The Forbidden Throb Chapter 154

Emma's POV:

"No," I said. "Well, maybe a little. But that's not—" I caught myself. "I'm fine. Just... thinking."

Daniel's hand left the steering wheel to briefly squeeze mine. "We don't have to ride if you don't want to. We can just walk the grounds, have lunch. Whatever you're comfortable with."

*God, Emma, get it together.*

By the time we pulled into the long gravel drive leading to Luke's equestrian center, my nerves had ratcheted up to near-panic levels.

The facility was gorgeous—all weathered wood and clean lines, with white-fenced paddocks stretching out in every direction. Horses grazed peacefully in the sun, their coats gleaming.

When we sat down and placed our order, I sat at the table, acutely aware of the small leather bag at my feet.

I picked up my water glass, set it down, and picked it up again. Folded my napkin. Unfolded it. Refolded it into a different shape.

I'd rehearsed this a dozen times in my head during the drive. Casual. Breezy.

*Just give it to him. Hand him the box. Say something simple. It doesn't have to be perfect.*

"Emma," Daniel said quietly. "You've been nervous all morning. Is there something you want to tell me?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Felt heat flood my cheeks.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to barely above a murmur. "Or maybe... something you want to give me?"

My eyes widened. "How did you—"

"You've been looking at your bag every thirty seconds since we sat down," he said, amusement threading through his voice. "And you get this little crease right here—" he touched the spot between my eyebrows gently "—when you're working up the courage to do something that scares you."

"I hate that you know me so well," I muttered.

I took a deep breath, reached down for my bag, and pulled out the box before I could second-guess myself.

My hands were shaking as I picked it up. "And this is—" My voice cracked. I cleared my throat, tried again. "We've been married for months, and you've given me so much, and I realized this morning that you need this—"

I couldn't finish. Instead, I pushed the blue box across the white tablecloth toward him, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.

Daniel stared at the box for a long moment. Then his gaze lifted to mine, and the intensity in his eyes made it hard to breathe.

"Emma—"

"I know it's probably not as expensive as the one you gave me," I said in a rush. " But I wanted to give you something that tells everyone you're—" I swallowed hard. "That you're mine."

The last word came out barely above a whisper. I stopped, my hands twisting together in my lap.

Saw the way his jaw tightened. He didn't open the box immediately. Instead, he stared at it for a long moment, his thumb tracing the edge of the blue velvet.

I watched his face anxiously, trying to read his expression.

*Say something. Please say something.*

Finally, slowly, he lifted the lid. The platinum band caught the light from the windows, the diamond throwing tiny rainbows across the white tablecloth.

Daniel went very still.

"It looks..." he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual. "It looks like it was made for me."

Relief flooded through me so suddenly, my eyes stung. "You like it?"

"Like it?" He looked up, and something in his expression made my chest tight. "Emma, it's perfect."

"I know it's not much," I said quickly. "But when I make more money, I can get you something better, something that—"

"Stop." The word was gentle but firm. He set the ring down carefully and reached for my hand, threading our fingers together. "This is more than enough."

"But—"

"Emma." He squeezed my hand. "Do you know what makes this ring precious?"

I was confused.

"Not the platinum. Not the diamond. Not even the fact that you spent your savings on it." His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "What makes it precious is that it's from you. That you chose it. That you wanted me to have it."

His eyes held mine, warm and impossibly tender. "The value isn't in the price tag. It's in what it represents—your heart, your commitment, your desire to claim me as publicly as I've claimed you."

A small smile curved his lips. "That's worth more than anything money could buy."

My vision blurred. "This is ridiculous," I said, my voice breaking. "I'm the one giving you a gift, so why am I the one getting emotional?"

Daniel's expression softened into something unbearably fond. He reached up to brush away a tear that had escaped down my cheek.

His thumb traced along my cheekbone. "Because you finally understand how much this means to me. "

Then he did something I didn't expect. Instead of slipping the ring on himself, he set it carefully back in the box and extended his left hand to me, palm up, fingers slightly spread.

His knuckles tapped lightly against the tablecloth, and his eyes held mine with an intensity.

"This is a wedding ring, Emma," he said softly. "So I think you should be the one to put it on me."

*Oh.*

My hands were definitely shaking now as I picked up the ring. It felt heavier than it had in the store, weighted with significance. I reached for his hand, and he met me halfway, his fingers warm and steady against mine.

The ring slid on smoothly, perfectly sized, settling into place like it had always belonged there.

I couldn't look away from it—from the way the platinum gleamed against his skin, from the subtle flash of the diamond, from the rightness of seeing that finger finally, *finally* marked as taken.

"It fits," I whispered.

"Just like us." His voice was impossibly gentle.

He turned his hand over, threading our fingers together, and I felt the cool metal of the ring press against my skin. The sensation made something in my chest crack open.