Page 120 of Love Arranged

“Don’t do this for me.”

“I’m not.” I’m doing this for me, the person whose mental health will benefit from her no longer crying.

And who knows? Maybe I’ll grow to enjoy Daisy’s company in my big, empty house.

Lily and I meet up with Julian and Dahlia for brunch before we split up again, this time the girls going off on their own. I’d rather hang out by myself than spend the afternoon with Julian Lopez of all people, but he won’t leave my side.

“You good?” I ask when he pauses at the entrance of the first jewelry store on my list.

He looks around the sales floor, his face turning progressively paler. “Please tell me you’re looking at buying Lily some diamond earrings.”

“Has she mentioned wanting some to you?”

“Yes. It’s a running joke by now.”

“Then I’ll add them to my list.”

“You have alist?” He looks yearningly at a nearby trash can.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. An enthusiastic employee introduces herself, and after I tell her what I’m looking for, she is all too happy to show me their engagement ring options.

Julian looks ready to pass out, so I ask if someone can bring him a chair.

“This better be a fucking prank.” He must not trust his legs either because he happily takes a seat.

I ignore him and focus on the dazzling rings.

“Lorenzo.”

“Julian.”

“This is all moving way, way too fast. Maybe you need to slow down?—”

“The only opinion I’m interested in is which ring you think Lily would like most.”

He checks out all the rings before shaking his head. “None of them.”

I frown. “There has to be something here she’d like. This is the best store in all of Chicago.”

He stares at the display full of the whitest, clearest diamonds money can buy. “It’s not the store. It’s thecolor.”

The employee pauses. “Would she prefer something like an emerald or sapphire?”

Julian glances up at me. “If he can’t answer that question, then he shouldn’t be proposing.”

Did I get outsmarted at my own game by Julian motherfucking Lopez?

No. I refuse.

Think, Lorenzo, I tell myself, refusing to fail Julian’s test. He gave me a clue at least, so if a traditional diamond isn’t what Lily wants, then there must be another color.

I can’t see her wanting a sapphire—that much I know—while an emerald is trickier. She likes green, given the color of flower stems, so I mention it to the jeweler.

“We could do a peekaboo emerald in the band,” she mentions, and I shake my head and think about the main diamond.

Pink is my favorite neutral, she wrote on her dating profile, and I want to smack my own forehead at ever questioning my abilities to guess what Lily would like.

“What kind of gemstones come in pink?”