Chapter 29
Theo
The jewelry store on Maple Street is small, the kind of place I’ve walked past a hundred times without really seeing. But today I’m pushing open the door and stepping inside because I’m buying an engagement ring. I’m going to ask Emma Hayes to marry me. I just need to get her back first.
The woman behind the counter looks up when the bell chimes. She’s probably in her sixties, silver hair pinned back neatly, reading glasses hanging from a delicate chain around her neck. “Can I help you find something?”
“I’m looking for an engagement ring,” I say, and the words feel surreal coming out of my mouth but also completely right, like I’ve been waiting for years to say them. “Vintage style with a gold band if you have anything like that.”
Emma’s talked about loving antique jewelry before and how pieces from the twenties and thirties have this romantic quality that modern rings can’t quite capture, like they carry the love stories of everyone who wore them before.
I’d filed it all away without really thinking about why I was filing it away, but it turns out some part of me was already planning a future with her.
The woman nods thoughtfully. “I have several pieces that might work. Art deco era? Edwardian? Do you have a sense of what style she gravitates toward?”
“Art deco,” I say. “Something with character.”
“I like her already.” The woman smiles and disappears into the back room, returning a moment later with a velvet tray. “What size?”
“Six,” I say immediately. A few months ago Emma had ordered a vintage ring online, some piece she’d found on Etsy that she’d been excited about for days.
When it arrived, she’d been so disappointed because it didn’t fit properly.
“It said it was a size six,” she’d complained, showing me how loose it was.
The woman sets the velvet tray on the glass counter, and I lean forward to examine the rings arranged in neat rows. This is insane, part of my brain tells me. We’re not even really together right now, and here I am buying an engagement ring like I’ve already won her back.
But I know what I want, and I’m done waiting for the universe to deliver it. Sometimes you have to go get what you want yourself.
I study each ring carefully, taking my time.
A square-cut emerald in a platinum setting, beautiful but too cold for Emma.
An oval diamond with sapphire accents, striking but not quite right.
A rose gold band with a ruby center stone, gorgeous but she’s mentioned preferring yellow gold.
I move methodically through the tray, picking up each piece, turning it in the light, trying to imagine it on her hand.
Then I see it.
A yellow gold band with a center diamond surrounded by smaller stones clustered around it like a flower, the setting delicate and feminine but still substantial enough to catch the light.
The metalwork is intricate, tiny details that reveal themselves the longer you look.
It’s exactly what Emma would choose, exactly what she’d want, romantic and full of history and unlike anything else.
“This one,” I say, picking it up carefully. The weight of it feels heavier than it should be for something so small. Like my whole future is in this ring.
“Beautiful choice,” the woman says warmly. “It’s from the 1920s, European cut diamond, original setting. Remarkably well-preserved.” She checks something on her computer, her fingers moving across the keyboard.
I hold the ring up to the light, watching the diamond catch and scatter it into tiny rainbows across my palm.
Emma is going to love this. She’s going to cry when she sees it, probably, the way she cries at sad movies and surprise endings and moments of unexpected kindness.
She’s going to say yes. She has to say yes, because the alternative isn’t something I’m willing to consider.
“I’ll take it,” I say.
The woman’s smile widens. “Wonderful. It’s twelve thousand dollars. Will that be alright?”
I don’t even hesitate. “That’s no problem at all.”
She nods and takes the ring from me gently, disappearing to find a box for it while I pull out my credit card.
Twelve thousand dollars for a ring. Two months ago that would have seemed insane to me, an extravagance I couldn’t justify no matter how much I loved someone.
But standing here now, thinking about the look on Emma’s face when she opens that box, it feels like the bargain of a lifetime.
The woman returns with the ring nestled in a green velvet box and she wraps it carefully in tissue paper before sliding it into a small bag with the store’s logo embossed in gold.
I sign the receipt and thank her, and she wishes me luck with a smile that says she’s seen a thousand nervous men stand where I’m standing, about to take the biggest leap of their lives.
