“Please talk to him,” Isla cries, looking at me as June starts to close the door. “My mom is worried about him. She just wants to make sure he’s okay.”
“I’ll tell him to call her,” I agree quietly as June shuts the door in her stunned face.
“God, I hate her,” June hisses, getting up on her tiptoes to look through the peephole.
“Me too.” Dropping my eyes to my hand, I look at my wedding ring. Shaking my head, I close my eyes.
“You okay?”
“No.” I sigh, feeling her hand on my shoulder. “I need a drink,” I murmur as I head for the kitchen.
“Can you drink right now?”
“Unfortunately, no.” I really wish I could have a glass of wine, but I can’t.
“Do you want to talk about what you’re thinking?” she asks, taking a seat on one of the stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I pass it to her, pick up mine I left earlier, and take a gulp before dropping my eyes to the marble whispering, “He has his mom’s wedding ring.”
Looking up at my cousin, I wonder what it means that he didn’t give it to me. I know I shouldn’t be thinking it, but I can’t understand why I’m wearing a band from a wedding chapel, while he has his mom’s wedding ring. A ring I know means something to him. A ring I didn’t know about until now. A ring he has talked to the she-bitch about, even though he obviously didn’t give it to her either.
“You have him. Don’t let that crazy bitch get to you or get into your head.”
“I’m not,” I lie shakily. I don’t know why this is bothering me so much, but it feels like I just got to the top of the roller coaster and found out there are no more tracks for my ride down.
“Get that look off your face right now,” she snaps, and my eyes focus on hers. “Dillon is in love with you.” She points at me. “You don’t know his reasoning for not giving you his mom’s ring, or if there is even a ring to be given. For all you know, he could have lost it years ago, or he could be waiting until the right moment to slide it on your finger.” Her eyes soften and I hold my breath. “In the end, it’s just a piece of metal that means nothing. Marriage isn’t based on the size of the rock on your finger. It’s based on what you feel for the person you are sharing your life with.”
Feeling properly scolded, I set my water bottle down and rub my forehead. She’s right. One minute with Isla has me questioning everything and doubting Dillon’s feelings for me. “I’m an idiot.”
“You are not an idiot. You’re in love. Love makes you feel vulnerable and unsure, and it also makes you doubt and question everything. It’s normal to feel like you feel right now.” She waves me off as I take a seat next to her.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here,” I mutter, and she grins, bumping my shoulder.
“My guess is you would have probably run away.”
“Probably.” I laugh, knowing she’s right. I don’t like questioning his feelings for me, and I don’t like the feeling of jealousy and envy I get every time I think about his relationship with Isla, or the fact she probably knows more about him than I do.
“You, my beautiful cousin, have a lot to learn about love and relationships. Dillon is the first guy you’ve ever been serious about. This is all new to you and—”
“I’ve dated,” I cut her off, and she raises a brow. “Okay, fine, I’ve skimmed through a selection of men.” I sigh, and she laughs.
“The point is you will figure it all out. Just don’t overthink things, and always talk to him if you have doubts about anything.” She nudges my shoulder then takes a sip of water before moving her eyes over my face, letting them linger on the bruise at my temple. “How are you feeling?”
“Thankfully, better. I go back to work Monday, and get my stitches out in ten days,” I reply as I absently rub my fingers over the side of my head where my stitches are.
“Have the police said if they caught the person or gotten any leads?”
“They still don’t know. No one saw a license plate, only the make of the car. Even with the story being in the news the last few days, they still haven’t gotten anything.”
“It’s scary that something like that can happen in the middle of the day and no one knows anything.”
“I know. I just…” I pause, taking a breath. “I don’t even want to think about it any more. Every time I think about it, I start to panic,” I admit, which is something I haven’t told anyone until now, but it’s true. There is a constant fear in my stomach. Even today, when I went to the hospital with my mom, I was scared to death about having to walk through the parking lot.