Chapter Thirty-Five Rings and Things
W ednesday night is a less carnal repeat of Monday. Georgia shows up with dinner, looking relieved and perplexed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I... Uh.” Georgia leans against me for a while as we stand in the kitchen. “I guess you know all about it. You’ve been married.”
“What I learned from being married is hardly comprehensive,” I admit. “What is it?”
“My period. I’m early. Which is better than late. I’m just surprised.” Georgia’s hands twist and pull at her hair, working it into a fluffy golden bun. “I guess it’s good that we waited a while to make love because we were in the “danger zone” earlier than I thought.”
“Could it be the new potion you started Monday?” I ask.
“Maybe. I don’t think so.” Georgia sits down heavily on the chair and rolls her neck, then her shoulders. “All my muscles hurt. I have cramps. I’m going to be miserable. I’m not usually miserable, but I’m miserable this time. I didn’t know it was coming, or I would have taken my mother’s special tea.”
“Want me to drive over and get you some? Is it at your house?” I ask, coming to stand behind her and massaging her neck. A dark fear is forming in my mind. What if she’s not having her period? What if I’ve bruised her and caused bleeding with my size?
Wouldn’t it have started earlier? We’ve fit together more easily each time.
Georgia rubs her middle. “You have to take it before it starts to work the best. I’ll get some when I go home. I just wanted to drop off dinner.” She begins to drag herself upward, and I push her back down, surprise making me far less delicate than I should be. We both make a noise of surprise.
“Leave? I’ll go get you the tea, pet, you stay here. Give me your keys and tell me where it is.”
Georgia sits up slowly, the smile I love trying to fight its way back. “I’m not going to be any fun. Not good company. No good in bed, either.”
I cock my head. “Are y’ seriously thinking of leavin’ my house and my bed because you’ve got your normal woman’s cycle? You’ll have it every month! When we’re wed, what’ll ye do? Bugger off to your parents’ for a week?”
Yes. I’m ranting.
I just... I can’t imagine her leaving. I can’t imagine her being hurt and not letting me help. It’s not that she wants to shut me out, but it feels that way.
“What? No! Of course not, but we’re not married yet, and you don’t have to put up with my whining and wanting a heating pad, ice cream, and whimpering for six hours because it hurts too bad to sleep.”
“Oh, love! That’s horrible. No, you should stay here. I’ll take care of you. Ice cream? Where’s the tea? Give me your keys. I’ll get my keys. We should have each other’s keys...” I go from place to place in the house, finding my keys, moving her to the sofa, putting the kettle on, and looking in the freezer.
Georgia’s smile is back in full force. “I knew I loved you.”
“I love you, too.” I take the keys from beside her purse. “Now, tell me where to find the tea or I’ll bring the whole blasted kitchen.”
I SIT ON HIS COUCH , wrapped in a duvet, and wait. It hurts extra this month—maybe because everything is tender from long bouts of lovemaking for four days in a row. Going from a technical virgin to a woman who begs to be pounded and comes while screaming on a thick orc knot is probably a big switch for my lady bits.
Douglas is so sweet to rush around and fuss over me. I wonder if he fussed over Nicola like this? I wonder if this is all some sort of overcorrection, where he feels he has to be super-duper attentive because he feels he wasn’t a good husband the first time around.
I don’t believe that. I believe he was the best he could be, and I believe he’ll be wonderful to me. I love being pampered, but not if he’s torturing himself while doing it.
“I’m back! I got the ice cream from your freezer instead of running to the shops. Figured I’d get home to you quicker.”
Get home to me.
“I’m sorry I’m ouchie and icky.” I don’t know if I look icky, but I feel it. I feel like I got swamped by a bog monster, no offense to the bog monsters of the world.
“You’re not icky, you’re gorgeous, and I’m sorry about the pain, love. Want to watch a film? I’ll bring dinner in here.”
“I’m not an invalid. I can move around.”
Douglas smiles and pushes the box of ice cream into my hand. “I know. But it’s nice to have someone to look after.” His soft smile is suddenly stiff. “It’s Wednesday.”
“I know.”
“You have book club.”
“I’ll skip it. I’m behind on my reading this week.” I smile at him. “I had something more fun to do than just reading smut—living the smut.”
We share a chuckle, but the tight smile stays. “D’you think we should postpone our Sunday picnic?”
