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She glanced at her bare finger. “I accidentally knocked it down the drain while I was getting dressed. You’re just noticing?”
“You what?”
“It’s cheaper to order another one than pay for a plumber.”
“Since when are you worried about cheap?” He spun toward the guests, speaking calmly, but with an underlying tension. “Excuse me for a few minutes. One of my fans is on his deathbed, poor guy. I promised his wife I’d call him tonight.” And just like that, he disappeared.
&nb
sp; She smiled sadly and acted as if deathbed phone calls were all in a day’s work.
Rain began to fall in a gentle spatter that made the candlelit veranda seem even cozier. With all her guests engaged in conversation, Georgie slipped away unnoticed.
She found Bram on his knees, his head stuck under her sink, a plastic bucket and a pipe wrench by his knees. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to rescue your ring,” he said from inside the vanity.
“Why?”
“Because it’s your wedding ring,” he said tightly. “Every woman has a sentimental attachment to her wedding ring.”
“I don’t. You bought mine on eBay for a hundred bucks.”
He pulled his head out. “Who told you that?”
“You did.”
He muttered something, grabbed the monkey wrench, and stuffed his head back inside the vanity.
She was getting a creepy feeling. “You did buy it on eBay, right?”
“Not exactly,” came his muffled reply.
“Then where did you get it?”
“At…this store.”
“What store?”
He poked his head out. “How am I supposed to remember?”
“It was only a month ago!”
“Whatever.” His head disappeared.
“You told me the ring was a fake. It’s a fake, right?”
“Define ‘fake.’” The wrench clanged against a pipe.
“As in, ‘Not genuine.’”
“Oh.”
“Bram?”
Another clang. “It’s not a fake.”
“It’s the real thing?”
