A yellow gold band with a center diamond surrounded by smaller stones clustered around it like a flower, the setting delicate and feminine but still substantial enough to catch the light. The metalwork is intricate, tiny details that reveal themselves the longer you look. It’s exactly what Emma would choose,exactly what she’d want, romantic and full of history and unlike anything else.
“This one,” I say, picking it up carefully. The weight of it feels heavier than it should be for something so small. Like my whole future is in this ring.
“Beautiful choice,” the woman says warmly. “It’s from the 1920s, European cut diamond, original setting. Remarkably well-preserved.” She checks something on her computer, her fingers moving across the keyboard.
I hold the ring up to the light, watching the diamond catch and scatter it into tiny rainbows across my palm. Emma is going to love this. She’s going to cry when she sees it, probably, the way she cries at sad movies and surprise endings and moments of unexpected kindness. She’s going to say yes. She has to say yes, because the alternative isn’t something I’m willing to consider.
“I’ll take it,” I say.
The woman’s smile widens. “Wonderful. It’s twelve thousand dollars. Will that be alright?”
I don’t even hesitate. “That’s no problem at all.”
She nods and takes the ring from me gently, disappearing to find a box for it while I pull out my credit card. Twelve thousand dollars for a ring. Two months ago that would have seemed insane to me, an extravagance I couldn’t justify no matter how much I loved someone. But standing here now, thinking about the look on Emma’s face when she opens that box, it feels like the bargain of a lifetime.
The woman returns with the ring nestled in a green velvet box and she wraps it carefully in tissue paper before sliding it into a small bag with the store’s logo embossed in gold. I sign the receipt and thank her, and she wishes me luck with a smile that says she’s seen a thousand nervous men stand where I’m standing, about to take the biggest leap of their lives.
Outside, the afternoon sun is bright and the air is crisp. I take the ring box out of the bag as soon as the door closesbehind me and slip it into my jacket pocket, feeling the weight of it against my chest like a second heartbeat.
My car is parked down the block, and I walk toward it with determination settling into my bones. Emma asked for space to think and I gave her that, two weeks of it, the longest two weeks of my life. And I’m done waiting. I’m done letting her convince herself she’s not right for us.
I get in my car and sit there for a moment with my hands on the steering wheel. Through the windshield I can see the water in the distance, gray-blue and restless, the same water I’ve looked at my whole life. Everything is about to change. I start the engine and pull out of the parking spot, heading toward Emma’s apartment.
Emma
The KidStream documents are spread across my kitchen table, financial reports and content proposals and organizational charts that blur together the longer I stare at them.
I ended up staying in Seattle an extra night to spend more time with my sisters, not just going over business strategy but actually catching up on each other’s lives for the first time in years. We ordered takeout and sat on Sophie’s living room floor and talked until two in the morning about everything and nothing, about Mom and Dad and childhood memories and the futures we’re all trying to build. It was so good. The kind of sisterly closeness I didn’t realize I’d been missing until I had it back.
On the drive home my mind kept drifting to the educational initiatives we discussed, the plans to restore what our parents originally created. I won’t be there in Seattle running things day to day, but I can still have an impact from here.
I can help shape curriculum, review content, make sure theprogramming actually helps kids learn instead of just hooking them on dopamine hits. The thought fills me with a sense of purpose I haven’t felt about the family business in years.
But at this moment, I’m mostly staring at these papers to distract myself from what I actually need to do. I press my hand against my stomach, still flat but hiding a secret that changes everything.
“What do you think, little bean?” I whisper, the nickname slipping out naturally. A surge of love washes through me, fierce and overwhelming, for this tiny life I didn’t plan but already can’t imagine not wanting.
I got home this morning and I’ve been debating ever since how to reach out to Theo. What do I even say?Hey, so about that space I asked for—in my time to think I’ve realized that I made a terrible mistake and also by the way I’m pregnant with your baby.I let out a groan and drop my head into my hands.
How on earth do I tell him? And god forbid he actually tells me he doesn’t want to be together anymore. That during these two weeks of space he realized I was right to walk away, that it’s too complicated with Victoria and Chloe, that he’s better off without me making everything messier than it needs to be. The thought makes my stomach turn over in a way that has nothing to do with morning sickness.
I pick up my phone for the hundredth time, Theo’s contact pulled up on the screen. Just text him. Ask if he can come over. Tell him everything. My thumbs hover over the keyboard.Can we talk? I need to tell you something.
Before I can hit send, there’s a knock at my door. I freeze, my heart stuttering. I’m not expecting anyone. Sophie’s still in Seattle, and the only person who ever just shows up unannounced is?—
I cross to the door on unsteady legs and look through the peephole.
Theo.
He’s standing in my hallway looking determined andnervous and so unbearably handsome. My hand shakes as I undo the lock and pull the door open. He’s here. He’s actually here. And the look on his face when he sees me, the way his expression softens and his eyes drink me in like he’s been starving for the sight of me, makes me want to throw myself into his arms right then and there.
“I need to talk to you,” he says. “Can I come in?”
I step back wordlessly, not trusting my voice, and he walks past me into the apartment. I’ve missed him so desperately it’s been like a physical ache, and now he’s here right in front of me, looking as gorgeous as ever. The door clicks shut behind us and we’re standing in my small living room, close enough to touch, but not touching.
“I know you wanted space,” he starts, and his brown eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “I know you asked for time to think about what’s best for Chloe. And I gave you that. But I can’t do it anymore, Emma. I can’t sit around waiting while you convince yourself you’re not enough when you’re everything.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he keeps going, the words tumbling out.
