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“Archer Crest. Your sister called me.”
Of course she did.
“You need rings for your wife?” He glances behind me like I’m hiding her.
“We got married in a rush, and I didn’t get a chance to buy rings. I’d like to surprise her.”
“You came to the right place. Follow me.” He leads me to a private viewing room. “Do you know her size by any chance?”
“I don’t. She’s very petite.”
“No problem. I can size it later.” He has black velvet trays already laid out. “Tell me about your wife.”
“She’s a dancer,” I say right away, and when Archer’s eyes widen, I narrow mine. “Ballet.”
“Ah. Graceful?”
“Very.”
“Beautiful.”
“Crazy, beautiful. And modest about it.” I take my phone out and show him photos I collected of her over the years. Seeing so many of them, it hits me how obsessed I really was with her.
“She goes to East Side Performing Arts?” Archer studies the photos of her coming out of school.
“Aye.”
“I’ll call over there for her ring size. They take that info from all students for class rings.” He taps into his phone.
“What do you recommend?”
“My first choice would be a classic round stone with a double halo setting. The thick diamond band is especially beautiful on slender fingers.”
I take it in my hand and imagine it on Katya’s finger. I glance at the others, and it’s a sea of blinding sparkle. I can’t discern one from the other.
Archer Crest. He’s the owner, and I trust he knows his business. Knows what awomanwants as far as jewelry.
“I like this. What can you offer as far as a wedding band?”
“This matching ring with tiny, haloed stones works well.” He reaches for me to hand over the engagement ring and slides them onto a black velvet hand.
They do look stunning together.
“Sold.”
“A ring for you, or…” He eyes the tats on my hands.
“Yeah?”
“Call me crazy. My brothers do, but I’ve hired someone to help men such as yourself who do…” He clears his throat. “Dangerous work and don’t wear wedding rings. A tattoo with her name on that finger sends a stronger message. Upstairs, we have an amazing artist.”
I hadn’t gotten a new tat in a while.
“Sure. I’d like to pick out a few more pieces for my wife first. Earrings. Bracelets. Necklaces. She doesn’t have any of that.” I remember her feeling self-conscious at the gala, only wearing that dull cross around her neck. But she’d told me too late. Not that she needs any of this. She shines all by herself.
I can tell her I love her, but I’d rather show her how much she’s worth to me.
“Have a seat Mr. O’Rourke. I’ll bring in several sets from our top designer.”
