The Fiance Dilemma (The Long Game #2)

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

It was eleven sharp and Matthew wasn’t here for his hard launch.

Not that he knew he was being hard launched. The man had no idea, which I solidly believed was the best way to go about it. If he showed up at all, that was.

I waved a gloved hand at Gabriel, who met my gaze from across the bleachers. He returned my tense smile with a frown, and I pretended to get a call before he could approach and ask what had me looking like I’d sucked a lemon.

See you around, I mouthed at him, pointing at my phone before bringing it to my ear.

I dragged myself all the way down the bleachers, disconnecting my fake call and landing on the grass with a little jump. I greeted a couple of people here, and smiled and nodded to a few others there, but for the most part I was a girl on a mission. Scrutinizing my surroundings for my fiancé. It was game day, and everyone currently filling the stands in Warriors Park—the new name for our local sports facilities—had showed up this Sunday with more than just an interest in the Green Warriors, our girls ragtag soccer team turned Little League champions. They were here to be a part of the mayor’s fiancé’s entry into Green Oak society.

And I’d been here, in these exact shoes, four times before. The end of summer lake barbecue with Greg. Green Oak’s Christmas tree lighting party with Ricky. Or our most recent tradition, the Easter Eggstravaganza, with Duncan. Even Shawn, who is from town, had to go through the motions.

I, Josie Moore, might act as mayor around here, but I didn’t make the rules. And the longer I went without a man off my arm, the more restless every expectant Green Oak resident grew. It didn’t exactly make the feminist in me sing, but one didn’t blame a rabbit for wanting to chase a carrot you dangled in its face.

“So where’s Marty?” Otto Higgings asked from my side.

“I was just thinking of you,” I muttered, keeping my gaze forward and my smile firm. “And not here. Yet. That’s also not his name.”

Chances were he wasn’t coming at all, but being delusional enough to think I could manifest things was something I loved to do. Plus, I had no alternative. It wasn’t like I could drive down to Tennessee and find some cowboy named Maverick to tangle in my mess. Believe me, I’d researched last night.

“They’re all the same to me,” Otto grumbled. “It’s hard to keep up anyway.”

Well, ouch. “Excited for the game?” I asked, keeping an eye on the entrance gate as people poured in. “I haven’t seen this many people since the Six Hills final last year. Do you think we’ll win?”

“Can’t say I care if we do,” Otto commented. “So how long is Marshall staying? And what’s with the gloves? It’s scorching today. One could say we’re in the middle of summer.”

I chuckled, but it came out all strangled. “Cold hands,” I lied. “Circulation problems. My hands and feet? Always cold. That’s completely normal stuff that happens to everyone.” I cleared my throat, sparing him a glance. Coco was, as always, astride his hip. “How about you go look for a spot, huh? The stands are filling up quick, and the game will start in a few minutes.”

Otto scoffed. “And miss this now that he’s here? Absolutely not.”

He’s here?

Matthew’s here?

Heart suddenly racing, I turned, following Otto’s gaze.

Matthew stood at the far end of the pitch, boots firmly set on the green grass, legs clad in dark denim, and shoulders covered in a long-sleeve baseball shirt. Brown eyes—no glasses, I noticed—met mine in the distance.

My thoughts stumbled.

He’d shown up. Matthew was here. And that meant he was really doing this. We were really doing this. We were about to confirm the engagement, and as much as this was just Green Oak and in the big scheme of things, it didn’t matter all that much, the notion still had something in my stomach mirroring the strange discord in my head.

“Man looks like this is the last place he wants to be,” Otto pointed out from my side, making me realize I was not moving. “Can’t say I blame him, with all this fuss. He’s not even wearing his hat. Isn’t he a cowboy? Oh, isn’t that Diane?” He tutted. “I wonder when she returned from her retreat. She doesn’t look all that rejuvenated to me, if I’m allowed to say. Did you know that—”

“No time for gossip,” I rushed out, finally leaving my neighbor and his pug behind.

Diane was not only back, but she was also on the move. Toward Matthew. And that meant I needed to get to him first. Intercept my fiancé before she could. Otto Higgings was child’s play compared to that woman. She was a human lie detector. And persistent, too. So I jogged, stealing glances at her.

Diane did the same, picking up her pace the moment she spotted me.

I broke into a sprint.

