Chapter 3: Ring

It's been a week since Juliet delivered Ethan, and something was off with her. He didn't know what, but it was there. The way she avoided his eyes, or shied away from his touch. She was putting up walls for some reason, and James couldn't for the life of him understand why.

He assumed it was because he'd been the one to pull her out of retirement. But what other choice did he have? None, and she knew that. He couldn't just let a baby die. (Besides… he hadn't known who the baby would eventually be. If he had… Maybe that would've been another story.)

But here he was, coming home from a long day at work and she was barely making eye contact. She served him a slice of meatloaf, his favorite, and then immediately started cleaning up after the meal without grabbing a plate for herself.

Yeah. Something was definitely off.

"You okay, baby?" he chanced asking, trying to keep his tone neutral and even, despite internally gearing up for a fight.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Fine."

He dropped his fork, the clattering sound making Juliet turn to face him. "Bullshit."

"What?" She sounded breathless, amped up. Like she, too, had been mentally preparing for this conversation (whatever that even was).

"You. Somethin's the matter."

She bit her lip, hard. It was her tell. "Nothing's the matter, James."

He scoffed and tossed an accusatory glare her way. "Like hell it ain't! You ain't been yourself since that little tyrant was born, and you know it."

Juliet crossed her arms across her chest, glancing away. She leaned her weight against the counters. "I'm fine."

"No. You're not. I know you been avoidin' me, problem is I just don't know why."

She glared at him. "I haven't been avoiding you, I've just had–"

He raised his eyebrows, studying her. "Had…?"

She blushed. And that caught him off-guard. "I've been busy. That's all."

James pushed his chair back, dinner forgotten. "Busy. That's what we're gonna call it."

"Yes, James. I've had some things to take care of."

He rolled his eyes. "Like what?" Before she could even answer, he continued, "Look, I know it was weird, alright? And I'm sorry I dragged ya into it. But I didn't have a choice!"

"I know you didn't–" Juliet tried to argue, but still James continued.

"I couldn't let a baby die, and yeah, I know Horace was pissed when he found out about you, but it was prob'ly gonna happen sooner or later, so–"

"James…"

"No, let me finish. Juliet, ya done good, here, okay? And–"

"James!" she finally shouted, and James could see the wild look in her eyes that meant she was serious. He stopped talking. "Thank you. Listen…" Juliet stepped forward and took both of his hands in hers. "I have… something to tell you."

James froze. He'd been on the receiving end of this conversation exactly twice in his entire life, and neither had been good news. She was either leaving him or dying, and he couldn't stomach either of those possibilities.

Suddenly he was intensely regretful of having said anything at all.

He waited for what felt like an eternity for her mouth to form the words. But then she did, and all the air was sucked from the room. "I'm pregnant."

Time stood still.

Her hands, which were still gripping his, began to shake.

Or wait… maybe that was him.

He blinked, unsure of what to say.

He was quiet for so long, Juliet eventually cleared her throat and spared him from having to say anything at all. "I had a test done, at the infirmary." She took a deep, shaky breath, tears already forming at the edges of her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to tell you, so I didn't, and–"

"You're sure." It was a statement rather than a question, but she nodded anyway.

"Yes. I'm sure."

He nodded, feeling like a damn bobblehead. He couldn't stop nodding. It was all making sense now.

He couldn't recall the last time she had a period. She'd winced the last time they had sex and he'd taken her breast in his hand. She hadn't had meat in… how long, now? Two weeks?

His head felt like the air traffic controller had abandoned their post. Thoughts of all types were crashing into one another, completely oblivious to where they were headed. He felt the entire gamut of emotions colliding and coalescing like in those kaleidoscopes he had when he was a kid.

But when he tuned out the noise, and really homed in on what was burning most brightly in his gut, there was one, clear feeling radiating out, casting shadows amongst the rest.

Joy.

"I'll be right back," he muttered, and dropped her hands. She called after him, probably worried he was about to go heave up his guts or something, but he had one goal and one goal only.

He shouldn't have waited this long. What the hell had he been thinking?

He knew she was watching him dig through the floorboards. He didn't care. The secret would be out soon anyway, and now he didn't need this spot anymore. One way or another, he'd find out soon what her answer would be. He needed to ride out this feeling before he let Fear take back over his subconscious; this couldn't wait a second longer.

He felt so desperate, so overwhelmed, that his breathing was coming in short, anxious pants. He hadn't wanted it to go like this. He'd wanted it to be big and romantic and worthy of her.

But she'd kept this from him. Because she hadn't known how he would react.

That wasn't okay.

He turned to face her, velvet bag in his hand. Her face was white as a sheet, and she sat down on the edge of the bed with one hand placed protectively over her heart. "What's…" she whispered, her eyes glued to his hand.

"I bought this months ago, baby," he choked out, and it was only then that he recognized the emotion clogging his airway. He couldn't breathe with how badly he needed to get this out. He needed to reassure her that he intended on being there for her through anything. "This ain't got nothin' to do with…" His eyes flicked to her stomach before landing back on her face.

"James," she whispered, and began shaking her head.

"No, please," he insisted, urgently now, begging her to hear him. He sat on the bed next to her, and with shaking fingers, he dumped the small diamond ring into his open palm. "Juliet, I love you. I've loved you for three years. It don't matter when or where we are, that ain't gonna change." He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. He couldn't look at her. The Fear that kept him from asking was rearing its ugly head, demanding to be seen, to be noticed.

"I wanna marry you. If you'll let me. And anything we made together, well… that's just an added bonus. I want that too. I want all of you. And I should'a told you sooner. I'm sorry."

She was shaking. He could feel it. But her hands held his with a vice-like grip. "Why didn't you ask me sooner?" she whispered, and when he finally chanced a glance up to her face, he saw she was crying.

"I was scared you'd say no," he admitted, and it felt oddly freeing, to be honest for once. Even now, with her answer still hanging between them, unsaid, he felt lighter than he had just the day before. At least it was out in the open now. At least she could decide.

But then something happened that James hadn't expected. Juliet began to laugh.

James felt that knee-jerk reaction behind his ribs to rise to anger. This wasn't funny - the fuck was she laughing about? But she was also stroking his arms, his face, his hair. She covered her mouth with one hand and looked at him so adoringly, he didn't know what the fuck to think.

"I ordered you a ring this morning," Juliet choked out between breathless gasps. "I was going to ask you to marry me."

James blinked. "Come again?"

And it only made Juliet laugh harder. "You thought… And I bought you… Because I didn't think you'd ever ask!"

He grinned. "So… you're sayin' yes?"

She tackled him, arms entwining around his neck with a strength that knocked the wind out of him. "Yes! I'm saying yes!"

He wrapped his arms around her, clutching her like a life preserver. "Then I say yes, too." He inhaled her scent, feeling weightless and euphoric and drained. "To all of it, baby. To all of it."

He kissed her shoulder. It was wet from the tears he didn't even know he was crying.