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Some of the worry in her features recedes.
"Doesn’t mean I’m not going to hunt him down and teach him a lesson."
She searches my features. "I shouldn’t find that so hot. I should be worried about how you seem to have no qualms about doing something that is on the grey side of the law, and yet—"
"And yet?"
"And yet—" she looks away, then back at me, "I find that such a turn on."
"Rick Mitchell," a voice rings out. I swing my head to the side to find the traffic has come to a standstill. A man jumps out of his car and points his phone in our direction.
"Shit—" I turn my back on him and plant my body between her and the traffic. "Let’s get out of here."
* * *
"You promised me an exclusive, but it’s not one anymore." The journalist we’re meeting for lunch at James Hamilton’s restaurant holds up her phone.
On the screen is a blurry image shot through the glass of a car of a man and a woman caught in the middle of making out. Their features are a little blurry, but there’s no mistaking the distinctive curve of her shoulder, nor the jut of my chin, or the anger in my eyes. It’s clear it’s the two of us.
After we were caught out by the road, I hustled Goldie back to the car and got out of there as fast as I could. We reached the restaurant with enough time for her to freshen up, by which time the story was already out in the media. I knew the journalist would publish the picture, but I didn’t think he’d do it so quickly. Goldie warned me. News, nowadays, is instantaneous, but I didn't think interest in my personal life would be this extreme.
"You’re the first to know we’re engaged," Goldie interjects in a smooth voice.
"Engaged?" The journalist glances down at her left hand. "I don’t see a—"
"Now you do." I slide the ring out of my pocket, then take Gio’s left hand in mine and slide it onto her ring finger.
"Oh my god," Goldie gasps.
The journalist inhales a sharp breath. "Is it okay if I take a picture?"
Gio nods. "If you’re okay with it," she chokes out, looking in my direction.
"I’m okay if you’re okay," I murmur.
"And I assume I can record this interview?" the journalist asks.
Gio’s staring down at the gold eternity band that wraps around her left ring finger. She manages to nod; so do I. She moves her fingers this way and that, and the light bounces off of the tiny diamonds set amid the swirling design.
"It’s"—she clears her throat—"it looks like an antique."
"It belonged to my grandmother, then my mother.”
"Oh, Rick." She looks up at me and a single tear squeezes out from the corner of her eye.
I raise my hand and swipe it away with my thumb. "Didn’t mean to make you sad."
"I’m not," she declares.
"You’re crying."
She sniffs, then inhales deeply. "I’m surprised is all."
"I know we said we’d pick out your ring together, but I wanted to surprise you—" I raise a shoulder.
"You did, in a good way. I wasn’t expecting this."
I look between her eyes. "Neither was I."
