His Ring Her Rules

I was surprised by the laughter—loud, sincere, and mine.

It had been a long time since I had made that sound. Since the gala, no. Since him, no.

In order to illustrate "ideal birthing positions," Camila, our ever-enthusiastic prenatal coach, had just taken out a soft womb-shaped pillow with a stick-on baby doll. It was absurd. Funny. A little terrifying.

And I got it. I laughed out loud on the screen, holding my stomach, my cheeks flushed, and tears welling up in my eyes.

"Grace! Are you alright over there? Camila chuckled.

"I'm fine," I said in between chuckles. "I'm just—trying to never see that baby pillow again."

Everyone in the group laughed. I briefly forgot that I was the lone lady seated there. The tabloids didn't feature me in the scandal. Like everyone else, I was just a soon-to-be mother finding things out.

Then I heard it.

The little sound of pricey hinges clicking. The sound of shiny shoes on wood floors.

I turned my head toward the sound and froze in the middle of a smile.

Ethan Blackwood was standing at the entrance to the sinking living room.

There was nothing he said. merely observing me.

He was wearing his regular suit, sleeves rolled and no tie. His face was unreadable. However, not in the typical "I have an empire to run" manner. No. This was not like the others.

His eyes weren't distant or frigid.

They were supple.

Startled.

As though he had entered a room anticipating a contract and instead saw a woman. Me. I'm laughing. Maybe I'd glow if I could be that giving.

I instantly hushed myself, trying not to wriggle under his stare while the screen continued to display animated pelvic tilt diagrams.

I apologized, a little out of breath. "I didn't hear you enter the room."

"I observed." His speech was soft and low. Not chilly. Not patronizing. Just noticed.

He moved closer, still observing me as though I were a puzzle he had yet to solve.

At last, he murmured, as if astonished, "You were laughing."

I said, "I do that sometimes," while continuing to hold the throw pillow in my lap.

"Not recently."

Aww.

"I suppose that not everyone finds prenatals amusing."

"I wasn't referring to the class." His gaze met mine. "In general," I meant.

A knot formed in my chest. Not in a painful way. It was just tight enough to tell me that I had become a bit too accustomed to seeing him, too.

I muttered, "I'm trying." "To rediscover parts of myself."

He gave one nod. Slow. measured. then took an unexpected action.

As if he had just recalled that I was pregnant and likely cold, he came over, grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, and gave it to me. It lacked grandeur and drama. However, it was... something.

He said, "I'll let you finish your class," and turned to go.

"Ethan?"

He stopped and turned around.

"I'm grateful. for taking notice.

A flicker. All I could see in his face was that. However, it was present.

A change.

He nodded just a little. Then he walked away without saying another thing.

Return to his world of boardrooms and mergers.

However, not before I noticed it:

A fissure in the armor of Blackwood.

It's possible that I wasn't the only one who changed.