“I don’t know a lot about this, but doesn’t that take the fun out of it?” I ask. “Aren’t you supposed to be surprised and cry and all that gooey shit?”
“Nate, I can play the hell out of acting surprised.” She steps away from the computer and then jumps up in the air with her hands on her face. “Oh, my gosh! You didn’t! This is the best day of my life!” Then she drops her hands and smoothens her features. “See? Easy.”
“You know, it’s scary how well you just did that,” I say.
But I don’t think she hears me. She’s focused on Shaye.
“Okay, I love this,” Shaye says. Amethyst with rose gold is so gorgeous. But if you want something different …”
Another set of rings pops up on the screen. Shaye clicks around again and brings up a diamond with a blue and white band.
“Oh, I love that too,” Kira gushes. “What is it?”
“A sapphire and diamond band with white gold. But the ring head under the diamond stone is rose gold.” Shaye points at the screen. “It just has so much dimension.”
I bury my head in my hands.
“You could go with a ruby,” Shaye says.
“I don’t like rubies. I think they look weird on my hand. My grandmother had a ruby ring that my aunt ended up with—long story, and I remember trying it on once, and it makes me look too yellow or something,” Kira says.
I lift my head. “I love all the girl talk, but can you do it somewhere else?”
“What do you think?” Shaye asks me. “Amethyst, sapphire, or ruby?”
“I think I don’t care.”
“Pick.”
“She should get whatever makes her happy or,” I say, looking at Kira, “whatever your boyfriend gets you.”
She puts a hand on her hip. “Think about it. He’s going to spend thousands of dollars on a ring that I’m going to wear for the rest of my life. I’m going to give this ring to my daughter someday, hopefully. Isn’t it smarter to make sure I like it before buying it?”
“I don’t know. What are you going to say—I hate it?”
“He wants me to be happy, Nate.”
“Cool. Be happy. Go to the kitchen, pick a ring, text it to him, and then finish washing the bar glasses for tonight. Please.”
“Fine. But we’re here when you want to talk rings.” Shaye winks at me. “You can call me anytime, and I’ll help. I’ll even go shopping with you.”
My stomach flip-flops. “Off you go.”
Shaye makes a mean face—or what I think she wants to be a mean face—and they walk out.
I wave as they shut the door.
The room seems quiet without the racket of the two of them. I turn back to my desk and see the rings on the screen.
I sit back in my chair and look at the sapphire. I wonder what kind of ring Paige would want?
I make a fist and then cover it with my other hand. Then I bring them to my lips.
I’m aware of how I feel—I’d marry her tomorrow. There isn’t a scenario in my life that I can imagine without her. That I want to imagine without her.
Greeting her when I come home from work.
Grocery shopping for dinner.
Parent-teacher conferences.
Buying a house to fit a growing family.
Having a child.
Sitting in matching recliners with the television up entirely too loud and yelling at each other over top of it.
Everything from the mundane to the exciting is better with Paige Carmichael. Paige Hughes, if I have my way.
I stand and mosey around my office, looking for a distraction.
We have to go slow. Tap the brakes just a bit and let her get acclimated to coupling and living together before I push any farther.
“I don’t know if I believe in forever.” Her words from before sweep through my brain.
“I really think that you don’t know if you deserve forever,” I say to the empty room. “But I will show you that you do. No matter how long it takes.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
PAIGE
“Hey!” I wave at Murray as I walk into The Gold Room. “Is Nate still here?”
“Not sure. Just got here.”
Great. “Thanks, Murray.”
I pace across the floor, wishing I had driven around back to see if his truck is parked next to the dumpster.
I don’t know why, but I need to see him. I need his arms around me and to breathe in the scent of his cologne.
Marcie’s stupid words come back to me, pummeling my brain over and over without pause. I ducked out of lunch early, needing a reprieve, and came straight for The Gold Room.
Her words might be true to her, but they don’t apply to me. They’re not. I feel it in my heart. All the sweatiness and anxiety since she went on her ridiculous monologue is simply from the salt on the chips.
That I didn’t eat.
I knock on his door and then push it open, not waiting on him to answer. The office is empty. I turn to leave when something catches my eye.