Chapter 7Olivia
Olivia
One Month Later
Sunday brunch was tossed aside when this wild idea popped into my mind last night. Well, a crazy idea to some. But to me? Lauren would say it’s just standard practice.
I swing the glass door open to enter the vestibule of Rico’s Jewelry. My fingers curl around the smart lock of the second entry door, and a low rumble hums against my hand.
Once the muted buzzer sounds off, I walk inside. I’m welcomed by a middle-aged man behind the display case that spans the width of the store, and I’m assuming he’s Rico.
“Hi,” I greet with a smile.
My legs carry me forward as my palms bunch the hem of my oversized flannel. Nerves dance in my stomach as if my plan is stapled to my forehead, and I briefly look around.
I brush my curtain bangs aside under my knit beanie, sighing before returning my attention to Rico. “I was wondering if I can have a ring duplicated.”
Rico nods eagerly, his excitement instantly boldening the wrinkles around his eyes. “Yes, of course we can do that. Do you have the ring with you?”
My face beams, eyes plunging downward to the belt bag strapped across my chest. I dig my hand inside, plucking out the plastic bag I made sure to bring here. “Here you go.”
Rico accepts the ring, and my throat rolls as he pops the bag open to inspect the metal wings.
Be cool, Liv.
His thick, tan fingers examine the jewelry like he just knows .
He’s fondling it between his digits, his peppered mustache scarcely tucking into his cautious smile.
“You’re looking at about two hundred dollars.
Stainless steel is a lot cheaper than gold, which would be five hundred dollars to replicate.
This is better for you,” he explains, his voice charming in that Italian charisma.
Phew.
“And if I want an engraving?” I ask.
“Eighty dollars more. So, two-hundred-eighty total.”
A grin stretches across my lips, my finger vaguely poking out toward him. “Great, but there is one more thing I’d like to ask.”
His thick brow arches in sincere curiosity. “Go ahead.”
Just spit it out.
Words falter as they travel up my throat, and my attention whips to the right to rest on a makeup mirror atop the glass case. The tips of my fingers greet my chin now, aimlessly tracing the skin there. “I’m also going to need a silver anklet chain.”
“Of course. No problem,” he answers. “Starting price is about fifty dollars. It depends on how simple or intricate the chain is. Would you like to see some options?”
My eyes catch his chocolate ones, a grin of relief sewn on my face. “Sure.”
I trail alongside the glass to the corner of the display case, eventually choosing a bobble chain. For the past couple weeks, I spent quite some time planning how I wanted to return this ring to its rightful owner without sacrificing his presence around me.
Replicating the jewelry was always my initial thought, but I was underwhelmed with the idea of tucking it away in my nightstand drawer.
I’d already been doing that with the original, so what would be the big deal?
If I was going to commit to a plan of action, I promised myself it had to be well thought out.
This way, I can feel safe wherever I desire to go.
I also bounced around the idea of wearing the metal on a necklace chain, but I wasn’t fond of the fact that I would have to answer a lot of questions. The amount of repeated bulged eyes and creased brows wouldn’t be worth it to me.
Judgment be damned, I’ve never felt more content with a decision in my life.
Cade
I growl lowly as I slide behind Jenna, my palms wrapping around her slender waist. I massage mildly as she fastens the diamond stud earring, our eyes linking through the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.
“You look awfully pretty going to work,” I purr, my fingers briefly tugging the soft curls of her ponytail.
She smirks, dropping her hands to cover mine at her sides. “Are you saying I don’t look pretty normally?”
“I always think you look beautiful, you know that,” I murmur, threading my rough fingers between hers.
She pins me with a knowing grin in the reflection, her blue eyes challenging me. “Then you shouldn’t be surprised.”
My bottom lip tucks between my teeth as I spin her around, the jasmine aroma of her perfume caressing me. “I’m just not used to seeing your hair styled and your makeup done while wearing your scrubs,” I say, playfully yanking on the hem of the uniform.
Her palms cradle my jaw, the stroke of her thumbs against my scruff sending me reeling. “Maybe it makes the twelve-hour shift less painful. Ever think of that?”
My mouth dips to her sleek lips, our smirks pressing together when my left hand cups her cheek. “No, I’m not thinking of much else besides when you’re coming back home to me.”
“It’ll be worth the wait,” she coos, her fingers lingering over the scar dressing my raised forearm. “Wow, it’s healing nicely.”
I nod, my forehead nudging hers. “Yeah, it’s getting there.”
“I’m so proud of you.” Her throat rolls as she pulls back to peer up at me. “Not just for stepping in and doing the right thing, but soon enough, you’re going to be hosting the grand opening of your brewery.”
I wag my head playfully. “Okay, but don’t jinx it.”
She shines her pearly whites, lifting herself on her tiptoes to press a tender kiss to the corner of my mouth. For a fleeting moment, the platonic gesture jumbles my mind. But when our bodies drift apart, she staples a seductive gleam to me before exiting the room.
I lick my lips as I stand alone, eyes sinking to target my permanently decorated left forearm. A delicate pinch is delivered to my heart, warmth expanding across the skin beneath my t-shirt.
Long but skinny, and now coral in color, I guess the cut has mended nicely. Considering.
Maybe she has as well.
I really hope so.