Matthew’s brown eyes widened, but he remained in position, his stance widening and his arms stretching slightly, as if readying himself for whatever was coming his way.

He’d better. Because Diane was close. And I hadn’t run toward something this desperately since a raccoon broke into Josie’s Joint, trashed the pie of the month display, and refused to leave.

“HELLO!” Diane started.

But Matthew’s gaze didn’t leave me in favor of the other woman. Good. Great. My legs ate away the last of the distance and I said, just as loud as Diane, “CATCH ME!”

Matthew’s brows shot up.

I lunged at him.

It wasn’t a swift, delicate lunge. Not even remotely close to the way I’d embraced him on my porch the disastrous night that put all of this in motion. It was a tackle. One that should have sent both of us tumbling to the ground. If not for Matthew’s arms, that closed around my waist in a strong vise; and my legs, that wrapped around his hips.

He muttered something that sounded a lot like motherfucker under his breath.

My lips popped open with an explanation, but it was forgotten the moment Matthew moved. One of his palms landed at the center of my back, and the other shifted under my leg. My thigh. He rearranged me around him. And I… I realized then I hadn’t thought this through well enough, because there were body parts. On body parts. Of various types.

“You caught me,” I pointed out. Clever.

A quick but deep chuckle left Matthew, falling right on my cheek. “You didn’t leave me any choice.” Some warmth traveled to my face, but for the most part, I was concerned with the spider-monkey hold I had on the man. “Josie?”

“Yes?” I croaked.

Matthew’s chest rose and fell with a sigh against mine. “What’s going on?”

I extricated my head from his neck and finally looked at his face. Boy, he was close. So much so that I could see the brown of his eyes had tiny specks of green. How had I missed that before? It must be the sunlight, making them shine and—

“Josie,” Matthew murmured, bringing me back.

I summoned an innocent smile. “Oopsie?”

Those eyes I’d been so caught on a moment ago dipped to my mouth. Briefly. “Oopsie?” His gaze returned to mine. “That’s your answer?”

It was a little hard to think when I could feel the imprint of his palm on the back of my thigh, even through my jeans. “Yes?” I cleared my throat. “Sorry. What was the question? And do you, ah, want me to jump off? I could. Just say the word.”

His arms didn’t loosen their hold around me. “Tell me who the woman you were racing is first. The one who’s still circling us like she’s waiting for something.”

Was that why he wasn’t dropping me on the ground? “That’d be Diane,” I explained. “She… Let’s say she’s very enthusiastic when it comes to newcomers. That’s why”—I glanced down at the small gap between our chests—“I did this. I’m protecting you from her. But don’t worry too much. It’s just Diane. Ignore her and she’ll go away. Just let me know when you’re ready for me to stop… protecting you.”

His eyes shifted behind me for a moment. “I don’t think it’s just her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every single person in the stands is staring. Do you have any idea why?”

“Oh. Right. So about that…” I made myself smile. “That’s because this is your hard launch. As my fiancé. Yay!”

We sat in the stands with equally stiff backs, pretending to watch the game.

“On a scale from zero being a golden retriever to ten being a rabid raccoon with a taste for pie, how mad about the surprise intro into society are you?” I ventured. “Be honest, please. I can take it.”

A long sigh left Matthew. He looked more resigned than mad to me. But for all I knew, he might have been secretly seething. “Do you think we should talk about this here?”

I looked around. The stands were packed. And everyone’s attention, as much as it had slowly shifted to the game, was still on us. Except for Grandpa Moe’s. He’d shown up just as my boots touched the ground and grumbled something unintelligible about a beetroot before heading for his usual spot in the front row. Since then, the cranky old man I loved to bits had gone to great lengths to pretend we didn’t exist.

It was my turn to sigh. “That’s a good point. We wouldn’t want anyone to think this wasn’t planned, or a trap to lock up my new man before he gets cold feet and flees town.” I glanced to my right, where a head full of permed curls I knew well protruded from the sea of people. I’d always had my suspicions the perm gave Diane her super-hearing powers, so I turned back to my newly and officially appointed fiancé and I scooted a little closer to him. “So… What do you want to talk about?”

“How about we watch the game?” Matthew offered. “The Grovesville Bears’ defense is starting to struggle.”

My brows arched. “So you’re not just pretending to watch?”

