Page 124 of The Way We Score

“Come on, Liv. Apparently I’m a bad dad if I don’t give you a push present.” Tilting my head, I act disappointed. “Are you trying to make me a bad dad?”

Her lips tighten against the smile trying to break out, and her pretty, pretty hazel eyes mist. “I would never do that. It would be impossible.”

“Then get in here.” I take her hand, leading her into the iconic jewelry store.

It’s a surprisingly low-key establishment. Other than the stunning arched windows lining the walls, it’s just a large roomfull of glass cases arranged around the center. Clerks stand behind them wearing suits and smiles, and I lead her up to the closest one.

“How may I help you today?” The man almost sounds British, he’s so formal.

“We’re looking for an assortment of gifts for my lady here.” I motion to Liv.

“An assortment?” She leans into me, hissing a whisper.

“It’s for what you might call a push present.” I use a fancy accent when I say it—two can play at this game. “But I want it to be a surprise.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I don’t want her to know exactly what she’s going to get, so I’d like her to pick several things for me to choose from.”

“Very smart.” His expression is placid. “How would you like to proceed?”

Leaning my arm on the glass case (yes, I see him wince), I look up at Liv. “Would it be possible for her to walk around and note the items she likes, then you can give me the list?”

“Absolutely.”

“Garrett.” Liv’s expression is flat. “I can’t walk around pointing out things.”

“Sure you can. Put a Post-it on whatever makes you happy.”

Her eyes narrow, and I swear, I love this woman. She’s the same girl I fell in love with in ninth grade, but with so much more strength and a little edge. I love that she keeps me on my toes.

“Do it.” I wave my hands at her. “I’ll just sit over here scrolling social media.”

“I thought we were having brunch.” She leans closer.

“Mr… Statler is it? Would Tiffany's happen to have a snack for my lady? To help her concentrate.”

“Indeed, we do.” He motions to a minion standing at the back, who quickly steps forward. “Snack.”

“Yes, sir.” It’s ahushed whisper.

Liv is furnished with a tiny box of robin’s-egg blue macarons. She takes one out and bites it carefully.

“It’s vanilla!”

“Tiffany vanilla, Miss,” the kid supplies with a smile.

She ducks forward, covering her nose with her fingers. “Thank you.”

Liv wanders away, and I motion to Statler. “Be sure she picks out a diamond ring in her size. Something I can pick up this week.”

I give him a wink, and he places his finger on the side of his nose. Then I walk over and sit in a gold, satin-covered chair and pull out my phone.

A half-hour later, we’re at the door. Statler emails me the list of her choices, including item numbers and colors, and I scan it quickly, looking for rings. I’m happy to see she picked out a few oversized statement rings and one delicate square-shaped diamond with smaller diamonds down the sides of the band. It’s simple and elegant, just like Liv.

I give the clerk a brief salute. “See you soon, Stat.”

“Yes, sir.” He withdraws as formally as he appeared.

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