Ooh. Was someone planning to ravish me in the grass? Even crampy, I feel a little squeeze down below. I love that idea—but the way he’s tensed makes me think Douglas wants to surprise me with his sudden pursuit through the meadows and woods, living out my fantasy.
“No! I’ll be going to work tomorrow, twelve hours on my feet. Cramps can’t stop me for long. But um...” It’s my turn to look tense. “I know some people don’t like intimacy during that part of the month. That might not be a concern by that day.”
“Hm? Oh! Oh, I don’t mind waiting.” Douglas sits next to me. His much larger hand rubs my knee, and I settle into him. “I don’t mind... not waiting. I feel that’s up to the lady.”
“I feel that’s up to the couple.”
“I wouldn’t press my mate when she’s in pain.”
“The pain only lasts the first day or two for me.” Then I’m a horny little mess.
“Is that so?” Douglas sighs against my temple, pulling me farther into his arms. I rest on his chest and sigh. He’s one full-body heating pad—and he massages my lower back as his soft voice whispers in my ear. “I’ve never shared this with someone. I’m not saying we have to, but if my mate wanted me at any time... I doubt I could bring myself to refuse.”
“I like knowing you want me no matter what day of the month it is,” I whisper back.
“Aye, lass. For better or worse. Sickness and health.”
I force myself to sit up. “Let’s bring dinner and that tea in here, Doug. But when we’re done eating, will you sit with me, just like this?”
He beams. I can’t help but notice the way something lights up in his eyes. Is it the way I call him Doug? What I asked?
He rises, but pats the sofa behind me. “Behind you?”
“Mmhm.”
“Why?”
“You make the pain stop. You’re the sexiest, not to mention largest, heating pad in the world.”
“Gladly. And you’re sure Sunday is still fine for a picnic?”
“Yes. Even if it rains. We’ll have an indoor picnic. Nothing is going to stand in our way.” I don’t know why the picnic is so important, but I’m not going to question. Actually, I do know—we had a picnic the first time we made love. It’ll be just about a week.
“You’re a romantic soul,” I praise, snuggling back into my nest.
It’s nice to have someone take care of me.
An hour later, I fall asleep in his arms while Monty Python’s Flying Circus plays on BBC America. Douglas’ chuckles rumble against my skin and his warm hands massage my achy legs. I should move—but I don’t want to.
“Stay here. With me,” he whispers.
“Never want to leave.” I smile, and the world slips away as I venture into dreamland.
JAN STILZ OF STILZ Jewelers looks uncannily familiar. I know it’s a small town, but I also think... I think he’s been at the coffee shop, rehearsal dinner, the hunt, and Georgie’s wedding. I give the handsome human with a long silky braid of brown hair and dark, magnetic eyes a wary once-over.
Is he after my Georgia? What man wouldn’t be?
“Hi!” The jeweler waves with one hand and then presses his fingers to his other palm. Gold threads ripple out and spin themselves into a complicated braid. “You’re a friend of Georgie’s, right? Douglas? You gave a speech at his wedding!”
“Uh. Yes. And you’re Mr. Stilz?”
“Call me Jan!” He grins, and the braid forms a clasp and hook.
“Ooh. Goblin?”
“Poppart, specifically. You probably heard of my ancestor. Famous. In books? Rumpel Stilz?”
“Oh. You’re Rumpel Stilz...kin.”
This town is not to be believed.
“That’s me. I’ve seen you around the shop a lot lately. You’re seeing Georgia, right?”
The smile doesn’t vanish and the voice stays friendly. I nod and take the pearl earrings from my sporran. “Aye. I am. And I’m here to get my future bride a ring with a pearl to match this set. Pearl and diamonds, if you have it.”
“If I don’t have it, I’ll make it! Wow! This is amazing! Di! Honey, come here!”
I freeze as Diana, Georgia’s waitress and dear friend emerges from the back of the shop, eyes wide and a carton of what seems to be pork lo mein in her hand. Chopsticks are poised between her mouth and the small box she carries.
We stare at each other in shock.
Jan is rummaging under the glass display case. “Sweetie, Douglas is here to pick out Georgia’s engagement ring. Pearls and diamonds. I think that’ll suit her, don’t you?”
“Mmhm!” Diana squeaks, still staring at me.
