Page 134 of Check & Chase
He runs a hand through his hair. “Because I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About the kind of person I want to be. And I’m not proud of who I’ve been these past few years.”
There’s a rawness to his voice that catches me off guard.
“I see how you are with Emma. How you treat her. How you look at her. And I realize I never did that. Not with her, not with anyone. I treated people like they were disposable.”
“Including Carina?”
He winces. “Especially Carina. We broke up, by the way. For real this time. After she showed up here making a scene.”
I’m not surprised.
“Anyway, I just wanted to clear the air. We’re teammates. And I’d like to think maybe someday we could be not enemies, at least.”
I consider his words, weighing them against our history. There’s something genuine in his apology that’s hard to dismiss.
“We’re good.” I extend my hand. “Clean slate.”
Relief washes over his face as he shakes my hand.
“Just one thing,” I warn. “If you ever hurt Emma again, any way, shape, or form, all bets are off. Understood?”
His expression sobers. “Completely. For what it’s worth, I think you’re exactly what she needs. What she deserves.”
Hours later, I find myself in the passenger seat of Maya’s car, navigating through downtown Pinewood toward the jewelry district.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, palms sweating despite the air conditioning.
Maya gives me a look that clearly questions my intelligence. “Am I sureEmma will want a ring from her fake-turned-real boyfriend after you’ve barely been dating? Maybe. Am I sure you’re going to ask her anyway, because you’re a ridiculous romantic? Absolutely.”
I can’t argue with her assessment. It is fast, lightning fast by normal standards. But nothing about my relationship with Emma has followed a conventional timeline.
“It doesn’t mean we have to get married right away. It’s just a promise. A statement of intent.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” she assures. “I’m Team Chase, remember? Now let’s go find a ring that will make my best friend ugly cry when you propose.”
The jewelry store is upscale but not intimidating. A saleswoman approaches as soon as we enter, her eyes widening slightly with recognition.
“Mr. Mitchell, how can we help you today?”
“Engagement rings,” Maya answers for me. “Something unique but not flashy. Classic with a twist.”
For the next hour, we examine what feels like hundreds of rings. Each beautiful in its own way, but none of them screaming “Emma” to me.
“What about this one?” Sandra suggests, presenting a ring with an emerald-cut diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller stones.
I shake my head. “Too ornate. Emma’s style is simpler.”
“But not boring,” Maya adds. “She likes things with character.”
Sandra disappears into a back room, returning with a small velvet box. “This just came in yesterday. It’s vintage, 1920s. The center stone is a European-cut diamond, about one carat, with small emeralds on either side.”
She opens the box, and both Maya and I lean forward. The ring is stunning, elegant yet distinctive, with delicate filigree work along the platinum band and bright green emeralds that catch the light.
“Those are the exact color of her eyes,” Maya murmurs.
“They are,” I agree, already imagining it on Emma’s finger. “I’ll take it.”
As we complete the purchase, Maya’s phone buzzes with a text. She checks it, her eyes widening.
