Page 43 of Marrying Mr. Wentworth (Austen Hunks #3)

Wedding night — Christopher

I didn’t mean to knock. I meant to walk away. Tell myself that her eyes meeting mine across that church were enough. That the dance was enough. That the feel of her body pressed to mine, her forehead against my chest— enough.

But I couldn’t. So I knocked.

Three short taps. Quiet. Just in case she didn’t answer.

But she did. A crack in the door. A flash of her face.

Then—surprise. Not anger. Not exhaustion. Not fear.

Just…Ariana.

Messy hair. Clean face. That green satin dress halfway unzipped and sliding off one shoulder. And something unguarded in her eyes that undid me completely.

She stepped aside. No words.

I walked in. Closed the door and turned.

And then I saw it.

The ring on her finger.

My ring. Vegas gold and rhinestone, cheap and stupid and perfect.

On her hand like it belonged there. I stared at it. Not subtle. Not hiding it.

Just— staring.

She followed my gaze. And her breath hitched.

“I don’t know why I still have it,” she said quickly. “It’s not—it doesn’t mean?—”

“Ari.”

She stopped. I stepped closer. Held out my hand. Not for her.

For the ring.

“Let me see it.”

She hesitated.

Then slowly, she held her hand out palm down, like it was fragile. Like she was.

I took her fingers gently in mine and traced the band.

“It fits,” I said quietly.

“So do old habits,” she whispered.

I looked up at her. Close now. Closer than I’d been all night.

“Why are you wearing it?” I asked.

Her eyes flicked to mine. “I don’t know.”

“Because you want it to be real?” I pressed.

A pause. A breath. “Yes.”

“But you’re still scared?” I asked next.

She nodded.

So did I. “Me too,” I said.

She didn’t speak. Just stared at me with that impossible look I’d never quite learned how to survive.

“But I want to be scared with you,” I said. “Not scared of you. Not of us. Not anymore.”

Her voice broke when she said, “I don’t know how to do this again.”

“That’s okay,” I murmured. “We’ll figure it out.”

“What if I break again?”

“Then I’ll help you put the pieces back.”

Silence. Tension. Everything buzzing.

Then—she leaned in. And her mouth met mine.