“They’re disorganized,” Matthew commented, his eyes on the grass. “Communication is off, and they’re giving the Warriors too much space.”

I returned my gaze to the game and watched, like really watched, for the first time. He was right. “Wow. It really is like they’ve left the back door wide open.” I stole a glance at the score. “And that explains the 4–0. Oh my God.” I clapped. “Go Warriors!”

“Exactly right,” he agreed. “Bears’ coach is more concerned about yelling than tightening them up.”

I could see as much. “You know,” I started, lowering my voice. “That woman, the Bears’ coach, she got into a little altercation with Cameron and Adalyn last year. During a game, while Cam was coaching the Warriors and Adalyn supervised the team.” Matthew glanced quickly at me, brows up. And I whispered, “She called Cam a little bitch, and Adalyn got all worked up.” I chuckled. “I swear, I knew then that she had it bad for him.”

Matthew let out a laugh with a shake of his head. “Unbelievable. Who calls Cameron Caldani a little bitch ?”

I watched him return his attention to the pitch as if he didn’t want to miss too much of it, but my eyes stayed on his profile. So what I’d heard about Matthew was true. Baseball shirt. Defense talk. Man-crush on former soccer star Cameron Caldani. He really was a sports nerd.

“So… Why are you not working in something like this?” I asked. And the question must have felt just as out of the blue for him as it did for me, because it stole his attention from the ball. “Sports,” I explained. “Most journalists who are also sports nerds end up following a team around the country or landing some kind of position as a correspondent or anchor.”

But not Matthew. He worked for an entertainment and celebrity news outlet. Or had worked, up until a few weeks ago. Neither Adalyn nor Cameron had ever gone into much detail about his departure, and it hadn’t been broached in our group chat. All Adalyn had told me was that Matthew had been asked to write about Andrew after the Time article that had attracted so much attention, and that Matthew had refused. Adalyn never said it had been to protect her and Cameron, but it seemed like it. Why else would he refuse?

When he didn’t say anything, I felt the need to fill the silence. “I always wondered, that’s all. But we don’t need to talk about it. I can see it’s not a topic you want to discuss. And that’s fine.”

“Exactly how much time do you and Adalyn spend discussing me?”

Some warmth rushed to my cheeks, but I tipped my chin up. “Don’t let it get to your head. We talk about everyone. In detail.” And we really did. “I was simply curious because you were analyzing the defense strategy of some local team that consists of sixth graders like we’re sitting at Wembley and the Spurs are playing a Premier League final.”

“Spurs, huh?” he repeated with a smile. It was really small, and lopsided, but at least it wasn’t a frown.

“Tottenham Hotspurs, of course. Not the San Antonio basketball team. No offense to the NBA, but European football is where it’s at.”

That slightly bent corner of his mouth twitched. “Sounding like Cam there for a second.”

“Pssh,” I let out. “A girl can know about the English league, you know.” A girl who had also been briefly engaged to a professional soccer player. But I didn’t say that, and I threw Matthew a wink. The brown of his eyes twinkled with surprise. “But yes. I could sound exactly like Cam if I wanted to. He grumbles a lot at games, and I’ve picked up some things.”

“Mind demonstrating?”

I cleared my throat lightly, then shot to my feet. “Oi, Tony!” I shouted in my best English accent. “Bloody get Rashford in. Can’t you see the Bears’ defense’s going to shite?” A few heads turned my way, the referee’s included. “Sorry, hon!” I told Tony, switching back to my voice. “Please carry on and make sure to swing by Josie’s Joint for the aftergame. You’re doing amazing, thank you!”

Matthew’s whole expression filled with amusement. “The resemblance is uncanny,” he said. To which I responded with a little bow before sitting back down. “In fact…” His eyelids fluttered shut. “Oh yeah, I think I can smell shortbread and stale beer if I close my eyes.”

“You did ask me to demonstrate,” I said with a snort. “And that’s what you think they eat at games? Shortbread?”

“I would,” he said, returning his gaze to the game. “Shortbread is great. I could eat it anywhere, at any time. My sister smuggled a box in her suitcase last Christmas, and it was a life-changing experience.”

I perked up with interest. Finally a piece of information I hadn’t been handed by Adalyn. “Was she visiting?”

