Page 93 of Love on Deck

His answer settled into my uncertainties, bouncing around in my head. Why would I wait? I had been giving Lauren space because she’d seemed to need it. But Amelia had asked for the same thing. Where was the line between respecting her need for space and fighting for her?

“Tiffany!” Kevin shouted, making me jump. “They’re open until eight. You coming with? I could use your help.”

“Sure.” What else would I do? Wallow? Sit in the dark and imagine how I could have handled things better? Count the tiles in my bathroom? Might as well be Kevin’s emotional support. “Wait. I still don’t have a car.”

“I’ll pick you up. See you in ten.” Three beeps sounded in my ear, telling me Kevin had hung up. The man was not messing around.

I went back to Lauren’s name in my contacts and pressed the call button, muttering a prayer under my breath that she would not ignore me. After two rings it was sent to voicemail. I waited for the robot to finish giving me instructions. “Hey. It’s me. I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing and how Amelia is holding up. Call me sometime. Or text me. Or loop me in on a spreadsheet. At this point, I’ll take anything.”

Was that desperate? Probably not my finest moment.

“Anyway, hope to hear from you soon, Lauren. Bye.”

I hung up and scrubbed a hand over my face. There was definitely no chill in that voicemail. Maybe it would have been better off deleted.

Kevin and I were halfway to Tiffany & Co when I thought that maybe I should have insisted on driving his car. The man was on a mission and his speedometer reflected it. But we made it to the store in record time and without causing an accident.

Choosing the ring, it turned out, took much longer.

“What does the young lady like?” the shop assistant, Peter, asked, putting glasses on to look down at the jewelry counter. He had white hair and a patient smile.

“I don’t know.” Kevin looked at me for further help, but I shrugged. “It was always the plan for her to have my grandmother’s ring, so we haven’t talked about it much.”

“Do you want to find something similar to your family ring?” Peter asked.

“No.” Kevin’s brow creased as he surveyed the rings under the lights. “I want this to mean something to us, independent of the other ring.”

“So, you’d like for it to be completely different?”

“Yes.”

There were crickets in the shop after this. We were no closer to finding something.

Peter’s soothing voice filled the store. “Why don’t you walk around the shop a bit and think of your wife and tell me which rings really speak to you. We can go from there.”

That sounded time-intensive to me, but Kevin seemed into the idea. I took one of the padded chairs and sat quietly, watching him pass over the rings slowly, failing to settle for long on any one.

It took another forty-five minutes for him to choose. He stopped, stared for a ridiculous amount of time, and then said, “That one.”

“Which features do you like about it?” Peter asked.

Kevin blinked. “It. I like it. That’s the ring I want.”

The jeweler’s brow creased. Neither of us expected this to go so easily.

I moved to stand beside him. “Which one?”

“That.” He pointed to a flat oval diamond on a thin diamond-encrusted band. There were probably technical terms for all those things, but I didn’t know them. It did look good, though. And crazy expensive.

Kevin looked up. “Can I take it with me now?”

“All of our rings come in a standard size six but can be resized. Do you know your wife’s ring size?”

“No.”

Peter hesitated.

“If I bring her back will you resize it?” Kevin asked.

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