Page 52 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
“I like these.” I told the designer. “Can you tell me a little about the backs?”
“Yes, sir. I use surgical-steel screw backs on all my pieces because I’m allergic to nickel and even more allergic to losing an earring.”
She took one out and explained her process for attaching the findings to the stones, but just looking at them convinced me of their quality.
“I’ll take these. Thank you.” I handed her my credit card.
She gave me an impish smile as she rang up our purchase. “Thank you for your business. There’s a secret inside the box. I sometimes do that with pieces that mean a lot to me. If someone is willing to buy, then I tell them. There’s a catch in the box. See?”
I looked more closely at what I presumed was a simple wooden box. Epic saw the mechanism first and pressed it. A tiny drawer slid out, inside of which was a third piece—a round tack pin in onyx like the earrings, but instead of the moon, the opal inlay featured the earth. The craftsmanship was amazing. It looked exactly like photos of the earth from space.
“The extra piece goes with the earring set?” I stared at her.
She laughed at my expression. “Yup. It can be part of the gift, or it can be for the gift giver. I see the earth and the moon as entities locked in gravity’s dance. The moon creates the tidal force, the earth’s shadow determines the moonlight. As an artist, I wanted to represent the idea of their partnership.”
“Oh, now it’s even better.” Epic pinned the earth piece to my lapel with no small amount of determination. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s wonderful. Can I get your card so I can remember where I got them? Do you sell your work online?”
“Yes and yes.” She held out a card with both hands. “I’m so glad you’re happy. You made my day.”
“Mine too.” Epic beamed at her.
After we left the shop, neither Epic nor I seemed to know where to look.
“I really am Cinderella this weekend. Gonna be a shame when the carriage turns back into a pumpkin.”
“I think you’ll be okay.”
“Of course I will.” He slipped his hand into mine and laced our fingers together. “I’m more worried about you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” He glanced at me then away. “Never mind. I’m probably deluded, and you’ll go back to work, and it will be like you never left. But you might find it harder than you expect.”
I didn’t know whether to be insulted or to laugh. What would be so hard for me? I spent most of my time analyzing data in the office or traveling to negotiate for information with law enforcement and other NGOs—the things I was actually good at.
Occasionally, I had to spend time eating delicious food and explaining why people should care as much as I did that sex was consensual and laborers got paid fairly.
Though there wouldn’t be time for mini-golf, or tandem cycling, or long walks in the moonlight with gorgeous, exasperating men like Epic, I had a pretty good life.
As we walked back to the car, I dragged that great big lie behind me like a strip of toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
Chapter Thirteen
The immense patio of the Bella Vista glittered with the light from a hundred candles. Lanterns hung in the wind-twisted trees. We’d been seated near the brick fire pit which added much needed warmth, but I was glad we’d both worn jackets. The waiter came over with water—much needed after the long hot day spent shopping.
Epic wore his new earrings to dinner. They caught and held my gaze every time the light hit them. I studied the gemstones whenever he moved his head. They winked fire, like magic, and every time I felt as if I’d marked him. The feeling was good.
“What are you getting?” I asked Epic. “I’ll probably have the snapper.”
“Mm. Have you ever eaten duck?”
“I have. The roasted duck breast on the menu looks very good. I thought about it, but duck’s a little rich.”
“That’s what I was thinking. What if we share again?”
“I’m game. You okay with half my snapper?”
