Chapter 3 #2
“That’s nice.” I put my tools down and give up on the piece I wanted to tweak, deciding it’ll be better to do it after I close the shop today. This woman is a distraction for mere mortals like myself. “Did she say if she’ll be here this month gracing us with her presence?”
“She did and she won’t be.”
I don’t bother to look at her. She knows I’m beyond being disappointed by her now.
My mother hasn’t really been around for much, ever.
She’s a Consular Officer in Mumbai, I think.
I lose track of where she goes, she’s been doing this for so long.
It’s a lifestyle, and for her, one that having a daughter didn’t fit into.
Let’s just say, she could adapt to any administration—but not to being my mom. And that’s a difficult pill to swallow.
“Well, that’s the life of a rockstar, I guess,” I say flippantly. Best defense is to act like you’re fine, right?
My grandmother makes a small sound under her breath, something between a sigh and a hum. But she doesn’t push. She knows better than to poke at that particular bruise. Instead, she shuts the safe with a firm click and straightens, brushing her hands together like she’s finished something important.
“Well,” she says, glancing at the clock, “I’ve done my part for the morning. Bridge club waits for no one.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I say dryly. “The stakes are far too high.”
“They are,” she shoots back. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I smile as she reaches for her bag and slips it over her shoulder. “Don’t forget to actually sell something today,” she adds, like I haven’t been doing exactly that for years.
“I’ll do my best.”
“And don’t let anyone talk you into a discount.”
“I never do.”
She gives me a look that says she absolutely thinks I do.
“Go—” I wave her off. “Before you’re late and Larry replaces you with someone more likely to order a caramel macchiato twice a day.”
She sniffs. “No one replaces me.”
“They might for whipped cream and sprinkles.”
But she’s smiling as she heads for the door, flipping her hand in a wave as she leaves. The door closes behind her and I can’t help but feel like a small tornado has passed, leaving me as its one and only very lucky survivor.
I exhale, rolling my shoulders once before turning back to the bench. This is the part I like. Before customers. Before questions. Before the day starts moving too fast.
I pick up the piece I abandoned earlier, studying it for a second before reaching for my tools.
The metal catches the light just right, and for a moment, everything else fades—the calendar, the conversation, the lingering irritation I don’t feel like unpacking.
It’s just me and the work. Steady. Familiar. Mine.
The bell above the door jingles again.
“Give me one second,” I call, adjusting the angle of the clasp, my focus still locked in place.
There’s a pause, just long enough to register that whoever walked in hasn’t said anything yet.
Then, “Wow,” a familiar voice says, easy and curious. “You weren’t kidding about this place. It is gorgeous.”
That gets my attention. I glance up—and freeze.
Emma, the bride I’ve been expecting, stands just inside the door and waves at me, all smiles and sunshine. However, it’s her companion that pulls the rug out from under me.
I know those lips.
Ty’s right behind her and taking in the shop like he’s cataloging every detail. For a second, my brain tries to catch up to what I’m seeing, and then it immediately veers off in the wrong direction.
Wait. Emma is here for wedding rings. Emma brought Ty. Ty is standing in my shop.
Oh my God.
No. No, no, no.
I don’t remember Emma ever saying who the rings were for, but surely, surely—I would have known if it was him. That feels like something I would have remembered. Which means…
Did I kiss my client’s fiancé?
My stomach drops somewhere near my workbench. There is no version of this where that’s acceptable. None.
I straighten slowly, very aware of both of them watching me now, and paste on a smile that feels about as stable as a house built on sand.
“Hi,” I say, like this is normal. Like everything is fine. So fine.
“Hey,” Emma says, warm and easy as ever. “It’s so good to see you again, Vivian. Ty, this is—”
“We’ve already met,” he says, cutting her off. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. Not even a little.
“Right,” I say quickly, nodding like this is all completely casual. “Yes. We’ve met. We know a lot of the same people.”
“And you kissed me the other morning,” he adds.
Emma chokes. Actually chokes, but I one-up her when my jaw smacks the floor.
“What?” she coughs, looking between us like she’s just been dropped into the middle of a conversation she did not consent to, much like Ty and my great big kiss.
I keep my smile in place through sheer force of will. “You know…sometimes there’s an emergency, and things happen.”
“Do they?” Emma asks, eyes wide.
Ty glances at her, completely unbothered. How can he be so relaxed? “Apparently, if you stand still long enough outside your building, you become part of someone else’s emergency exit plan.”
I exhale, just barely. “In my defense, it was a very specific situation.”
“I gathered.”
Emma looks between us again, still trying to piece it together. “I’m sorry—what situation involves that as a solution?”
I hold up my hands, wanting nothing more than for a hole to open up and suck me into it. My grandmother is going to kill me. This is more than a scandal; this is gossip-column-worthy material, folks.
I do what I need to do as a business owner, and I slip into grovel mode.
“Emma, no situation needed me to kiss your fiancé as a solution.” I feel my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
Seriously, I want to disappear. If I had a magic wand, I’d circle it around myself and make a burning circle for a black hole so I could be swallowed inside it.
