Chapter 20
Regrets and Diamond Rings
Vivian
I was today years old when I found out that falling in love can literally cause brain damage.
I’m certain of it because it is happening to me, right now, as I stand in Tiffany’s, trying to focus on what we’re supposed to be doing (which is making a video of Dominic and me choosing the perfect ring).
Normally, this type of thing would be no problem.
I’ve literally recorded thousands of these types of videos.
I’m a pro. People love working with me because I’m focused, and I get in and out fast, allowing them to get on with their day.
I’m not some secretly insecure diva who requires four hours of lighting adjustments (like someone else I know who luvs luxury) before the camera turns on.
I’m Vivian Whitlock—business-like, friendly, sharp, and on top of shit.
Only since I made the catastrophic mistake of seeking out Ben two nights ago so I could—well let’s face it—take advantage of him (totally would have gone for it right there if he hadn’t put the brakes on), I can’t think of anything else for more than about thirty seconds at a time.
Suddenly that term ‘kiss me senseless’ makes a whole lot of sense.
The only time I’ve managed to do anything somewhat productive was on the flight here, when I was working away on my project for Ben.
Although I did spend an inordinate amount of time rewatching the videos of him using a saw from behind.
Like honestly, I bet I lost a good hour replaying a thirty second clip where you can see his tricep flex.
One whole hour, most of that when I climbed into my bed last night. I’ve lost it. Completely and utterly.
I thought I’d be so happy to get back to New York.
I was so sure that when the plane touched down, I’d be cheering inside.
Home again, at last. Back to the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps, where you can get anything you want to eat or drink at all hours of the night, where you can step into a store to find all the best brands in the world.
Night clubs, coffee shops, hot yoga classes (okay, I only did one once—thought I was going to suffocate and left with a migraine).
But Central Park… Aah, Central Park. I love it.
It’s my happy place. Well, it used to be, anyway.
Now all I want to do is get back to Santa Valentina and be on the beach with Ben and Henry.
I miss them both. It’s a physical version of the feeling, like my chest is being crushed or something. What the hell is wrong with me?
Whatever it is, I better get over it, like right now, because I’ve got important shit to do and I am failing. Thank God Dominic is such a pro. He’s been keeping the Tiffany’s rep, Seth, entertained while Frank sets up the lighting and I fumble with my lip liner. Why are my hands so shaky?
Dominic is loving NYC, by the way. He’s got that wide-eyed excitement I had when I came here for the first time.
It’s impossible not to be overwhelmed by the busyness, the height of the buildings, the dazzling lights and screens of Times Square.
We took a walk down there last night and went for supper, then strolled along where all the famous theaters are.
He was so thrilled, he got teary-eyed. It was very sweet, and caused me to double my resolve.
I have to make this work, for his sake. Dominic needs this.
“Hey, Earth to Vivian,” Frank says, snapping his fingers in my face.
“What?”
He stares at me. “Okay, I wasn’t going to say anything, but I have to ask in case I need to look for a new job. Are you on drugs?”
“What? No!”
Narrowing his eyes, he says, “You can tell me the truth, Vivian. My sister’s husband’s brother works at a very nice rehab facility. I can probably get you in there by the weekend.”
Lowering my voice, I speak slowly so he’ll understand. “I don’t need rehab. I’m not taking drugs.”
“Well, something’s wrong with you because you’ve been totally checked out since we left for the airport in San Felipe,” he tells me.
I shake my head, hoping that’ll snap me out of my love fog.
(It doesn’t.) “I’m just a little distracted because there’s so much going on right now, and there’s a lot of pressure on me to nail this.
” I pause and look him straight in the eye, hoping he’ll believe me.
What I said is all true, but it’s not the actual reason I’ve suddenly turned into a moron. “Okay?”
“Fine. But I think you’re lying through your teeth, and if you change your mind about the rehab, let me know sooner than later because it’s actually quite hard to get in there and I’m pretty sure I wildly overstated my ability to get you in that fast.”
Seth and Dominic walk over to us, both looking extremely pleased.
I’ve had several occasions to work with Seth over the years.
He really knows his stuff and is terrific on camera.
