His Ring Her Rules

Lexi was the only one who could make sense to me, or at the very least, provide me both tea and criticism in equal measure.

There was a throw blanket on the couch that could suffocate a grown man, and the smell of toasted bagels and eucalyptus filled her abode. As if she already knew I was emotionally disturbed, she threw it over me as soon as I entered.

"You have that look," she replied, arching her brow.

"What do you see?"

The gaze that says, "I've been sucked in with my husband and now I don't know what's genuine."

I didn't deny it, but I rolled my eyes. She pushed chamomile tea into my hands, and I instead slid further into her couch and looked into it.

"You're not incorrect," I whispered.

Lexi settled down next to me. "Okay. Leak it.

I started, "It was just the snowstorm." "We were stranded. on the sofa. Cocoa. Silence. Additionally, it seemed for the first time that we weren't acting.

Her eyes become piercing. "What is *not pretending.*?"

I let out a sigh. He treated me as though I were more than just a public relations issue. And I thought, "God help me, I didn't hate it," as I looked at him.

Lexi blinked. "You're starting to feel something."

"No, *confusion* is what I'm catching." I fired back. "It's not the same."

"Grace. You are expecting a child. Married. And like it was a Christmas card scene, you just gave your contract husband a blanket and some chocolate. On your vision board, you are halfway done putting his name in a heart.

I let my head drop back dramatically and moaned. "I realize it's foolish. This was not intended to occur.

She crossed her legs and said, "Let me get this right." "You're outraged because it *feels* awful that a chilly billionaire who offered you a contractual marriage is beginning to feel like a human being—and maybe a wonderful dad."

"It feels dangerous," I said. "Because he will remind me that none of this was real in the first place the moment I begin to hope."

Lexi became softer. "No one is advising you to go right into love, Grace. However, don't close the door just because it didn't open as you had hoped."

For a long time, I gazed into my tea.

I muttered, "I think I like him, Lexi." "I like him, really, foolishly, inconveniently."

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "That isn't foolish. It's courageous."

I didn't respond. I wasn't prepared to label it courageous.

However, as I sat there with my best friend by my side, a baby growing inside of me, and a lavender-scented blanket, I came to the realization that:

Whether or not I enjoyed it

I was going down.

And it really frightened me.