She takes a moment to appraise the blue frog cufflink she can see before replying, “David Webb cufflinks can go for anywhere between $1500 to $2000 apiece.”
I choke on my spit. “Apiece?! As in, one pair could cost as much as $4000?”
With a shrug, she nods.
“Are you sure?” My skyrocketing pulse makes my words as weak as my head.
Regan gives me a look. It’s herdon’t you dare judge my knowledge of designer babieslook. Once all the color has drained from my cheeks, she asks, “Who gave them to you?”
Jealousy echoes in her tone, but I’m too confused to respond to anything but her question. “Kristin.”
My confusion jumps onto Regan’s face. “Kristingavethem to you?”
I nod again. “Because they didn’t look as expensive as the Bulgari ones she gifted me last year, I threw them on. I wouldn’t have if I knew how expensive they were.”
Regan’s brows become lost in her hairline. “Kristin gave you Bulgari cufflinks?” Spotting my nod, she asks in a flurry, “What do they look like?”
My face screws up. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen them, but they had an ugly design I can’t forget. “An old coin stuffed into a circular design.”
“And they’re stamped Bulgari?”
I can’t tell if Regan’s high tone is in excitement or panic, but it keeps the nods coming.
After her finger punishes her cell, Regan swivels her screen to face me. “Do they look like this?”
She has a photo of my cufflinks displayed on her phone. When I confirm she’s located the right pair, she squeals, “They’re Monete Antiche cuffs! They cost over seven thousand dollars!”
Her ear-piercing scream causes me to swerve onto the wrong side of the road. Mercifully, I right my wrong before we crash into a delivery truck traveling on the other side—barely! With my heart in my throat, I pull my sedan to the curb. This will be a conversation best held while I’m not driving.
After settling my high heart rate, I accept Regan’s phone she’s holding out for me. I don’t need to authenticate her claim; it is the symbol in the bottom corner of her screen that has my palms slicking with sweat. I saw the same logo earlier today. It was on the photo Kristin sent me when she tried to say Regan’s nephew was my son.
Regan eyes me curiously when I dig my phone out of my pocket and fire it up. “Where was this photo taken?” I hand my phone to her. Her teeth grit when she notices it is a picture of her and the baby I am assuming is her nephew. “I didn’t take it; it was forwarded to me, but where were you when this was taken?”
I throw an imaginary fist in the air when she believes my excuse without any hesitation crossing her face. “I was at On Point boutique with Raquel. She was looking for a dress for graduation.”
“So it’s a fancy store?” Her screwed-up nose stops when I finalize my question, “One filled with clothes more expensive than a widow could afford?”
Regan scoffs, “On Point isn’t up to my standards, but you can’t buy a scarf for under three hundred dollars.”
My jaw muscle tightens. “And these? How much do these cost?” I flick my finger over the screen of my phone three times until it displays a photo Kristin sent me two days ago when she and the girls went on a factory shopping tour in Orlando. My bed is covered head to tail with clothes, shoes, and handbags.
Regan purses her lips. “My knowledge doesn’t extend to kids’ clothing.” My sigh stops halfway up my chest when she quickly adds on, “But Kristin’s boots. . . I bought those babies three months ago. Even my budget found that purchase hard to swallow.”
“So they’re expensive?”
Regan rolls her eyes. “Yes. Very much so. Even factory, you’re looking at a few thousand.”
When I growl, she quickly adds on, “People handle grief differently, Alex. Maybe this is Kristin’s way of coping?” She licks her dry lips before forcing out, “It’s how I coped.”
At first, I assume she is talking about Luca’s death. It is only when our eyes collide do I realize I am wrong. She’s talking about our separation.
I cup her jaw in my hand before running my thumb over her top lip. “But that’s different. You have the means to grieve any way you see fit. Kristin doesn’t. But even if she did, this isn’t the first time I’ve noticed a pattern like this.”
Regan’s brows scrunch, confused as to what I mean.
I ease her bewilderment. “Kristin has lavished me with gifts for years. The expensive cologne you ribbed me for wearing, that was a gift from Kristin. Their wedding was extravagant, way above Dane’s means, and their house was built to her very strict specifications. Anything Kristin wanted, Dane gave her.”
“What are you saying, Alex? Do you think Dane was rogue?” Nothing but caution rings in Regan’s tone.
