Preston must have noticed my hesitation because he took a step back, his features softening.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I promised I’d wait. And I will. For as long as you need.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded and turned toward the closet, but before I could walk away, he grabbed a small envelope from the nightstand.
“I wanted to give you your wedding gift,” he said, stopping me with nothing but his voice.
I blinked, confused. My fingers trembled as I opened it, my damp hair clinging to my skin.
I scanned the papers inside — my breath catching like I’d been punched in the chest.
51% of Harper Industries.
I looked up, my chest tightening. “Preston, this is Travis’s company.”
“No,” he said, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face with his knuckles, so gentle it made my throat close up. “It’s yours now.”
I shook my head, the weight of the document sinking into my bones. “I can’t — this is too much. Why would you do this?”
“Because I want you to win,” he said, his voice steady, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you deserve justice. And because I love you, even if you’re not ready to love me back yet.”
Tears welled in my eyes, he was so kind it hurt.