Janie: STOP IT.
I start to put my phone down but it buzzes again. Bossman has attached a shot he took at the restaurant the other night, which I’m guessing he didn’t send with the others because it’s blurry. It’s clear enough to see that I’m rolling my eyes and he’s smiling ear to ear.
Like I said at the time,believable.
Can I really spend a year with him?
He’s not as unbearable as I thought. It still irks me how easy going he is. Or maybe,how easy his going has beenall his life. Which, I can begrudgingly admit, is not his fault. He didn’t choose being born into quasi-royalty just like I didn’t choose my unhinged mother, dirt-poor paternal family, or calling the world’s cheesiest, tiny, holiday townhome.
He’s considerate. Refreshingly genuine and self-aware.
And he does make me laugh.
And, you know, THE MONEY, JANIE. This is for MONEY.
Ugh. I’m going to hell.
In a gold-plated hand basket.
Okay. Time to disassociate.
I pick up the TV remote.
_____
“Benedict, no.”
“Janelle, yes.”
“Stop calling me that!” I whisper-shout.
“Then pick one!” He mimics me.
I look around the luxurious jewelry store. It’s small and dimly lit and completely empty. Still, I keep my voice low because the staff is hovering.
“Couldn’t we just get a normal ring?”
Benedict frowns, “These aren’t normal?”
“These probably cost the price of a small house!”
“I wouldn’t know I only own giant hou—”
I grab his arm, “Would you stop joking for one second? Isn’t there a Kay Jewelers or something in Vegas? You know? 'Every kiss begins with kay?'”
“Is this a riddle?”
“Ugh! A national chain store in malls and shopping strips where, like, everyday people go to buy wedding rings?” I don’t miss the clerk behind the counter choking in disgust. I also don’t miss how Benedict’s firm bicep flexes under my fingers.
“Darling, you are not marrying everyday people.” I start to roll my eyes but he grabs my elbow and leans in. His voice vibrates the shell of my ear. “This has to be believable, remember? This is the only shop I trust in this city.”
I scratch my ear and blink away the realizations that he’s right and that he’s been in this store to buy jewelry before. Probably many times. That gives me the ick for some reason.
“Are you a regular here?” slips out of me, sounding weird.
His mouth twitches but he doesn’t fully smile, “I appreciate beauty and I appreciate good craftsmanship. Renaldo is one of the best. I’ve bought cuff links for a bachelor party, a last minute gift for my mother and more than one watchfor myself.”
I shake my head. We’ve gotten off course here. Who cares what he’s bought for whom? Not me.
