Chapter 48
Harrison
There’s only one place men go when they’ve really fucked up.
Sebastian Jewelers.
Zac hands me a coffee as I shut the SUV door.
He takes one look at me and winces. “Man… this is some biblical-level desperation.”
“Noah built an ark,” I mutter, taking the coffee. “I’m rebuilding my marriage.”
“Yup.” He lifts the cup to his mouth. “You’re loooosing it,” he sings into the lid. “Just call her already.”
“No. This needs to be perfect.”
“Your marriage started with an accidental wedding and TMZ as your best man. I think we sailed past perfect a while ago.”
Behind him, Hannah opens the SUV door and helps Snooki onto the sidewalk while Ollie immediately tries to sacrifice himself to Manhattan traffic.
“Whoa, absolutely not.” Hannah snags the back of Ollie’s hoodie one-handed. “Nobody’s getting flattened like Frogger before dinner.”
“Can we play with diamonds?” Snooki asks excitedly.
“No touching anything,” I say immediately.
All three kids groan.
“Okay. Jewelry store rules.” I hold up one finger. “Rule one: no touching anything.”
“You already said that,” Connor points out.
“And it bears repeating.” I point at Ollie specifically. “I’m serious. We look with our eyes.”
“Fine,” Connor says with a snicker. “We won’t lick anything.”
“Scout’s honor.” Zac holds up three fingers.
Smart asses.
“Rule two,” I continue, “if you break anything in there, I will personally sell each of you to a traveling circus.”
“Can I juggle knives?” Ollie asks immediately.
“That was supposed to be a threat, not a career goal.”
I bop him lightly on the nose.
“Rule three,” I add as we head toward the glass doors, “no running, no climbing, no loudly asking how much things cost, and absolutely no fighting unless you want security tackling you to the floor.”
Connor narrows his eyes. “That’s way more than three rules.”
I pat his shoulder. “See? And you said you weren’t good at math.”
The second we step inside, the showroom goes quiet as the kids widen their eyes.
Then Sebastian swoops toward us in an immaculate charcoal suit before slowing abruptly when he notices the children.
“Ah,” he says carefully. “You brought… your children.”
Why do so many people say it like that?
Behind me, Zac immediately steers the boys toward a massive clock display that looks complicated enough to launch a satellite.
Meanwhile Hannah crouches beside Snooki and points discreetly toward the ceiling.
“See those cameras?” she whispers. “That’s because this place will absolutely tackle your father if he touches the wrong thing.”
Snooki’s eyes widen. “What’s the wrong thing?”
Hannah lowers her voice dramatically.
“Everything,” she whispers like it’s the Temple of Doom.
“You’re here about the ring,” Sebastian says grimly.
“Yes.”
“No.”
I stare at him across the glass counter.
“What do you mean no?”
Sebastian removes his glasses slowly like he’s preparing for a migraine.
“Harrison, your ring is officially listed as missing.”
“Because it is missing.”
“And the police are involved in at least two states.”
“Because I tackled a guy to the ground in California.” I gesture vaguely. “The creep had his hands on my wife after she finished pretending to be Princess Luna for the day, then I had to interrogate him at the station. Somewhere between felony assault and paperwork, the ring disappeared.”
Sebastian blinks once.
“That is somehow not even close to the strangest story I’ve heard this week.”
“But as you know”—I gesture around the showroom—“I live here. In New York.” I hold up two fingers. “Two states. Two police departments. So what does any of that have to do with me buying another ring?”
Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Look,” he says, lowering his voice, “if I recreate a nearly identical half-million-dollar engagement ring less than a month after the original mysteriously vanishes during what sounds like a Jason Bourne incident, insurance investigators will descend upon my showroom like teenage girls spotting Taylor Swift.”
“What if—” I grasp at any available straw. “What if I swear never to file a claim? I’ll even sign it in blood.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Sebastian gestures helplessly. “The ring is flagged. The diamond is flagged. The setting is flagged. If I suddenly produce its identical twin four weeks later, people start asking deeply unpleasant questions.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know.” He shakes his head. “But desperate men with missing diamonds make insurance companies very nervous.”
“This is ridiculous.” I rub my jaw. “How long do I have to wait because that ring was…” Something tight pinches in my chest. “Perfect.”
“It truly was,” Sebastian says mournfully, placing a hand over his heart. “And not selling you another exquisite piece today wounds me spiritually. It truly does.” He sighs dramatically. “But you must wait a little longer.”
“How long?” I ask flatly.
Sebastian sighs.
“Harrison,” he says more gently now, “if the ring surfaces naturally, wonderful. If not, then this is truly the best way for me to avoid having my business records examined like a colonoscopy.” He thinks for a second. “Give it… a few more weeks.”
“That’s almost Valentine’s Day!” Snooki gasps from across the showroom.
The words hit like a shotgun blast straight to the sternum.
“A few more weeks,” I repeat numbly.
“Daddy, look at me!”
I turn.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
At some point, the women in the showroom collectively decided Snooki needed to be bedazzled for the gods.
She’s dripping in jewelry, head to toe.
Diamond bracelets stacked halfway to her elbows.
Necklaces.
Even one massive ring stretched across two of her tiny fingers.
And an enormous tennis necklace hanging crooked across her sweater like she just survived a very glamorous mugging.
The women surrounding her are absolutely radiant.
Sebastian instantly perks up.
“Ah,” Sebastian says, clasping his hands together. “Since money is apparently no object, perhaps your little princess would enjoy something sparkly.”
“You wish.”
Snooki frowns like I just canceled her birthday.
Behind me, Zac snorts into his coffee before slowly wandering over. “I might know somebody who can help.”
Hope detonates inside my chest.
“With the ring?”
“Maybe,” he shrugs, noncommittally. He winces. “But you’re really not gonna like it.”
“At this point I’d mud wrestle a grizzly bear in Times Square. I’ll do anything.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”