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This conversation is clearly over, and I refuse to push it any further. Lennon’s under enough stress, and the last thing she needs is more drama, so I drop it. As we continue toward our gate, with the carry-on suitcase in tow, I look over and see a jewelry store and stop. Lennon notices and turns and looks at me.
“We forgot something,” I tell her, my heart pounding as the realization hits me.
“What? Is it important? Is it something we can buy in Utah?” she asks, perplexed at my reaction.
I nod at the jewelry store in front of us. “Wedding rings.”
Her mouth falls open. “Shit. I thought of everything but that.” Lennon shakes her head and inhales a deep breath. “Well, I’m blaming pregnancy brain. What’s your excuse, hubby?”
I give her a small smile and laugh at the change in her tone. Shrugging, I say, “Guess we need to go shopping then.”
“Do you think they have cubic zirconia? I don’t need anything fancy, just something presentable.”
“Hmm. Not sure. Let’s go look, though, because we can’t show up ringless if we want to pull this off.”
Lennon nods, then follows me into a store with a sizable selection of jewelry—rings, earrings, bracelets, and necklaces. Glancing around the spacious room, especially for being in an airport, I know we don’t have a lot of time before we have to board, so I quickly scan the display cases. The diamonds sparkle against the light, and I overhear Lennon ask for the location of the clearance rings. As one jeweler walks her across to a small case in the corner, I spot the one she’s meant to have. Another woman comes to help me, removes it, and allows me to study it. A few minutes pass before Lennon notices and comes over.
“That’s too much, Hunter,” she tells me in a hushed tone. I search her face and shake my head as the woman hands me the other band that goes with the set. Lennon’s mouth practically hits the floor when I hand it to her with agrin.
“It’s meant for you, though. You like a princess cut, right?” I shoot her a wink, then immediately want to kick my own ass for my slipup.
Lennon furrows her brows and tilts her head at me. Blood rushes from my face, but I somehow keep my composure.
“How’d you know?” she asks with a curious smile.
There’s no way I could tell her the truth. I think about the ring tucked inside my nightstand that she doesn’t know is hers, the one I have to keep secret. It’s official, I’m a fucking idiot.
I quickly shrug, looking back at the sparkling diamond. “Lucky guess, I suppose. Don’t all girls like the princess cut?” I hurry and shoot her a smirk, trying to cover my stupid misstep.
The woman behind the counter lets out a fake laugh because I’m sure she wants the sale. “You’re so right,” she says. “It’s a beautiful set, though. Two carats total.”
Lennon glances at her, then back at me. “It’s too much, Hunter. I can’t ask you to do this. It’s way too expensive.”
I grin. “If I’m going to impress my in-laws, I need to buy you the ring you deserve. Plus, you didn’t ask me. I’m insisting.”
She stubbornly shakes her head, and I understand her resistance, considering we’re pretending, but I have the money for it. I’ve been saving since my first real check, and if I’m being honest with myself, I want to make her happy, even if only temporarily.
I grab Lennon’s left hand and slide the set onto her finger. It fits like it’s meant to be, and her breath hitches as she looks down at it. When her eyes finally meet mine, I see fire behind them as if her thoughts are going wild.
The jeweler interrupts our moment, beaming with anticipation. “So is this the one?”
Lennon glances back down at the diamonds gleaming under the lights. “Are you sure about this, Hunter?” She circles it around her finger with her other hand, and it feels right, so I don’t hesitate.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything, Lennon. This has to be done. I want your parents to know I can take care of you,” I tell her confidently, though there’s nothing pretend about my words.
The woman happily leads us to the register after taking the rings from Lennon to clean them. Lennon reaches for me and grabs my arm.
“You need a ring too,” she reminds me.
After quickly sizing my finger, a salesperson gives me a few choices, and Lennon picks out a white gold band. By the time we have what we need, and thousands of dollars later, I see the apprehension written on Lennon’s face. After I pay, we slip our rings on and walk out of the store wearing them.
“Hunter…” Her voice is soft. “What are you going to do with these rings after this is over? I feel so damn guilty right now.”
