Ex husband Mercer follow up who decides to steal your ‘new ring’ to punish you….
Mercer crawling through your window, arms burning because it's been years since he scaled a building. Grinding his teeth against the urge to complain. Driven purely by jealousy he stalks through your bedroom and catches all the signs of another man.
Through the dim lighting he catalogues it - the shirt draped across a chair, a bed large enough for two, a careless stack of boots near the door. You'd always been so tidy, reminding him to clean up after himself, but some other man's allowed to leave his clothes strewn about the room?
Your ex husband digging through your drawers in search of it. That offensive, damning piece of jewelry. Mercer tells himself that he intends solely to piss you off but some part of him yearns for your attention. Even if it's anger, even if you despise him, at least you'll be looking at him again.
You're too distracted to hear him rifling through your drawer. Shouldering open your door you flip through a book, stepping easily into your bedchambers. It's still odd to live alone but you suppose it has some perks. No one snoring or leaving dishes piled in the sink. It's a bit lonely but it's peaceful, something you couldn't say about life with Mercer.
An intruder. You fling your book at them, heart in your throat as you dive toward the bed. There's a thud once your book connects with muscle and a groan of pain but you don't hesitate. They're clambering onto your bed, silhouette outlined by moonlight and you know you only have one chance. The dagger tucked under your mattress is cool against your palm as you withdraw it, angling yourself to strike.
"Fuckin - don't stab me!"
Mercer's calloused hand is on yours. He's grappling for your blade. Your ex husband is here, so close, right in front of you. His hand is closing around yours, fingers wriggling between yours and your heart nearly stops.
"Your new husband." His words are like venom. They burn through you, leaving nothing behind but that awful sadness you've been avoiding.
"Heard you got a shiny new ring, too."
He must be going insane. Mercer is certain this is his rock bottom. He's grasping for your hand, nearly distracted by your skin on his. It feels so fucking good, he's missed this too much. He's wrenching your hand closer, trying to form insults for whatever cheap ring you've been gifted.
He knows this ring. He purchased this ring. Mercer blinks, tracing the stone's familiar shape as if in a trance. All that vitriolic anger subsides as all the pieces fall into place.
"I don't have a new husband." The sweetest words he's ever heard. Mercer blinks at you, catching your features in the silvery moonlight and is staggered by how badly he's missed you. Your fingers curl where he's gripping your hand but you don't move away.
You don't have a new husband. He's trekked across Holds, clambered up your new home, and taken a book to the shoulder but it's all worth it to learn that you don't have a new husband.
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