Chapter Thirteen
Bobbi
As I drive home from Ivy’s place, my mind keeps going over what Yuna said. Although I wasn’t sure about this whole manifest-via-the-perfect-engagement-ring idea at first, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I haven’t had much success so far with the romantic aspect of my future, and I don’t want to live without a vision. No way I’m waking up one day to realize I’ve been living a life I never wanted for myself.
Bobbi’s Sweet Things became a reality when I visualized it, meditated on it constantly and then finally manifested it. Of course, there was a lot of hard work as well, but I was thinking about different recipes all the time, baking whenever I had the chance. I haven’t put nearly as much effort into the family part of my dream, so of course I’m attracting all the wrong men.
So when Peery Diamonds comes into view, I park my Tacoma and go inside the glitzy jewelry retailers. Talk about manifestation—I never thought I’d have the chance to walk into this store, but suddenly here I am.
Every square inch of the store exudes affluence and luxury. Even the music is beautiful, some classical thing Yuna and Ivy would instantly recognize—and probably be able to play without any preparation.
A pretty brunette glides over to me. “Welcome to Peery Diamonds.” Her voice is professionally friendly. “My name is Jessica. Can I be of assistance today?” She peers up at me. Even in pumps, she’s a lot shorter.
“Yeah. I’m looking for a ring.”
“Any particular occasion?”
“It’s for a proposal.”
Her amber eyes glitter with good will. “Oh, how romantic! I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah.” I will be, too, as soon as I manifest the right husband material and get married and have a family. “Thanks. Me, too.”
“We have an incredible bridal selection.” She leads me to a display. “These are some of our best pieces.”
The rows of solitaire diamond rings under the glass take my breath away. I never thought diamonds were particularly pretty. Maybe that’s why I haven’t attracted a suitable husband candidate. I didn’t appreciate this aspect of the whole engagement and marriage thing.
There is a gorgeous blue stone among the clear diamonds that catches my eye. It isn’t traditional, but maybe sapphires are a thing? I mean, my ideal ring doesn’t have to be a diamond. Tony proposed to Ivy with a stunning pearl ring.
Jessica notices. “That’s our blue diamond. It’s not overly large—”
“Wait, that’s a diamond?”
“Yes, actually. It’s not overly large at one carat, but it’s exceptional in saturation and cut.” She reaches inside with gloved hands, plucks it off the velvet and holds it out so I can see it more closely. “Look how it sparkles under the light. This is the best Asscher cut I’ve seen.”
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, unable to look away. “Wow.” Then, remembering my true purpose here, I close my eyes for a moment. Imagine a romantic scene with top-tier champagne bubbling in clear flutes edged with gold…something pretty and delicious on the table—maybe my favorite cherry pie, topped with a generous mound of whipped cream—and soft classical piano music floating in the air like fragments of a dream finally coming together. A man drops to one knee, holding out a beautiful blue diamond ring. Then he says, “Will you marry me?” in a sweet baritone voice, quavering slightly with love and devotion.
Giddiness rises like the champagne bubbles in my fantasy. I can’t clearly see the man I’m going to marry, but I already know the qualities he has. Honest. Hard-working. Supportive. Puts me first. Ready to take a bullet for me—although that won’t happen in real life because I don’t want that kind of high drama. I left my bodyguarding career for a reason.
My mind still isn’t revealing the man—it’s just a fuzzy man-shaped haze where he should be. But the rest of my vision will take shape as I continue to work on my manifestation.
“It’s so pretty,” I say, opening my eyes.
Jessica nods in approval. “Just the piece for a romantic proposal.”
I look down at it again, then at my finger. My smile widens. “Yup. Super romantic.” I picture the life I could have with a loving husband, our wonderful children and Se?or Mittens in a beautiful house—our house, not necessarily the one my dad left me—and building a fulfilling and loving—
Noah’s voice shatters the reverie. “You’re going to propose?”
What the fuck?!I whip my head around and there he stands, wearing a slightly stunned expression.
He looks unfairly handsome in a loose T-shirt and shorts, his hair tousled and stubble covering his square jaw. I used to love running my fingers over his chin, feeling the roughness there against my fingertips and marveling at how different we were, yet how compatible.