“She lives there,” he answered easily. And his profile softened so much it made me pause. “Tay’s in London on a tennis scholarship. It isn’t a full ride, but it was her dream. Fell in love with the sport when we were kids and my dad somehow won tickets to the US Open. She’s been obsessed ever since. It’s a good thing she’s incredible at it.”

I ignored the warmth flooding my chest at the affection in Matthew’s voice. Oversharing was one of my love languages. It wasn’t the best love language to have, but it was the way I was wired. I overshared, and in turn, consumed and filed all and any information that fell into my hands. This was the first thing I’d added to my Matthew binder on my own, and I liked that it had been about his sister and that he’d looked like that while telling me.

“Those are the best things to fall in love with,” I heard myself say. “The ones we find accidentally.”

Matthew’s eyes found mine. That softness was still there, but something else had emerged. It made me… nervous. And it made me feel comfortable, too. Like I could say that kind of thing around him, but at the same time, like he wasn’t just hearing the words.

“Anyway,” I said, averting my gaze. “It’s good to know. This is the kind of stuff I should know if we… you know. Do this.”

“If?” I heard him ask from my side. “I was under the impression the deal was already sealed. Hard launch and all.”

“Otto said that you looked like this was the last place on earth you wanted to be. And you were a little late, after all. So it crossed my mind that you were on the first flight out of Charlotte. You did look a little like you were entering one of those creepy mirror houses they have at fairs.” I paused. “Even though you agreed to this whole thing.”

A strange hum left him.

It made me want to turn. But I wanted to be casual about what I was saying. So I stayed put, even when I felt his eyes intent on my profile.

“Did I?” he asked.

“Did you what?” I was holding the fort so well, I was proud of myself. “Agree or look terrified?”

“Either. All I remember from those two instances is being immediately and thoroughly sidetracked. By you.”

My stance broke. I glanced back at him. Matthew’s expression was serious in a way that made heat rush up my neck, bathing my whole face. I’d done that. Sidetracked him. I had used my double gaze stare on him yesterday, and I’d climbed him like a tree today.

“Well, that’s not my fault, is it?” I feigned indifference with a shrug. “That’s your prerogative as an easily sidetrackable man.”

“It really is,” he said.

I frowned at him, my fa?ade quickly dissolving. Why wasn’t he joking? My stomach dropped with dread at the logical answer to that: I had done a little more than sidetrack Matthew. I had pushed him to do this. I had beguiled him into it, even. And that didn’t make me a monster as much as it made me a desperate woman with only one way out of a mess she’d started, but I hated the idea of him feeling trapped all the same. Was that why his expression was so closed-off and stern-looking?

“You can jump ship and say no,” I told him. “At any moment.”

Matthew tilted his head in question. Which kind, I couldn’t know.

I insisted, “I’m not planning to shackle you to my wrist and drag you around town. It’d be a little awkward to do it here, but we could break up. Today. It wouldn’t be my first public breakup, and it wouldn’t be the first time a man dumped me, even though some podcaster believes I’m a heartless, damaged, evil witch with issues and a penchant for weddings.”

“They said that about you?” Matthew asked. “When?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but he was pulling out his phone. His fingers swiped with a determination that drove me to peek at the screen. Page Nine’s Instagram was open. “Matthew,” I called, feeling a little apprehensive now. My hand crossed the few inches separating us, landing on his arm. The sleeves of his baseball tee were pushed up and I immediately regretted having gloves on. “Why are you checking—” It locked into place then. “You’ve listened to it. Filthy Reali-Tea, Page Nine’s podcast. I didn’t tell you the specifics. That’s why you’re checking their page?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped when he looked up at me. “Yes.”

I had wondered if making Matthew listen to it would have been a quicker way to have him agree, but a part of me hadn’t wanted his pity. Judgment. And it didn’t matter how or when he found out about my past. It just bothered me a little that he had listened to it before… I could tell him myself? I could prepare?

“And what were you planning to do right now?” I asked him, pushing all of that aside. “Comment on some post like an outraged Karen?”

“I can be a great Karen.”

I gave him a half-hearted smile. “That’s sweet.”

It was also unnecessary.

Matthew hesitated, as if he was going to say something important. But I stopped him with a hand. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a perm moving in the crowd of heads, going one, two, three stands up. Right above us, but to the left. Pug ears popped up too. Then Otto’s cap. Jesus. Those two were like the Avengers of None of Their Business, assembling the moment anything important was picked up by the wind.