He’s originally from Germany and has a biting sense of humor that my fans love.
He’s in his late thirties, is always impeccably dressed, and I swear he wears a wig because I’ve never seen his blond hair look like it’s grown so much as a quarter of an inch.
“All right, my dear girl, are you ready to see the rock?”
It’s been selected ahead of time by the management at Tiffany’s, so he’s showing it to us now so we can ‘find it’ on camera. I nod and smile, doing my best to seem excited, even though inside, I feel like I’m dying. “Ooh yes!”
He holds the box shut and says, “Keep in mind our goal is to totally reinvent the engagement ring. White diamonds are so out. As is anything under ten carats. Totally gone off our radar.”
My heart sinks a little. This is going to be tacky. I know it, he knows it, and he knows I’ll hate it. But it’s not like I have a choice in the matter. Whatever is in that little box is going to be on my left hand for years to come. I swallow hard. “Sounds wonderful.”
“When we’re filming, we want to use key phrases like gorgeous, timeless yet ahead of its time, utterly modern, and in style. If you forget, I’ll prompt you.” He opens the box.
Annndd … it’s awful.
Beyond awful.
It’s the most garish thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
It screams I HAVE NO TASTE!!! for the whole world to hear.
It’s a massive pink marquis cut diamond that’s been rounded on the ends.
It looks like an homage to cocktail wieners.
An involuntary puff of air that doubles as a groan escapes my chest, and I have to quickly turn it into a happy sound, so now it seems like I’ve just downed an entire bottle of ecstasy and have completely lost control of my faculties.
“Wow,” I manage finally. “That is … a really, very … it’s so big and so pink. ”
Seth lowers his voice, his German accent coming out a little more. “Okay, between us, it’s awful. I hate it, and I can tell you hate it too, but … it is what it is. We need to change the styles or people will…” He gestures with one hand. “Pass down their family diamonds, and we’ll all be screwed.”
“Right, yeah, I get it,” I say, wishing Ben were here to see this. Although it’s probably better that he isn’t because we’d be in a laughing heap on the floor right now.
Dominic lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, thank God you both see it because I thought I was the only one and that maybe you were insane or something.”
“No, we see it,” I answer, wrinkling up my nose.
“It would be hard to miss,” Frank says. “Looks like a shiny little dildo from here.”
Dominic bursts out laughing, doubling over at the waist, while Seth and I stay perfectly still because his boss is watching from across the showroom floor. I elbow Dominic and whisper, “Hey, we’re being watched. We have to pull it together here.”
He stands, tears streaming down his face, and gets himself under control. “Sorry. Sorry. I just feel so bad for you. You’re going to have to wear that for the rest of your life.”
“Yup,” I squeak. “Lucky me.”
It’s late in the evening and I am beyond exhausted and yet am somehow totally wired at the same time.
This whole being in love thing is absolutely the shits.
I am never going to do this again. I’m curled up on my lovely green velvet couch under a cozy blanket sipping tea while I work on Ben’s website.
Oh Ben, my gorgeous, manly, sexy, sexy Ben. Why can’t you be my groom?
Dominic is out on a date—with Seth. They really hit it off, and we agreed that if they make it look like they’re just friends (i.e.
no obvious public displays of affection), it should be fine.
Seth’s taking him to see Wicked, then they’re going to Spot for dessert after.
Honestly, I know we should be extremely careful about him dating men until after he’s got his green card, but he’s also beyond excited about getting out and exploring Manhattan (and Wicked?
Hello! He literally let out a giant sob when he found out Seth got the tickets).
Plus, I’m far too wiped and busy to be his guide.
I can’t take that experience away from the guy. Not with everything he’s doing for me.
I sit back and close my eyes for a second, Ben’s face immediately flooding my brain.
The smell of him—soap and sandalwood, the feel of his body pressed against mine, the way he kissed me.
My God, but I want to be kissed like that every day and night for the rest of my life.
My phone buzzes and I look down to see Paige’s face across the screen.
I swipe to answer the video call. “Hey, girl!” I say, trying to seem like everything is fine.
“How’s the Big Apple? Is it wonderful to be back home?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s … the same as ever,” I answer vaguely.
“How’d it go today?”