“I don’t think that’s right either,” I shake my head handing it back and realize I haven’t put any thought into this.
I feel like an idiot, but the girl is patient.
“Maybe if you tell me a little about this woman, I can help you find the right ring,” she smiles.
Tell her about Amanda. It would be easier to describe a sunset to someone who’d never looked at the sky before.
“She’s bright. Not just smart, though she is definitely smart. But in a sunny sort of way. She’s beautiful and doesn’t know it. Colorful and tries to hide it. Cute. Caring. Very selfless. And passionate. Musical and poetic and–”
“I have just the thing.”
The woman walks to another case, and it isn’t until I am standing there alone that I realize my heart is like a jackhammer. It’s not that I’ve never thought of her that way. All I do is think about Amanda. But I’d be lying if I said I’ve ever spoken the words out loud. Even to Noah.
While she’s gone, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and part of me is disappointed that it’s not her. The rest of me is super disappointed that it’s Avery.
Avery: You keeping up with the times, brother?
I’m already annoyed. I should ignore it. But Avery is a squeaky wheel when he’s ignored and if I don’t text him back, he’ll call.
Callum: I do my best not to.
Avery: Social media is a shitshow right now.
Jesus fucking Christ. We may be twins but Avery and I are very, very different people.
Callum: As usual. Again, I keep my nose to the ground.
Avery: Well, you might want to look up for five seconds because the star of that shitshow right now is you, brother.
Callum: Again, I don’t care. What people are saying about me is none of my business or concern.
Avery: What about what people say about Amanda…
That hits a nerve hard and I’m sure he knows it. My jaw tightens and I hover my thumb over the screen debating just how hard to yank his chain. But before I can respond, the woman appears again.
“I apologize for leaving you stranded. This one we keep tucked away. It’s rare. Very rare. Honestly we have been saving it for the right customer. But I think that just might be you.”
“Listen, I think I’m going to have to come back another day. Something came up and–”
My words freeze in my mouth when she pops the box open and slides it towards me.
“What is that?” I ask.
“That is 14 karat gold, with a halo of ethically sourced diamonds surrounding an emerald cut sapphire.”
“Jesus it’s perfect.”
She smiles. “I had a feeling it would be.”
I shove my phone back in the pocket of my slacks for the time being and follow the girl to the register. Sapphires aren’t cheap. But considering I am trying to make up for a Vegas wedding that supplied us with gumball machine esque rings, I have a serious statement to make. And that statement is this:
I want Amanda. All day. Every day. Forever and ever.
I wait until I am back in the car to pull my phone out again. I avoid the text stream with Avery a little while longer and take a screen shot of the ring, sending it to Noah. It’s then that I realize, in the hum of my car, I am smiling. It’s a smirk. A slightly cocky smirk. But a cocky smirk is still a smile.
I know it’s not traditional. It’s not Hardin in most ways. Hardin men buy the flashiest, bulkiest rings they can find. Hardin women, married in, can be seen from a mile away by the meteor on their hand alone.
But that’s not Amanda. Amanda isn’t the sun. She’s the moon in all its deep, dark glory. And this ring is perfect.
