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“Why don’t you tell me a little about this woman, hm? And then maybe we can browse what we have and find something that you like.”
She walks toward the rows of glass cases, all filled with shiny rings. There’s nearly every shade of metal and every color gem I’ve ever seen. This isn’t as simple as I thought it would be: my idea of an engagement ring gets about as detailed as “big fuckin’ rock on twenty-four karat gold.”
“Well, ah, she’s really nurturing,” I murmur, looking into the glass cases to see if one of these rings might stand out to me. “And hard-working. I’ve never met a woman more kind or open than her. She—well, she can bring the best out of a rough man, you know?”
I look up to the woman, who eyes me with a bit of amusement. “I see. Is she flashy? Does she like gaudy things? Or is she simple? Dainty? Chunky?”
“Hm. She isn’t into expensive things. But I want her to have something special. Nothing gaudy. I don’t think she’d like something that didn’t seem like it fit her, yanno?”
The woman hums. Then she nods, directing me over to a line of cases toward the right. “Over here. I’m feeling drawn in this direction.”
We pass blue and red and green stones that look like garish kryptonite. It all makes me instinctively recoil. Not for her. Not for my woman.
When I get to the case the woman indicated, however, my impression changes.
It’s a case full of elegant-looking bands. Some are on the thinner side, with rose gold and bronze worked up into elaborate, branching configurations.
“All of these have elegance in mind. They are pricey; however, I would say that they aren’t as overbearing and overdone as some other options you may have seen.”
It’s an ocean of glittering jewels. The one that catches my eye, however, is a green gem cut round, set into a pale gold band that looks like a twisted vine.
Olivia has always said how much she likes my eyes. It’s her favorite thing about Violet and me, how we share our “twin set of emeralds,” as she calls them.
This is the one.
“You think I could add two smaller emeralds onto the sides of this setting?” I ask the woman. “And an engraving on the band.”
“Of course, sir. It’ll require an additional surcharge and we’ll need some time to perform the customizations, so you will need to come back to pick up the ring at a later date.”
“No problem.”
We get all the details hashed out. I drop half the amount now to secure the ring and the adjustments and set aside the next half for when it’s finished.
What’s above Cloud Nine? Does it just keep going? Cloud Ten? Eleven? A Thousand? A Million?
Checking my phone as I walk out of the shop, I see that it’s been almost an hour since I left. Olivia might be waking up by now, which means it’s the perfect time to swing around to the café and then?—
Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.
As soon as I step onto the sidewalk, bright flashes blind me. It takes me a second to recognize what’s going on.
Paparazzi.
I shield my eyes as the avalanche of camera flashes continues, stripping away my vision and my sanity at the same time.
“Yo, what the fuck?—”
“Mr. Dalton, is it true?” screeches the first of many voices.
“They say you have a wife—can you comment?”
“Mr. Dalton, when did you get your mistress pregnant?”
“Is your wife aware that you’re starting a family without her?”
“Mr. Dalton, be real with us. Has this whole thing with Olivia Carter just been a ruse to hide your real family?”
“Back the fuck up!” My voice roars through the crowd. It doesn’t stop them entirely but it sure as shit makes them back up off me. I have to look like a sight. Nostrils flaring. Breath in angry spurts. A real raging bull through and through.
