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His Subaru is already in the lot when I arrive, not that I’m surprised—he has an uncanny ability to judge when he has to leave anywhere in order to arrive five minutes early. I pull in next to him and get out at the same time he does.
I have to smile a little at the sight of his peacoat and the blue-checkered shirt beneath it. Both Mira picks, I’m guessing.
“Isn’t this the kind of thing you should be doing with Ruthie?” I ask as I clap him on the back. “Or someone who believes in marrying for love?”
He gives me a dubious look. “Why else would someone get married?”
I feel like fessing up, but I won’t break my deal with Ruthie. So I just shrug. “People do things for a lot of messed-up reasons.”
“I asked you because you always know if someone’s trying to screw me over. I’d prefer to know before it happens.”
“Leonard or Burke would probably know too,” I say, because our friends are fellow members of Cupid’s cult. Burke is already engaged, and Leonard is halfway there.
Danny gives me a sidelong look. “But you’ve been looking out for me since we were six.”
Emotion tries to make a ball in my throat and choke me, but I swallow it down with as much enthusiasm as if it were grocery store cake.
“You don’t need me for that anymore.”
“No,” he says, tapping his fingertips against the top of my car. “I suppose not.”
“What about your sister?” I ask, because my mind is on her. “She’d love to do this with you.”
“I don’t know, man. You care about being stylish.” He motions to my suit as if it’s evidence A. “You know I don’t give a shit about stuff like that, but Mira does.”
“And Ruthie doesn’t?” I ask, amused, thinking of those pajamas she bought for him.
“She always looks nice,” he says in a pained tone, because he hates admitting anything is less than perfect about his sister. In this instance, he’s right. She’s on a shoestring budget, but she always does look nice. So does Izzy. I’m guessing she has a list of things she’d like to buy for her brother, but she probably only had enough extra cash to get him the five-dollar pajama special at Wal-Mart. She still insists on getting him gifts, though, even though it costs her and probably doesn’t bring him much pleasure. I can’t decide whether that’s noble or just stupid.
Danny rubs the spot between his eyes, like he’s getting a headache. “Mira hated the reading glasses Ruthie got for me. So I figured I shouldn’t go to her for ring advice.”
I’m not sure what possesses me, but I look at him and say, “You should still ask. Ruthie would like to be asked. Maybe narrow it down to a few options and send some photos to get her take. It’ll help her feel involved.”
He gives me a half smile. “See, this is why I needed to bring you. You’re much better at manipulating people than I am.”
He’s mostly messing with me, but I really do think he means it as a compliment. Maybe I’d take it as one, if I didn’t have Ruthie in my head, frowning at me.
I nod to him. “Don’t let anyone talk you into buying something you can’t afford. You don’t want the kind of woman who’ll only agree to marry you if the rock’s big enough.”
“Mira’s not like that,” he says immediately.
“I know, she’d marry you even if you let Ruthie pick the ring.”
“You think?”
“You’re not one of the people I’m paid to lie to. And despite the fact that you’ve only been dating her for three months, I’m not going to tell you it’s a mistake. I like Mira. She doesn’t have the vibe of a woman who’s going to drag you to court in a few years so she can take half of your computer shit and then destroy it on camera.”
His smile returns. “I take it that really happened. Who’d you represent?”
“They were golf clubs,” I say, nodding to the front of the store to signal it’s time to get moving. “And that’s confidential.”
Danny laughs, but by the time we reach the front of the store, he’s quiet again. I know it’s not just nerves about the proposal. He hates shopping in general. He can’t handle the lights and noise, not to mention the overly friendly strangers trying to sell him something. A salesperson is already staring straight at us—a man with dyed blond hair and a knowing gleam in his eyes.
“We could always shop online,” I suggest, lifting my eyebrows.
“And here I thought you had exacting standards,” Danny says. Then he takes a deep breath and pushes the door inward; I follow him in. I must feel nervous for him, because my palms are slick, my tie more confining than usual.
I can imagine Ruthie giving me a saucy look, her hand on your hip. Serves you right. Did you really have to wear a suit to visit your mother and go ring shopping with my brother?