Outside, the afternoon sun is bright and the air is crisp. I take the ring box out of the bag as soon as the door closes behind me and slip it into my jacket pocket, feeling the weight of it against my chest like a second heartbeat.
My car is parked down the block, and I walk toward it with determination settling into my bones. Emma asked for space to think and I gave her that, two weeks of it, the longest two weeks of my life. And I’m done waiting. I’m done letting her convince herself she’s not right for us.
I get in my car and sit there for a moment with my hands on the steering wheel.
Through the windshield I can see the water in the distance, gray-blue and restless, the same water I’ve looked at my whole life.
Everything is about to change. I start the engine and pull out of the parking spot, heading toward Emma’s apartment.
Emma
The KidStream documents are spread across my kitchen table, financial reports and content proposals and organizational charts that blur together the longer I stare at them.
I ended up staying in Seattle an extra night to spend more time with my sisters, not just going over business strategy but actually catching up on each other’s lives for the first time in years.
We ordered takeout and sat on Sophie’s living room floor and talked until two in the morning about everything and nothing, about Mom and Dad and childhood memories and the futures we’re all trying to build.
It was so good. The kind of sisterly closeness I didn’t realize I’d been missing until I had it back.
On the drive home my mind kept drifting to the educational initiatives we discussed, the plans to restore what our parents originally created. I won’t be there in Seattle running things day to day, but I can still have an impact from here.
I can help shape curriculum, review content, make sure the programming actually helps kids learn instead of just hooking them on dopamine hits. The thought fills me with a sense of purpose I haven’t felt about the family business in years.
But at this moment, I’m mostly staring at these papers to distract myself from what I actually need to do. I press my hand against my stomach, still flat but hiding a secret that changes everything.
“What do you think, little bean?” I whisper, the nickname slipping out naturally. A surge of love washes through me, fierce and overwhelming, for this tiny life I didn’t plan but already can’t imagine not wanting.
I got home this morning and I’ve been debating ever since how to reach out to Theo.
What do I even say? Hey, so about that space I asked for—in my time to think I’ve realized that I made a terrible mistake and also by the way I’m pregnant with your baby.
I let out a groan and drop my head into my hands.
How on earth do I tell him? And god forbid he actually tells me he doesn’t want to be together anymore.
That during these two weeks of space he realized I was right to walk away, that it’s too complicated with Victoria and Chloe, that he’s better off without me making everything messier than it needs to be.
The thought makes my stomach turn over in a way that has nothing to do with morning sickness.
I pick up my phone for the hundredth time, Theo’s contact pulled up on the screen. Just text him. Ask if he can come over. Tell him everything. My thumbs hover over the keyboard. Can we talk? I need to tell you something.
Before I can hit send, there’s a knock at my door. I freeze, my heart stuttering. I’m not expecting anyone. Sophie’s still in Seattle, and the only person who ever just shows up unannounced is—
I cross to the door on unsteady legs and look through the peephole.
Theo.
He’s standing in my hallway looking determined and nervous and so unbearably handsome.
My hand shakes as I undo the lock and pull the door open.
He’s here. He’s actually here. And the look on his face when he sees me, the way his expression softens and his eyes drink me in like he’s been starving for the sight of me, makes me want to throw myself into his arms right then and there.
“I need to talk to you,” he says. “Can I come in?”
I step back wordlessly, not trusting my voice, and he walks past me into the apartment.
I’ve missed him so desperately it’s been like a physical ache, and now he’s here right in front of me, looking as gorgeous as ever.
The door clicks shut behind us and we’re standing in my small living room, close enough to touch, but not touching.
“I know you wanted space,” he starts, and his brown eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
“I know you asked for time to think about what’s best for Chloe.
And I gave you that. But I can’t do it anymore, Emma.
I can’t sit around waiting while you convince yourself you’re not enough when you’re everything. ”
I open my mouth to respond, but he keeps going, the words tumbling out.