Page 35 of Wrong Number, Right Lion

The man closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them with a smile. “I have exactly what you need. Why don’t you take a seat?”

He hadn’t been wanting to get us in and out, done. The man had taken a moment to really think about it first. Madeline for the win.

He led us to a small desk, offered us tea, and after bringing Madeline a cup, disappeared in the back.

“Is this how it’s always done?” I asked. “I mean not at the mall.”

Madeline shrugged. “This is a nice place, so probably?”

The jeweler came back ten minutes later with a tray of rings, and I didn’t even need to think twice. I knew instantly which one was Arlo’s. It was platinum, which wasn’t what drew me to it particularly, but along the sides, it had lines—wavy ones that reminded me of my mane. Now I understood what Madelinemeant by fitting his personality. This ring might as well have been made for him.

“I like this one.” I indicated the ring, and the man took it off the tray and handed it to me. Not only was it gorgeous, but the texture on the band was smooth and even more detailed than I'd originally noticed.

“This was handmade by my son.” His pride beamed through. “Excellent choice.”

“You sure you don’t want to get him something nicer?” Madeline whispered, making me second-guess myself for a split second. “There are some nice ones with diamonds.”

“If by ‘nicer,’ you mean more expensive,” the jeweler interrupted, “then yes, we absolutely have better options. But I saw the second your friend took that ring in, and there was a recognition there. This is the one. I wouldn’t, in good conscience, sell him anything else—not even this one, which is five times the price.”

“This is the one.” I appreciated his honesty. I took out my card and handed it to him, not even looking at the price. I didn’t care. This was for my mate, and I couldn’t wait to give it to him.

A few minutes later, the transaction was complete and Madeline and I were walking out, me with the ring box in my pocket.

After thanking Madeline and telling her I owed her one, we went our separate ways, with me going home. Only, it wasn’t really home.

Arlo and I were taking turns going back and forth between my house and his, and it wasn’t because we weren’t planning on living together. We just hadn’t made any decisions yet. For me,it was waiting until I had this ring so we could do this the human way. And for him, it was probably because he knew I was the owner, and therefore, when one of us moved, it meant we had to sell the other place.

I didn’t love the arrangement and hoped to remedy that soon.

After a couple impromptu stops, one to grab a plant from the nursery and the other to snag some ingredients to make one of my better dishes, a simple pasta with seafood, I was home. The plan was to cook him dinner, eat together, and then ask him to marry me.

But as soon as I saw him, that plan flew out the window.

That ring was burning a hole in my pocket, and before I even knew what I was doing, I was getting down on one knee and holding out the box.

“Arlo, I… I love you more than all of the fancy poems and sonnets could ever describe. My life is exponentially more complete with you in it, and I want you tied to me in all ways.”

His eyes were glued to the box.

“We’re already mated, and our lives are one, but legally, and in the eyes of our human friends and coworkers, well, I…” I plopped open the box. “Will you?—”

I never got to finish.

Because he bolted.

At first, I worried it was a no—that somehow, I had misjudged all of this.

But then I heard him retching.

My mate was sick.

Or the idea of being married to me made him ill.

And heck—neither was good.

“May I come in?” I didn’t want to embarass him and some people were weird about puke, but not already being by his side to help him sucked.

“Yes.”

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