Page 131 of Sterling Fight

“Genie?” My throat catches and her name is more of a low croak than an actual call. As I stare down at the ring, my heart hammering in my chest, I can’t move. Like my limbs are frozen in place. For a moment, I wonder if I’m having a heart attack.

“Genie,” I squeak again, my voice rough.

“What’s the matter, baby?” She eventually finds me stone-still staring at the island. She’d set up her new office in our dining room, loving the natural light and the large table as a desk for now.

“Did you . . .” I can’t find the words. My throat is dry. My eyes are stuck on the thin gold band with an amethyst stone and two small diamonds. “Did . . .”

I swallow thickly still unable to form sentences.

Genie must follow my line of sight because she eventually gasps. “Oh my God. Is that—” She rushes to the edge of the counter, hovering her hand over the ring but then pulling back like it might not be appropriate to touch something so precious.

“Judd,” she chokes out. “Where did you find it?”

Slowly, her head turns, glancing at me over her shoulder but I still can’t move. Still can’t force myself to step closer. To touch it.

“I . . . I didn’t.” I blink, lick my lips and then pull my gaze from the ring to lock onto Genie’s eyes. “I was in the library. And then I was crossing the room to the dining room.” I glance to my left as if I can see myself leaving the library and walking toward the dining room before doing a double take when something shiny caught my eye.

“I—” I’m still at a loss for words. How? Where? Why?

Since losing my mother’s ring, and Genie giving me a new ring of my own, I’ve had one designed for her as well. With a silver band to match mine, Genie’s ring has a square cut amethyst in a slightly darker shade than my mother’s ring, plus a ring of diamonds around it.

“Do you think—” I swallow again. “Do you think it’s a sign? From my mom?” I close my eyes suddenly feeling childish for the thought, and like a child, hopeful and innocent in asking.

“What do you think?” Genie asks. Her voice low, concerned but full of patience and love. “What do you want it to mean?”

I open my eyes and look directly at Genie. “I want it to mean she’s happy with me.” My choice in Genie. What I’d done to get the ring and how long I’ve kept it, waiting until I could give it to the girl I thought deserved it.

Losing it wasn’t a curse or an omen. Losing it was a sign to finally let go of my past and race toward the future. Chase Genie, like Trudy once said I should have done.

“But why would it reappear now?” I can’t even ask the questions of where has it been, or how did it get on the counter, in broad daylight on a random Tuesday morning.

“Maybe your mother is sending you a sign. That she is happy. She’s resting in peace.”

It never occurred to me that my mother might be restless in her afterlife. Watching what her husband did to her children, if she could. Sensing our loss in both her and him, and then ourselves along the way.

We each had our vice or our shield or our wall preventing us from giving love a chance.

Maybe that’s my sign. My chance is now. My battle is no longer against myself but with my person.

Weathering the storm with Genie at my side. She’s my good luck charm.

“I think.” I pause. “I think, maybe it’s time to just save the ring in a safe place.” Not beneath my clothing on a chain or on Genie’s finger in the open but some place special.

Maybe with that lucky penny I’d given Genie, and she made her wish on.

Genie looks a bit nervous as she watches me a moment, gauging with those dark eyes with flecks of light how stable I am with the idea of storing such a precious ring.

“I like the idea of saving it. For the future.” Her hand covers her lower belly, flattening against it. “Maybe one day, we can give it to someone else who is special to us.”

I stare at her a moment, not comprehending her meaning.

“We could give it to our little girl. Or our boy. Whatever.” Genie shrugs and drops her gaze, chewing at her lower lip.

“Our . . . what . . . or . . . what?” I’m a stammering fool suddenly.

Genie’s face turns light pink. “We’ve been going at it like fireflies.” She giggles anxiously at her own joke. Genie decided to stop taking the pill weeks after moving in with me, and she isn’t wrong. We have sex a lot, although I am not complaining.

“Are you saying . . . Genie, are you pregnant?”