“Put your arm around me,” I instructed in a low voice. All Matthew did was frown. “Or do something. Anything you’d do to your fiancée if you were watching a game with her and she asked you something silly like ‘would you love me if I were a worm?’ Anything that’s PDA and would keep people from interrupting us. Anything that—” My eyes widened. “No lips or mouth,” I rushed out, realizing what I was asking might imply Matthew kissing me. But we’d eventually have to do that, right? Right? Oh God. And that— Focus, Josie. “Just do something. Now. Please?”

His hand met mine in a swift motion. Warmth wrapped around my wrist, and before I could so much as process the gentle touch, my gloved fingers were being brought up to the height of his chest. Matthew’s eyes met mine as he lowered his chin, his teeth closing slowly around the extra fabric around my pinky. He gave the glove a quick, gentle tug, and a breath seemed to get stuck somewhere between my throat and lungs. Then he replaced his mouth with his own expert hand, peeling the pink wool off my skin.

Wide-eyed—and frankly boiling hot despite the missing layer—I could do nothing but watch Matthew as he sandwiched my hand in his big palms and blew air into it. A warmth, soft like melted butter, spread, chased away by goose bumps breaking across my skin. My whole body tingled. Tingled.

The corners of his lips tipped up, his gaze roaming all over my face in a way that told me he knew exactly what he was doing. “This,” he finally said, rubbing my skin with his thumbs. “If my woman has cold hands, I’m going to keep them nice and warm.”

My woman.

Nice and warm.

I—

Shoot. I’d just been uno-reversed.

No words rose to my tongue, so I cleared my throat. All right. This was fine. I’d asked for this. It just caught me off guard, that’s all. That is what the wobble in my belly meant. Surprise.

“But sweetheart,” he said a lot louder. “Of course I would love you if you were a worm.” He winked. “I’d build you a tiny box and carry you in my pocket anywhere I’d go.”

“That’s… cute,” I muttered. Although it really was. It also felt incredibly nice to have my hand held like this. I dragged my eyes behind him. “The Gossip Brigade is down. For now.”

Matthew didn’t seem to care as much as I did. He was now preoccupied with turning my hand and inspecting my palm. His thumb caressed the skin, sending more tingles up my wrist. “The cut is healing.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Do you still want me to kiss it and make it better?”

My brain tripped. Kiss it and make it better? “That’s—” My voice broke. “No lips or mouth. I think I—I think I said that.”

He shrugged. Casually. Way too much. “Sorry. I really thought I mentioned having excellent selective hearing.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, seeing the start of a smile tugging at his mouth. My lips opened, but before I could say anything, both our phones started buzzing.

We frowned at each other, letting go of the other’s hands to fish out our devices.

“It’s Adalyn,” I said.

“Cam’s calling me,” Matthew said at the same time.

We both paused, and then it all clicked together. “Have you—”

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. He declined the call.

“Whoa. Did you just hang up on Cameron Caldani?” I asked him in disbelief. “Do you not know the man?”

Before Matthew could respond, our phones started ringing again. Only the ID-callers were switched. Matthew declined his best friend’s call, too.

“You’re ballsy,” I breathed out, letting my call go to voicemail. “And they are insistent, which can only mean one thing.” I studied Matthew, gauging how this made him feel. “A part of me expected you to call Adalyn yesterday. After I left. It’s really okay if you did.”

“I didn’t,” he said, brows knotting. “You didn’t tell them anything?”

I shook my head. “I was waiting for today. In case you… called it off. And it would really be okay if you wanted to check with Adalyn to see if she’s comfortable with this. You’ve been best friends for years. And I’m Adalyn’s sister, but I’m new to her life. You get shotgun on the conversation if you want to reassure her, and them, first. Or make sure I’m trustworthy. Or—”

“Do you really believe that?”

I didn’t want to ask him for clarification, so I didn’t. Luckily, the perfect distraction came in the shape of a trail of notifications making my hands ping.

ADALYN: We’re not mad, just surprised. And happy!! Why are you not picking up? We know you’re together. Someone texted me a picture to say congrats.

CAM: Oh. I’m actually mad.

