I pause, my throat tight. “She doesn’t care about appearances. She’s more comfortable in my clothes than her own, and she looksdamngood in them. She’s my whole world and she has no idea.”
“And she puts up withyou?” he asks sarcastically.
“Unfortunately for her, yes,” I smile.
“Well then,” he says, walking towards a small case near the back. “We’ll need something bold—something that makes a statement, but doesn’t try too hard.”
“That sounds like her,” I say.
He pulls out a tray of rings—delicate settings, all different cuts, nothing that screams celebrity, but all of them timeless.
“Like I said, she’s not flashy,” I say, scanning the tray. “She likes edge—and detail.”
“Got it,” he replies. “Not a princess cut girl.”
“God, no. She’d throw it at me.”
He laughs. “Okay then. What about this one?”
He pulls a closed ring box out of the case and sets it in front of me. When he opens the box and shows it to me—I just know.
An emerald-cut solitaire on a slim white gold band, with a halo of smaller diamonds circling the stone and lining the band. Elegant. Detailed. Quietly bold.
Something about it feels like her when I hold it in my hand.
“Yeah,” I say, barely above a whisper. “That’s it.”
He boxes it up, and I pull out my card with hands that won’t stop shaking. This feels nothing like the last time I’d done this. I don’t remember putting this much thought into it. I hadn’t wanted to.
This is different.
This isher.
The perfect ring for the perfect girl.
Myperfect girl.
“Congratulations,” he says, passing me the little velvet box with care. “Hope she loves it the way you love her.”
“Me, too,” I say with a small smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. “Thanks again, man.”
The hospital lobby seems so different now.
Same buzzy lights. Same ugly-ass chairs. Just a little less chaotic, and a whole lot heavier.
I wrap my fingers around the velvet box in my pocket and make my way to the elevator. But it doesn’t take long to realize why the air feels so weighted—why something in me won’t let me move any farther.
One more test.
One more mountain to climb before I can make her mine forever.
Makenna, Macy, and their mother, Rebekah, stand in one of the waiting rooms off the main lobby looking like a damn jury. This isn’t going to be easy—not even a little. I know if I want to win over Mia, I need to win over her family first.
I stop in the doorway, bracing myself for impact as they notice me for the first time.
Makenna clocks me first. Her eyes narrow and she nudges Macy, who crosses her arms and looks like she’s ready to throw her coffee at me. Rebekah looks up last.
She doesn’t stand. She just stares—and somehow, that’s worse.
