Page 48 of Lace 'em Up

A farce I can’t allow to continue.

Dammit.

And I really like Mama Bang.

“Stella,” I begin.

“Where’s your ring?” she asks like she plucked the word from my mind. “I’d love to see it.” She reaches for my hand. “My King has great taste. I bet he did really good.”

I freeze.

Because, swear to God, this woman has mind reading abilities.

I think ring, she fixates on ring.

Either that, or a ring is the next obvious conversational topic that comes when discussing an engagement.

Even a fake one.

A throb begins in my temple.

Right.

This has clearly gone too far.

Stella’s a nice woman and I need to come clean.

Only when I open my mouth to tell her that my ring is at my ex’s house because I couldn’t stand the sight of it on my finger, didn’t want the reminder of Phillip—even though I could have sold it for a pretty penny—King beats me to the punch.

“It’s getting resized, Mom,” he says.

“Oh.” The disappointment in her tone slices through me and I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to resist channeling my Big Daddy vibes?—

Can you get the kid a Happy Meal? Somebody get the kid a Happy Meal!

Can you get the MIL an engagement ring? Somebody get the MIL an engagement ring!

“Stella—”

She spins toward me, moving across the kitchen with speed despite her little legs, sweeping me into another hug that has my insides shuddering.

Such a beautiful feeling to be held like this.

King can’t possibly know how lucky he is.

“I saw the dress bag,” she whispers. “But I didn’t peek.” Then she winces, her cheeks going pink. “Okay, I had a little peek. A tiny peek.” A glance over her shoulder, voice dropping so that King can’t hear. “That lace on the top is absolutely beautiful.”

My heart squeezes.

Hard.

Because—

“That’s my favorite part too.”

Her face is gentle. “I can’t wait to see it.”

A lance of pain.

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