Tiffany& Co. was not cutting it.
Jono wasn’t going to complain about the whiskey they got to drink for free in the private room Sage had coordinated for them to try on wedding rings. But the fancy wedding band sets with their inlaid diamonds and other jewels weren’t his style. Even what passed as plain sets felt a little too modern for his liking with their angular-shaped bands.
Patrick leaned over once the salesperson stepped away to put back the last example in the case. “Want to head home and get Chinese food on the way?”
That sounded far more preferable than looking at more wedding rings. Jono knew they needed a set, but this was the third store they’d been to that morning. While he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed, he was feeling a bit rushed.
“Can do,” Jono said before picking up his glass of whiskey and swallowing the rest of it down. He grabbed his sunglasses from the glass display case and slipped them on. Sage had assured them the salesperson would not feel uncomfortable around werecreatures, and while that was true—she didn’t smell like fear at all—the same couldn’t be said for everyone else in the building or outside.
Patrick handled their goodbyes for them, telling the saleswoman they’d think about what they’d seen before the both of them escaped the very extravagant flagship shop on Fifth Avenue. Jono reached for Patrick’s hand, tangling their fingers together on the walk back to the subway stop. They’d left their cars at home because the idea of searching for parking at Tiffany & Co., Cartier, and Harry Winston was a headache neither of them had wanted to deal with.
“We could just not have rings?” Patrick mused. “We haven’t had any for years.”
“We haven’t been married for years,” Jono pointed out.
“We don’t have a piece of paper that says we are either, but we’ve basically been married if you go by everything else.”
Jono tipped his head in acknowledgment of that, chuckling a little. “True. But if we don’t find some rings, Sage will find them for us.”
“At least her choice would be less gaudy than Wade’s.”
Jono outright laughed at that. Nothing was too extravagant or shiny when it came to jewelry for Wade. He tended not to wear it himself, just hoarded it. The home he shared with Riordan would have been overrun with Wade’s many hoards if the selkie hadn’t put his foot down.
“We’ll find something,” Jono promised. “I don’t need a ring to marry you.”
If it came down to it, they’d say their vows without one.
Patrick flashed him a smile, green eyes hidden behind his own pair of sunglasses. “You know, it’s probably a good thing Sage is handling all this.”
“If it were you, it might not ever get done.”
“Hey! Don’t forget that you said yes.”
“After you took the advice of a bloke holding you hostage.”
Patrick burst out laughing. “You’re going to hold that against me forever, aren’t you?”
“I might,” Jono drawled, just to rub it in. Patrick tugged on his arm, and Jono let himself be moved, turning his head to give Patrick a kiss. “You know, we could go to the courthouse if you like.”
“I’m pretty sure Sage has some of the pack on watch duty to make sure we don’t pass the front door.”
“Vegas is always an option.”
“We’d never make it off Manhattan.”
“Guess you’re stuck with marrying me.”
“A hardship. Really.”
Luckily, Sage’s plan wasn’t going to be impeded by the case Patrick was retained to appear on the stand for. The whole trial against the criminal coven was still going forward in less than a month, despite what had happened. Aaron would be tried separately at a later date, with additional charges for his antics at the SOA headquarters.
They had time for a wedding and a honeymoon if they wanted. So far, the media hadn’t caught wind of any of it. Jono could do without the media ever sticking their noses in his life again.
They headed for the Fifty-Ninth Street subway stop a few blocks east of Tiffany & Co. and took the 6 train downtown to Canal Street station. Patrick took a seat on a bench while Jono opted to stand, holding on to the bar above and swaying with the motion of the train car as it rolled down the tracks. Glimmers of the protective wards lining the subway walls beyond flickered at the corners of his eyes from time to time.
“Wade says he wants us to bring him some fried rice,” Patrick said, staring down at his mobile.
“Tell Wade he can feed himself. I’m not traipsing uptown to his flat.”