The incredulity on Noah’s face is replaced by narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, like he’s upset. Good. Why should I be the only one suffering over his whim to butt back into my life?
“Since when did you start playing for the other team?” he asks, apparently taking my silence as a yes.
I mime checking a watch. “Since about, ah, half-past never. If you must know, I’m looking for a suitable ring for me and my future husband.”
“Your future husband?” Noah repeats like he can’t compute. “Lorcan?”
“Oh, God no.” I shudder.
“Then who?”
“The specific who isn’t the point right at the moment. I’m not waiting for somebody to give me my dream. I’m manifesting him.”
He pauses, unblinking, for a full three beats. “You’re manifesting a husband.”
It’s like I just told him I plan to hike barefoot to Mars. His reaction only makes me more annoyed, hurt and determined. “Yes. A good, reliable man. Someone I can depend on. Do you think I’m incapable of attracting a man like that?”
He looks like he just got punched in the solar plexus. “I—”
“Actually, don’t answer. I don’t need your bad mojo ruining this moment.” I don’t need a reply to know. His shitty treatment of me is response enough. I was somebody he fucked, nothing more. All I got out of our “relationship” were lies and disappointment.
“Bobbi, a husband is a serious matter. You—”
“Yes. Even more serious than a committed boyfriend-girlfriend relationship.”
“You can’t just go and propose to some random guy,” Noah continues doggedly, sounding betrayed and…with a hint of worry? Maybe even anxiety?
I put on a smile as sweet as my buttercream. “Oh, it won’t be to just any guy. But don’t worry. That guy will never be you.” I turn to Jessica. “Can we discuss payment options?”
Yuna offered to pay for the ring, but I can’t let her. It’s my dream, so I need to finance it.
Noah shoves a black AmEx at Jessica. “Here. My fiancée isn’t going to pay for her own ring.”
I freeze, unable to process what I just heard. There’s no way he just called me his fiancée.
Then bitterness starts to swell in my heart. If he’d said this maybe even a year ago, I might’ve been ecstatic. But now? Now there’s only pain and resentment. He must consider me a complete idiot to think I’ll keep playing this game with him. Especially when the only prizes are my torment and a broken heart.
Jessica glances at me, her eyes uncertain, then back at Noah and starts to reach for the credit card.
I snatch it out of Noah’s hand and slap it against his chest, putting some real force into it. “Who the hell are you calling your fiancée?”
He takes a staggering step back. “You.”
“Since when? I haven’t heard a proposal.”
“You want me to do it right? No problem.” He instantly drops to one knee, like he’s been dying for a chance.
Once again, a year ago I would’ve been teary with joy. But now I know he isn’t serious. He’s only doing this because he can’t bear the idea of losing one of the toys he occasionally pulls out and plays with. “No. I don’t want you to do anything at all, because I’m not your fiancée. And you aren’t going to be my husband.”
He looks like I just backhanded him. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Are you kidding? How long am I going to be your fiancée? Until you get a call that some cheetahs are about to fuck and they need you to take photos? Hey Noah, Cheetah Only Fans needs more content. Until you get another rush of inspiration for your novel and spend three days locked away not answering your phone? Remember that one? Or until you find basically anything better to do than keep a promise to me?”
Guilt and remorse twist his handsome face, and I steel myself. I can’t let this display affect me when I know he doesn’t care enough not to hurt me again.
“No. You’ll be my fiancée forever. I mean, until we get married,” he says.
“You know what I was doing before you walked up? I closed my eyes and envisioned a proposal. And guess what? You weren’t in it.” I step forward and push him again, making him put a hand down to keep his balance. Once he realizes I won’t be easy pickings, he’ll move on.
“Bobbi—”
“Go marry some girl you really love. One you moan about in your sleep.”
“That’s you.” The confusion on his face is so sincere, its claws leave a vicious gash in my heart.
I smile to hide the pain. “Nope. Sorry. You chose your precious cheetah porn over me. I never meant anything to you, so stop.”
He regards me for a long moment. That’s right. You got nothing to say.
He slowly stands up and looks me in the eye. “You’re wrong. You mean everything to me, and I’m going to manifest another chance to prove it to you.”