Page 19

He goes into a back office and I look around the dimly lit shop. I pass rows of cases, making my way up to the front of the store and I’m surprised to find Camila standing outside my car talking with Wills through the driver’s window. Her hair flows softly down her back and she's wearing jeans with a flannel button-up wrapped around her waist and a tank top that hugs her body like it's painted on. My eyes scan every inch of her. I’ve come to the conclusion that Camila could wear a paper bag and I would still be attracted to her.

When I came home last night and found her curled up on the couch—hair up in a messy bun and her oversized t-shirt covering her tiny shorts, giving the illusion that she wasn't wearing anything under it—I completely forgot about asking her to come with me to the jeweler today.

She's still talking to Wills as if we don't have an appointment to get to, so I stalk over to the front door and push it open a little harder than necessary. She smiles and waves to Wills. My eyes narrow on her, “What?” she asks.

“You're late.”

“I was here at 3:30, the door was locked.” She throws a pointed stare at me. Making me feel like a fucking idiot because she’s right, the doorwaslocked. I called the shop yesterday and paid extra for a private appointment. I told myself it was to be cautious. In the event that we run into anyone who thinks she should have already had this ring and that's what I’ll tell Camila if she asks. But really I think it's just that I don't want to be bothered by other people when I’m with her. “Plus, Wills and I were in the middle of an interesting conversation.” I’m not jealous that she’s having conversations with my driver but I’m sure as fuck annoyed. I hold the door open for her as she walks in and I brush her comment off as if I wasn't aware.

The sales manager is still in the back, so we walk around the store peering in all the cases on the floor.

“So…how was your day?” she tilts her head, batting her eyelashes at me with faux sweetness. I can tell she's annoyed with my shortness and no doubt the pissed off face I’ve been wearing all day isn't very appealing either. I shake off the swarming thoughts and try to regroup.

“I’d bore you to tears if I told you. Plus, I’d rather hear about your day.”

She scoffs, waving a hand. “My day was filled with looking at a lot of really awful job search websites.”

“No luck on the hunt then?”

“I hated everything.”

“Maybe you're not looking at the right places.”

A sad sound escapes her lips, “Yeah, maybe.”

I feel my eyebrows draw together as concern crosses my mind. Concern that she isn't happy and concerned with the feeling in my chest of wanting to erase the sad look on her face.

“Ah,Mrs. Cameron. Welcome. I’ve pulled quite the assortment for you, today. I hope you will both be very pleased.” The sales attendant lays out a black box filled with silver and gold bands and diamonds of every shape and size. “Do you know if you prefer gold or silver?” he asks.

“Gold. I don’t have the skin tone for silver.”

“I can’t imagine you look bad in anything.” When her head snaps to me I realize I’ve said that out loud.

“Wonderful, well let's try some of these then, and we’ll go from there.”

Camila picks up one of the smaller oval cut diamonds on a thin gold band with two small round diamonds on either side of the center stone. She gasps. “This is insane.”

I’m confused. “You don't like it?”

“It’s stunning, but it’s so big.”

“Is this two carats?” I ask the man. He nods with a smile. “It’s only two carats, Camila.”

“What do you meanonly?”

I hold up a four carat emerald cut on a diamond-encrusted band.

Her nose scrunches up and she shakes her head, “If I just won the Superbowl, that would definitely be the one for me.”

The salesman rolls his lips between his teeth, trying to hide his smile.

“Okay. I wasn't aware I bought a ticket to your comedy show today,” I say, setting the ring back down.

Her melodic laugh eases any tension that was in the room before.

“So you like this one?” I wrap my fingers around her small hand holding the first ring. She purses her lips as she thinks. “It’s a far cry from youramethyst,”I whisper in her ear.

“It's for my anxiety!” She playfully shoves her shoulder into me.