Chapter Fifty-Seven
Liam
“Hey, what are you doing?” Rhys says as I pore over the ring designs one morning.
“Working,” I say without looking up from the drafts spread out on his dining table.
“London texted you twice.” He taps my phone screen.
“I know. Don’t you have to go to work?” I know it’s well past his usual departure time. Max already left with Angelo.
“You owe her a date. And she isn’t even asking you to plan anything. She just wants you to show up!”
“Work?” I say pointedly, my eyes glued to the top two designs.
And Rhys ignores me. “What could be so important?” He looks over my drafts. “Rings? A special commission?” He squints. “For Barron Sterling? I heard he’s looking for something exceptional for his girlfriend.”
I grunt. The man probably wants something “grand” to propose to his girlfriend with. I respect him for dating someone his age rather than some jailbait bimbo, even though every young thing fawns over him.
Rhys grows thoughtful. “I should ask you to design something for Max—”
“Shhh! Go to work! Make more money or you won’t be able to keep her in the style to which she’s become accustomed, then she’ll have to divorce you and write you off for a billion bucks wasted. Might even be able to claim a loss carryover if her CPA is clever.”
Rhys glares at me. “Weren’t you the one who told me I work too hard?”
“That was before.” Before he started to get into my business.
“I’m taking a day off to take care of Max.”
“And yet she isn’t even here.”
“London?” he says again.
I finally lift my head and glare at him. “Are you trying to get me to date her?”
Rhys blinks at my aggrieved tone.
“I’m married. I’m staying faithful to my wife.”
“Yeah, except you’re here, and your wife is…” He points in a random direction.
My mouth flattens. “I’m working on it.” I look back at the designs.
Mike said we just created an extraordinary rock: a twenty-six-carat yellow diamond.
As soon as I saw the photo, my heart screamed this is it—the stone I envisioned when Olivia walked into Kingswood Stones & Designs.
The starburst ring I thought would be perfect for her, except now… I might not have a wife to give it to.
Might? You mean won’t. Soon, Prescott’s going to call and say, “Sign the divorce agreement, Liam.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as a headache starts.
“Stop working. You have to say yes to the date with London. You know you owe her one.”
I lift my head and stare as Max walks into the house. “Didn’t you go to work? I saw you leave with Angelo.”
“Nope. Went to the store because the baby wants Hershey’s Kisses.”
I look away, guilt gnawing at me. Does Olivia have any special cravings? She hasn’t texted in a couple of days. Maybe she’s gotten over the initial shock and tiny bit of guilt or something. By now she’s probably back to her old self—independent and brilliant.
My eyes drift to the picture of the diamond.
My heart throbs. I’m scared she’ll just end things because she has no reason to keep me.
But I can’t just give up. She hasn’t served me with divorce papers.
If I don’t attempt one last-ditch effort to convince her to give us a chance, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.
Pride? Fuck that. I’d trade anything—everything—to have Olivia’s love.
“He says he’s married and can’t have this date with London,” Rhys says, ratting me out. “He doesn’t care about the veterans the auction was designed to help.”
“That isn’t what I said—”
“You know she’s going to want her money back. The woman isn’t stupid.” Max crosses her arms.
I give her a look.
Rhys, of course, sides with Max. “Just go and have dinner together. Then you’re done.”
“You just had lunch with Olivia. Can’t believe you want me to backstab her,” I grumble to Max.
“Oh, for—No one’s asking you to sleep with the woman! Just make sure you hold up your end of the bargain. Men who don’t keep their word are not attractive. I know, because I have a father like that. And an ex.”
Rhys pats her shoulder. “Their loss, Freckles. Their loss.”
I grind my teeth. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go.” I pick up my phone and text the pesky woman.
–Me: Hey, give me a time and date, and I’ll be there. But let’s keep it short because I’m married. I don’t want my wife to get any wrong ideas.
I flip the screen and flash the message at Rhys and Max. “There. Happy now?”
“Yeah,” Max says.
They exchange relieved glances—which is weird, but whatever. I go back to my ring designs.