Page 22 of Crazed

I groan. "What is it? Hopefully, something here?"

She makes a face then answers, "Unfortunately not."

"Okay, what is it?"

"I need to get some jewelry fixed."

I sit straighter. Jewelry is something I know all about. "What's wrong with it?"

She hesitates.

"Well?" I prod.

"Can I show you?"

"Sure," I reply, wondering what she owns. I've never seen her wear anything. It's one of the things I love about her. She doesn't need to be flashy. She shines brighter than any gem. But I still have our family jeweler Ettore making a necklace, earring, and bracelet set for her. Her birthday is around the corner, and I plan on making sure it's the best one yet.

Plus, I asked him to design an engagement ring based on an idea I had in my head. There's no doubt she's my future.

She slides out of bed, takes the towel off her head, and hangs it on her door hook. She shakes out her hair then walks to her dresser.

There's a wooden jewelry box I don't remember ever seeing. I'm guessing it's cedar. But it's not like me to miss details, so I inquire, "Where've you been keeping that box?"

She reaches for it then brings it back to the bed. "In the bottom drawer."

"Why there?" I question, then circle my arm around her as she slides under the covers.

Katiya shrugs. "So it isn't obvious if someone ever breaks in."

I kiss her. "Smart girl. So what's up with the box?"

She takes a deep breath, and something passes in her eyes. It leaves as quickly as it came, so I wonder if I imagined it. She puts her hand on the top and traces the engraved flower. "It's the only thing I have left from my father. He gave it to me on my twelfth birthday."

My heart squeezes. I tighten my arm around her. She told me how her mother died when she was three and her father when she was fifteen. It's still painful for her, and I imagine it always will be. My mama died of a heart attack over a decade ago. It was sudden and came from nowhere. I still have times when I get emotional over her death. I miss her. As much as my papà and I are at odds these days, I can't imagine not having him here. I soften my voice when I ask, "Can I see it?"

She hands me the box, watching me for my reaction.

I do the same thing she did and trace the ornate flower. "This is beautiful."

"My father made it," she admits.

I freeze, staring at the box then at her. "He designed this?"

A sad smile fills her face. She blinks hard and clears her throat. "He owned a woodworking business. When he wasn't making furniture, he would make these. He'd gift them to his customers on their birthdays."

I trace the flower's petal and take in all the little details, completely in awe. Impressed, I proclaim, "He was talented."

Her voice is so low I can barely hear. "Yes."

I kiss her forehead. "Can I see your jewelry?"

"Oh, it's not mine."

"No? Whose is it?"

"Well..." She furrows her eyebrows then bites on her bottom lip.

"Katiya?" I inquire.

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