“I’m so sorry. I had no clue. I would not have picked his lips of all the lips in the whole wide world, if I had known… ”
Emma’s expression shifts first. For a second, she’s still trying to process, her brows pulling together as her gaze flicks between me and Ty like she’s lining something up that isn’t quite clicking.
Then it does. Her mouth opens, closes, and twists like she’s trying to hold it together, but she doesn’t last long.
The laugh spills out of her, bright and immediate, her hand coming up as she shakes her head. “Oh my…no.”
Ty lets out a quieter laugh beside her, dragging a hand across the back of his neck. When he looks at me again, there’s amusement there now, clear and unmistakable, like he’s enjoying this more than he should.
“He’s my brother.” Emma points between us, still laughing. “My actual brother. I brought him because we’re hanging out today. That’s it.”
Relief hits fast and a little too strong.
“Oh,” I say, letting out a breath I definitely shouldn’t have been holding. “Good. That’s—so, so good.”
Emma’s grin widens. “You thought I was engaged to him?”
“I didn’t know what to think,” I admit. “Considering my grandmother was the one who took the measurements, I’ve never even met your fiancé.”
Ty’s mouth tips slightly at the corner. “I feel like I should be offended.”
“You shouldn’t,” I shoot back. “I was clearly having a moment.”
“Clear as mud, but thanks for letting me know now.”
Emma laughs again, lighter now, stepping further into the shop. “Wow. Okay. This is already better than I expected when I walked in.”
“Happy to entertain,” I mutter, before clapping my hands lightly once as I move behind the counter, grateful for something I actually know how to handle. “Let’s get you set up before anything else unexpected happens.”
“Please,” Emma says, still smiling as she leans against the glass case. “I feel like I’ve already had enough surprises for one morning.”
“You and me both.”
I pull the correct box from the lineup, flipping it open with practiced ease before setting it carefully on the counter between us. The rings catch the light immediately—simple, elegant, exactly what she’d asked for.
Emma’s expression softens the second she sees them. “Oh,” she breathes, reaching out. “They’re even better than I remembered.”
“That’s usually the goal,” I say, watching as she picks up her ring.
She slides it onto her finger slowly, her movements more deliberate now, like the moment has settled into something quieter, something that matters. It fits perfectly.
Her face lights up. “It’s stunning. I love it.”
“Good,” I say, a small smile pulling at my mouth. “I’d hate to have to start over.”
Ty leans in beside her, looking down at the box. “So this is Dan’s?”
“Yep. That one’s the groom’s.”
He reaches for it before I can say anything, picking it up and turning it between his fingers like he’s assessing it. “Solid. Simple. I like it.”
“High praise,” I reply.
“Careful,” Emma adds, glancing at him. “That one actually belongs to someone.”
“Duh,” he says, nudging her with his elbow. And then, because of course he does, he slides it onto his finger.
I watch it happen in real time, my brain catching up about half a second too late. “Ty—”
It goes on without any issue. Easily. Too easily.
He glances down at his hand, flexing his fingers once like he’s testing the fit. “Huh.”
“That’s not—” I try again. “It’s not made for your hand.”
“It’s fine,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Well, take it off before you smudge it with your single-guy juju, please,” Emma jokes as he tugs at it.
Nothing.
His brow furrows slightly. He twists it once, then again, a little more force this time. Still nothing.
Emma leans in, immediately catching on. “It’s not stuck, right?”
“It’s fine,” he says, a little too quickly, giving it another pull. Yet, it does not move. At all.
I press my lips together, very aware that I am watching a grown man, a professional athlete, get stuck in a situation he absolutely created for himself. “Ty, that ring was not sized for you.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, still working at it. “I’m getting that.”
Emma is no longer even pretending to be helpful, her expression alternating between amused and horrified. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not kidding,” he says, a little tighter this time, twisting again. Nothing.
I step forward, already reaching for the small bottle of solution I keep nearby. “Okay. Don’t panic.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You’re definitely panicking.”
“I’m not panic—” He stops, looks at me. “Okay, maybe a little.”
Emma laughs outright. “You’re really stuck.”
“I’m not stuck.”
“It’s probably because I had soy sauce last night.” He pulls again. The ring does not move. “It always bloats me.”
I hold out my hand while his sister snickers. “Give me your hand.”
He looks at me.
“Before you make it worse.” I raise my brows. “Please.”
He hesitates for half a second, then holds it out. I take it, steadying his hand as I glance up at him briefly. “You’re not the first person this has happened to.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It shouldn’t,” Emma says cheerfully.
I shake my head. “Next time, maybe don’t try on someone else’s wedding ring.”
“I’ll take that on board.”
I twist the ring gently. It doesn’t budge. I try again, a little more carefully this time, but it stays exactly where it is. I pause, then look up at him. He looks back at me, and for the first time since he walked in, there’s a flicker of something that might actually be concern.
“Okay,” I say slowly, “now we might have a problem.”