The Forbidden Throb Chapter 153

Emma's POV:

I traced the band with my thumb, feeling the smooth platinum beneath my fingertips, and my mind drifted back to that hurried afternoon in Portland's city hall.

The simple platinum bands we'd exchanged—Daniel had bought both of them.

I remembered how he'd produced them so smoothly, as if he'd been prepared all along, while I'd stood there empty-handed, caught completely off-guard by the sudden reality of getting married.

At the time, I'd been too overwhelmed to think about it. But now, turning the yellow diamond to catch the light, I realized with a strange pang that I'd never actually bought him anything that symbolized our marriage.

Maybe I owed him a ring. One that I chose, that I saved for, that came from me.

I checked my phone: 8:47 AM. We were supposed to leave for the equestrian center at 11:30.

The decision crystallized with surprising speed.

I threw off the covers and headed for the bathroom, moving with purpose. A quick shower, minimal makeup. I pulled on a camel cashmere turtleneck and dark jeans, added my tan trench coat, and was out the door in twenty minutes.

The Uber driver made small talk about the weather as we wound through the Back Bay, but I barely heard him.

My mind was already three steps ahead, calculating and recalculating the numbers in my checking account.

We turned onto Newbury Street, and I felt my stomach flip.

The tree-lined boulevard looked like something out of a European postcard, all elegant Victorian brownstones converted into high-end boutiques. It was the kind of street where you could spend a month's rent on a handbag without anyone batting an eye.

I paid the driver and stood on the sidewalk for a moment, gripping my purse.

*You can do this. *

A woman in her mid-forties, elegant in a way that suggested decades of practice, looked up from a display case as I entered. Her smile was professional, warm, and—to my relief—showed no trace of judgment at my relatively simple outfit.

"Good morning," she said. "How may I help you today?"

I cleared my throat, willing my voice to sound steadier than I felt. "I'm looking for a men's wedding band. For my husband."

"Ah," she said, her smile deepening. "Then we'll want something that's both elegant and practical."

"We have several options in our men's collection," she continued, pulling out a velvet tray. "These are all platinum. It's hypoallergenic and incredibly durable."

The rings gleamed under the carefully positioned lights. Some were simple bands, others had intricate patterns or small diamond accents.

My eyes caught on one in particular—a wider band with a row of channel-set diamonds that caught the light beautifully.

"That's one of our most popular pieces," the saleswoman said, noticing my interest. " It's elegant without being ostentatious—refined, but understated enough for professional settings."

I picked it up, feeling the weight of it. It was beautiful, undeniably so.

"It's stunning," I said carefully. "How much?" I asked, before I could lose my nerve.

"Eight thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars."

I felt the blood drain from my face, but I kept my expression neutral. The number echoed in my head—almost everything I had saved.

But then I thought about Daniel's face last night in the car, the way he'd promised to be more careful because someone was waiting for him at home.

I set my jaw and met her eyes.

"I'll take it," I said.

---

The transaction took longer than I expected—sizing consultations, insurance paperwork, and so on.

The late morning sun seemed brighter, the air crisper. I'd just spent nearly all my savings on a ring. I was either incredibly romantic or incredibly stupid.

But I prefer the former.

I checked my phone: 10:15. Still time to get back, change, and pretend like I'd been home all morning.

I hailed another Uber, and during the ride back to Beacon Hill, I kept touching the box through the leather of my purse, as if to confirm it was real.

Daniel's car was already in the driveway when I arrived.

*Shit.*

I let myself in quietly, hoping maybe he was upstairs or on a call. No such luck—he was in the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in a charcoal cashmere sweater and dark jeans, looking unfairly handsome.

"Hey," he said, glancing up with a smile. "I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost in the house."

"Just went for a walk," I said, too quickly. "Needed some fresh air."

His eyes did that thing where they seemed to see right through me, but he just nodded. "Well, we should probably head out soon if we want to beat lunch traffic. Luke's place is about forty minutes outside the city."

"Right. Yes. I'll just—I'll go get ready."

I practically fled upstairs, my heart hammering. In my room, I carefully transferred the box and the velvet box containing the ring into a small leather crossbody bag. Then I stood in front of the mirror, taking deep breaths.

*You're just giving your husband a gift. People do this all the time.*

Except it didn't feel like just a gift. It felt like a declaration, a promise.

I touched up my makeup, changed into riding boots and a cream cable-knit sweater, and headed back downstairs. Daniel was waiting by the door, keys in hand, and something in his expression made me think he knew I was up to something.

But he didn't ask. He just held the door open, let me slide into the passenger seat of his car, and pulled smoothly out onto the street.

---

The drive out of Boston was beautiful.

We took Route 2 west, and the city gradually gave way to the rolling hills and stone walls of Concord. The trees were past their peak color but still lovely, gold and russet against a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

Daniel kept up a steady stream of conversation—easy, comfortable talk about Luke's new equestrian center, about the horses we might ride, about the lunch Luke's chef was supposedly preparing.

I responded when appropriate, but my mind kept drifting to the bag at my feet, to the weight of what I was planning to do.

"You're quiet," Daniel observed, glancing over at me. "Nervous about the horses?"