Page 285 of Come Back to Me

“If you want me to.”

She taps her bottom lip with her pointer finger. “Titanium. Black. With a single black diamond in the middle of the plain band.”

“If you insist.”

“Lines on it. Like a staff. With notes I pick.”

“Anything, baby girl.”

Her shoulders sag, then they straighten as she stares at the ring propped between my fingertips. “Oh, it’s so lovely.”

Whatitis, is a battered platinum band with a tiny diamond in the center.

“I know it’s not the bigg— but it’s my nanna’s.” My throat works. “On my mum’s side. I-I really loved her.”

She snatches the ring from my fingers, not answering as she sighs in delight, thumb stroking over the thin band.

“Tee? Where are you?!” Zee shrieks. “This freakin’ glue is making me claustrophobic!”

“Susanne Felicia McAllister Korhonen, butt out!” Tee yells back. “I’m being proposed to over here!”

The proposal is as chaotic as I knew it’d be, and if she’d just put the damn ring on, it’d be perfect.

“What?” Zee hollers, but I can hear thudding as she runs into the main room of the suite. Gasping when she sees me, she scuttles over to the door and demands of her best friend, “Well?! Did you say yes? Of course you said yes. You said yes, right?!”

Ignoring my unusually discombobulated sister-in-law, Tee peeps a grin at me. “You’d trust me to wear this?”

Unsure if she hates it, I offer, “I can get you a different one?—”

“Shut up. Stop ruining it. You trust me with your nanna’s ring?”

Ah, fuck.

If my heart wasn’t already hers, it is now.

She gets it.

“Of course. I trust you with me, Tee.” I plant a hand against my chest. “Why wouldn’t I trust you with my nanna’s ring?”

She licks her lips. “You know I love you.”

“Yes. I do. You know I love you too. And I know that we don’t have to get married to be together, but?—”

“I want people to know,” she blurts out.

Relief has me sagging. “You do?”

“I told Mom today.” Her chin juts out. “I want people to know you’re mine too. And I want them to know that I’m not with you for your money. More importantly, I want you to know that.”

“I never thought you were?—”

“Your money’s nice,” she assures me, tone kind, “but I’d prefer to be my own rich husband.”

I hide a smile. “We’ll work on that.”

“I want to make music.”

“I want that too.”

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