonders, and afterward Daff stretched blissfully as she considered the fact that every time with Spencer was absolutely amazing. He didn’t have a bag full of tricks to keep things spicy, but he didn’t need them. The man was extremely goal oriented and focused, and when he was in bed with her, he treated her like she was the center of his universe. At first it had been unnerving, being the sole recipient of all that attention. But now she craved it, and she felt like she would wither away if he were to deprive her of it.

It was early, she could tell from the hazy light in the room, and she heard the shower running. He was getting ready for work. Because of the expansion plans, he had been spending longer hours at his office. The renovations would start next week and the shop would be closed for two weeks in December, which was his most profitable time of year. He wasn’t thrilled about it.

Daff lay curled up beneath the covers, feeling lazy and disinclined to move. Her mind fluttered from one topic to the next while she hovered in that happy place between complete wakefulness and sleep. Charlie’s room was just about done, and she would be moving in next week, so Daff and Spencer would probably have to spend more time at Daff’s place. He probably wouldn’t stay over anymore, because he wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving the girl alone overnight. That was just the way he was made. Charlie was his responsibility and he’d promised to take care of her, and staying out all night wouldn’t be fulfilling that promise.

Daff was going to miss him. She’d miss this, the intimacy they’d built between them. The comfortable ease of his quiet companionship. Even with him being so withdrawn recently, she still preferred his company over most others’.

The shower switched off, and she listened to the familiar sounds of him drying off and then brushing his teeth—he did this weird humming thing whenever he brushed. In anyone else it would have annoyed her, but she found it endearing in Spencer.

She pushed herself up when he finally emerged from the steamy bathroom and smiled at him.

“Morning,” she greeted, and his lips quirked.

“Hey. Go back to sleep, darling,” he said, his voice pitched low. “It’s barely six.”

She sank back down under the covers and watched him get dressed. Every movement he made was quick and efficient. When he was fully dressed, he ran his fingers through his damp hair, not bothering with a brush, and strode over to the bed. He sat down on the side closest to her and dropped a kiss on her lips.

“I have back-to-back meetings today, so my phone will be off,” he said.

“See you tonight?”

“Maybe. Depends on how late the meetings run. I’ll still have some paperwork to do after that.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll text you if I have the time.”

“Okay.” She wanted to insist he make the time to text her, but that wasn’t her place. She couldn’t make demands on his time, just as she didn’t expect him to make demands on hers. That wasn’t how this worked.

“Have a good day,” he urged, dropping another kiss on her mouth before exiting the room abruptly. She heard the front door open and shut moments later. It was unusual for him to not even have coffee before heading out, so he was definitely pushed for time today.

Daff contemplated her own day. She really had absolutely nothing planned. Three weeks of unemployment, and she was already bored out of her skull. Who knew she’d miss going to that damned boutique every day? Maybe she hadn’t hated it as much as she’d thought. She shook her head, disgusted with herself for being so damned wishy-washy, and got up.

She tugged on her pajama top and contemplated her bare feet on the cold hardwood floor for a moment before padding over to Spencer’s gorgeous oak bureau and yanking open drawers until she found his socks. She smiled fondly at the neat arrangement and dug around for an old pair of rugby socks. Her hands hit an unusual object and she tugged it out before thinking the better of it. She was about to shove it back when she recognized it as a small velvet jewelry box. She stared at it for a long, blank moment, stunned to realize that Spencer had been this serious about Tanya.

Maybe she was wrong; maybe it wasn’t an engagement ring. But what else would be in a box this size? Earrings? Possibly. She scrutinized the closed box for a long moment, torn between her conscience and the need to know. Had he lied about the depth of his feelings for Tanya?

Slowly, against her better judgment, everything in her screaming to just put it down, she cracked open the lid. She inhaled sharply at the first sight of the beautiful ring nestled in the small, dark-velvet interior of the box.

Warm rose gold, with a pear-shaped pink stone framed by tiny diamonds, it was absolutely stunning. She couldn’t imagine flashy Tanya ever liking a discreet, beautifully elegant ring like this. She lifted it from the box with trembling fingers and noticed etchings on the inside of the narrow band.

Don’t look, Daff! Just don’t! her conscience shrieked, but she was already going to burn in hell for this, so she might as well go all in. She held it up and peered closely at the small, elegant script engraved inside the band.

Daff, my only love. S

“No,” she whispered, her throat going dry. Her hands started shaking so much she dropped the ring. It landed on the floor and rolled a short distance before losing momentum and teetering to a stop.

“Oh Spencer. Why did you do this?” The words were barely audible, and she continued to gape at the ring in horror. Like it was a snake poised to strike at any moment.

“Daff?” Spencer’s low and uncertain voice came from behind her, and she whirled around to see him standing in the bedroom doorway, his travel coffee mug clasped in one hand.

She looked trapped. Her eyes wide in her ashen face, her breath coming in shallow gasps. One hand clasped around the empty ring box.

Fuck.

“I—I was looking for s-socks,” she stuttered, and he nodded, putting his mug on the bureau and striding toward her. She flinched slightly, and he tried not to take it personally. He reached for her hand and removed the box from her slack hold. His eyes scanned the floor until he saw the ring lying about a meter away.

“Why do you have that?” she asked, her voice getting stronger and filled with anger and accusation. Spencer ignored her and bent to pick up the ring and gently place it back into the box. “You shouldn’t have that. I don’t want this.”

“I know,” he said placidly, trying not to show how much her words hurt him.

“So why do you have it?” she practically screeched. He lifted his face to the ceiling, fighting for control, trying to keep it together. “Why would you ignore my wishes like that? When you know this isn’t what I want.”

Always about her.

Finally, reaching the end of his tether, Spencer met her angry and confused eyes.

“Because I fucking love you, Daff!” He fought for control, but the words still flew out of his mouth at a louder volume than he intended. He brought it down to an angry whisper. “Because I want to marry you and spend the rest of my sorry life with you. Because this”—he waved the box angrily in her face—“this is what I want! It’s what I need.”

Finally running out of steam, he blinked rapidly, forcing the blurriness from his eyes.

“But I know it’s not what you want,” he continued, his voice softening and his heart breaking. “And that’s why it’s been lying at the bottom of my fucking sock drawer for weeks.”

“Spencer—”

“It’s okay. I’m not proposing, Daff,” he reassured quietly. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Her eyes were bright with tears, and it killed him to see them. He had never meant to make her cry.

“I’ve known, since I bought this ring, that I can’t do this. I love you, Daff. With everything in me. But you don’t want that love, and it’s breaking my heart—” His voice cracked on the last word and he cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure and do this right. “It’s breaking my heart to be in this nonrelationship with you. I’ve tried to be what you want, do this your way . . . but that’s not the kind of man I am. I’m an all or nothing guy, Daff. I want the world to know that we belong to each other. I want to be able to show you how I feel, tell you how I feel. I want us to . . .” He shook his head and simply said, “I want us.”