Chapter 49
Chapter forty-nine
Cam
Kinsey stares at me over her coffee like I’ve just told her I’m running for president.
“You’re serious?” she asks, straw poised midair. “You want me to help you pick out an engagement ring for Kate?”
“Yes, please?” I say, as calm as I can manage. “I want to get her something to represent my love for her. These plain bands don’t feel right anymore.”
Kinsey lets out a long, slow whistle. “The same Kate Prescott who alphabetizes her pantry and once made me check my drink for condensation before handing it to her over a library book?”
I smirk. “That’d be the one.”
“Cam Wells,” she says, shaking her head. “You’ve got it bad.”
“No one is denying that.”
Her grin widens. “Coach Wells, taken down by the town librarian. God, I live for this sort of stuff.”
I finish the last of my coffee and stand. “Are you coming or not?”
She grabs her purse. “Heck yeah I am.”
Kinsey and I decided it would be best to go out of town, out of Haddie’s camera reach, to shop for the ring. After a quick Google search on the drive to Roanoke, we’re walking into a jewelry store that has an overwhelming amount of options. There’s a bell over the door, and it chimes as we walk in.
The woman behind the counter greets us with a smile. “Looking for something special?”
Kinsey gestures toward me. “He’s asking a librarian whose favorite book is Wuthering Heights to marry him. We need something with drama.”
The woman blinks, then laughs. “Got it.”
I start down the glass case as the woman points out options, scanning the neat rows of glittering rings. Most are too modern, too polished. Kate’s not the kind of woman who wants something flashy—she wants meaning. Something with history, something that feels lived in.
Kinsey leans close to one case. “Ooh, look at this one! Rose gold, double band, kind of vintage.”
I take one look and shake my head. “Too perfect. She’d be scared to wear it.”
“Fine,” she mutters. “Tough crowd.”
The jeweler pulls out a few more. I try to picture them on Kate’s hand—her slender fingers, always organizing something or holding a mug of tea—but none of them feel right. Too cold. Too new.
The jeweler studies me for a second, then disappears into the back. “Wait here. I think I know exactly what you’re after.”
When she returns, she’s carrying a small velvet box that looks older than everything else in the case. She sets it in front of me and opens it.
The ring is perfect—an oval diamond set in a curved gold band, flanked by two tiny sapphires. It’s vintage, a little worn around the edges, with that faint glow of something that’s lived a few lifetimes already.
Kinsey gasps. “Oh, that’s her. This ring looks like it has stories to tell.”
The jeweler smiles. “It’s from the fourties. The husband was a pilot—bought it for his wife when he came home from overseas.”
I hold it between my fingers, tracing the band. “This is the one.”
Kinsey nods, wiping at her eye dramatically. “If I weren’t me, I’d cry.”
“Pretty sure you already are,” I say.
She sniffs, glaring. “It’s allergies.”
The jeweler boxes up the ring, and just as I’m about to hand over my card, something in the display beside me catches my eye—a silver bracelet, small, with a single charm shaped like a star.
It reminds me of Evie. Tiny, bright, full of energy she can’t contain.
I point to it. “Can you add that too?”
Kinsey tilts her head. “For Kate?”
I shake my head. “For Evie. She should have something too.”
For once, Kinsey’s smart mouth goes completely quiet. She just watches as the jeweler boxes the bracelet, her voice a little rough when she says, “You’re setting the bar too high for the rest of us, Wells.”
I shrug, pocketing both boxes. “She’s a child who deserves to know she matters. That she’s part of this too.”
Kinsey sniffs again, blinking fast. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Still allergies?” I tease.
“Obviously,” she says, brushing at her lashes. “Shut up and let me cry in peace.”
I can already picture Kate’s face when she sees the ring—how she’ll try to hide the way it hits her, how her fingers will hover like she’s afraid to touch it. And I can picture Evie’s grin when she opens the bracelet box, wide and toothy and perfect.
This ring is about choosing each other. It’s not a solution or a bandaid to help. I want to ask her properly, I want to get on one knee and show the world that Kate is mine.
We finish up with the payment and the sales person hands me a black bag with gold letters. Walking to the truck, Kinsey punches my arm.
“Ouch! What was that for?” I frown, tucking the bag against me.
“That—” Kinsey walks ahead a step. “Was for making my allergies act up.”