“I haven’t asked her yet. I don’t want everyone to know!” I hiss, resisting the urge to crush the counters like overbaked biscuits.
“I won’t tell anyone. I was just visiting Jan for lunch on my break and... Wow. Oh, my gosh, this is the best news ever!” Diana stabs the chopsticks into her little paper carton and sprints towards me. Before I know it, the petite human has latched onto me like an affectionate tick in leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. “I’m going to be a bridesmaid for her! She’s always the bridesmaid, never the bride— God, that sounded so terrible, but it’s true, because she’s like—so helpful. She’s everyone’s friend, and everyone loves her, and eeee!”
I retreat, looking at the jeweler for help as his wife squeals and does a little jig in the middle of the store. “Uh. She’s a treasure, indeed.”
“And she has the hots for you so bad, Douglas. Like, from the first second she met you, she’s had her mind made up that you were the one!”
“Honey, maybe Georgia should tell—”
“Hush, man. Go on, dear lady.” I nod encouragingly. The petite, shrieking woman has caught my attention. “What else does she say?”
“Not a lot, but sometimes she just stops and stares at you when you work on your laptop—like you’re the last Boston Cream donut in the world, and she can’t wait to take big bite out of you and get to the cream in the middle!”
Am I blushing?
Jan is blushing.
Diana’s eyes widen. “I... Have to go back to work.”
“Oi! Don’t breathe a word of this!”
“Diana, you can’t keep a secret from Georgia to save your life,” Jan warns.
“This is a good secret. I can keep good secrets! Um.” Diana swallows noisily. “When were you thinking of asking her?”
“Soon. Sunday,” I snarl.
She places a hand to her chest and sags in relief. “Oh, phew! That’s only a few days away. I won’t tell.” Diana turns abruptly to Jan. “You will give him the family discount, right? Georgia and Georgie took me in when I had nowhere to go, and you wouldn’t have met me if they hadn’t given me a job,” she says, crossing her arms.
“Yes, honey. I promise.” Jan opens and closes his hands and a row of ring boxes snap into place on the glass counter, resting on a long red velvet runner. A snap of his fingers, and lids fly open.
Jan starts talking about the merits of each ring, moving right to left, but I’ve already decided. The pearl is as big as a hummingbird’s egg, and it sits in a halo of tiny diamonds.
“She’s the moon. And the stars only dance around her.” I pluck the ring from the box in the middle of the man’s speech. I don’t care about the cost or discount. I look at it in the light and try to ignore Diana’s jumping and shimmying in place behind me. “This is her ring,” I say.
“That’s the best one,” Diana stage whispers.
“I agree. It would suit her—and the luster and color match the pearls that you already have. A good choice!”
My hand dives back into my sporran. I slap my wallet on the counter. “Wrap it up.”
Warmth floods me, and chills chase it.
Am I really doing this? Am I going to propose this weekend? What if it all goes wrong again? What if it’s too soon?
What if it’s just the right time? What if it’s perfect?
“There’s no rush,” Jan hesitates when I freeze.
I shake my head. “Aye, there’s no rush—but it’s time.”
“ARE YOU PREGNANT?” I can’t stand it any longer. Since Thursday afternoon, Diana has been a giddy, giggling mess, and she runs away whenever she sees me, off to the bathroom. Since we’re working together, that’s a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom.
“No!”
“Do you have a UTI?”
“No! I’m just... I’m just excited for this weekend. Jan and I are going to go visit his sister in New Haven on Sunday.” Diana composes herself and takes an order out of the window. “Do you have any plans?”
“Well, Saturday’s going to be busy with that baby shower—which reminds me, can you sweep out the private room? I told Mr. Minegold he could come in this evening and help set things up. Then Jesse’s mom will be over in the morning.”
“Mr. Minegold? He’s setting up?”
“Well, just the decorations. It’s kinda-sorta his granddaughter that’s being born, after all.” I shrug.
“Great, I’ll go sweep! I’ll go wipe down the tables and set them up, too, with one long table along the back for the food and a table on the side for the gifts,” Diana says in a rush, and bolts from the room.
“Diana! Your orders.”
“Oh. Yeah,” she gives me a sheepish giggle and takes her tray.
“Something is wrong with her. She never even heard what I was doing on Sunday.”