ADALYN: Ignore him. There’s nothing to be mad about. Except maybe you guys not telling us earlier? BUT WE ARE HAPPY. My best friend and my sister (!). I have so many questions. But please know, there was no need to hide your relationship. Or your engagement.

CAM: That’s exactly why I’m mad.

CAM: Also, congrats. Happy for you. Now answer the bloody phone.

ADALYN: Please

I stared at the screen, all kinds of emotions rioting in my stomach. They were all mixed, and they took up all the space in there. Probably more than that, judging on how heavy my whole body felt.

“They… They’re not questioning if it’s real,” I heard myself say. “They’re not asking us if we’re together. Just assuming we hid it. Do you think that’s good? Or bad? I wasn’t expecting someone to text them. I thought I’d have a little time to think about how to tell them. And what to tell them. If you hadn’t already, of course. God, they must be so hurt. Disappointed. Although Adalyn doesn’t sound super hurt or disappointed. Do you think that’s weird? We need to tell them the truth. Unless you think they’ll… freak out. Convince us not to do it. I mean, let’s face it, Cameron hates anything that has to do with the press or media, and Adalyn will go all overprotective on you. You’re her best friend. She’ll probably get into a fight with Andrew over this. And Bobbi. Maybe even me. The whole PR drama is already bad enough. And they’ve been under so much stress with the Club. It’s only one year old, and I know they’re getting a lot more attention after Andrew mentioned it in that Time article. So how— God. I—I think I’m getting a little sweaty. Dizzy? Do you think they’re on their way here? I don’t know if I can face them. Or tell them the truth. Oh God, just the idea is making me—”

Matthew’s hand fell on my forearm, bringing my gaze up. “Deep breath.”

I inhaled deeply, holding his gaze. Immediately realizing I hadn’t done that in a minute or two.

“We don’t need to tell them,” Matthew said.

“We don’t?”

“Not if the thought of it is giving you a goddamn panic attack, no.”

“I’m okay,” I whispered. I wasn’t, but the noise in my head had quieted with that deep breath. Or Matthew’s words. “I’m fine. And this shouldn’t be my call. You shouldn’t be pushed to lie to your best friend just because I’m a wreck. It should be your call.”

“You’re wrong.”

My only answer was a frown.

“It’s not my call,” he insisted simply. Matter-of-factly. “And I don’t get shotgun on anything. Me getting that based on some strange seniority of friendship, it’s bullshit, Josie. She’s your sister.” He paused, as if to make a point. “You get to make the call. Or at the very least we do. Together.”

My head worked out his words, but it was all chaos upstairs again. I didn’t know if I could trust myself. My decision-making capabilities had been really off lately. It was… selfless of Matthew to say that. It made me feel… good. Worse. Relieved. Shook up. My voice came out weird. “You’re talking like we’re in a relationship.”

“Are we not?” Then, a little louder. “We’re engaged.”

My eyes widened at first, but then I realized. We were in the stands. Still. I swallowed, trying to get ahold of my thoughts. “We are.”

Matthew nodded, as if that was all he needed as confirmation. “I’ll return their call after the game. I’ll handle most of the initial heat on why we kept it hidden from them. Or why I proposed so fast. You have enough on your plate with Bobbi, and I was planning on bringing this up with you anyway.”

My throat worked around the air stuck in my throat. Matthew had… thought of this. It didn’t matter if for a day or a few hours. He was far better than me at problem-solving, and that… made me feel a way I wasn’t able to fully grasp. Guilty? Selfish? Grateful? Relieved. Maybe all of those things.

Before I could look too much into it, he was slipping the phone back into the pocket of his jeans and plucking something else out, distracting me.

Everything inside me halted at the sight.

“You should have this,” Matthew said.

With a shaky breath, my eyes inspected what was held between his fingers. A moss-green pouch. My heart resumed, whipping about, thrashing against the walls of my chest. My words were a whisper, “Have what?”

“This,” Matthew said, sending the struggling organ to my feet. “Your hands weren’t cold,” he added. “Makes no sense in the seventy-degree weather. You were hiding them, weren’t you? You can’t wear the ring from the other night. From your ex. So have this one instead.”

Every word had sent me further into shock. I couldn’t find my thoughts, or words, or reason. I couldn’t find… anything.

So I asked again, “Have what instead?”

“My ring.”