Page 24 of An American in London

“Ben!” I say. “You gotta stop calling me ridiculous. You might try and argue I’m not my name or my coffee order, but you’re adding to the list of my ridiculous qualities fast and thick. Before long, everything about me is going to be ridiculous, and that’s a red flag when you’re supposed to be falling in love with someone.”

He pulls in a breath, not in an exasperated way, more like he’s weighing what I’ve said. “I see where you’re coming from. For the record, everyone is ridiculous in one way or another.”

“I agree. But the man who’s in love with me has to think those ridiculous things are adorable.”

“I can’t sleep unless I wear an eye mask. Ridiculous or adorable?” he asks.

I scan his expression, trying to determine whether or not he’s making this up. He’s not. “Adorable,” I reply. “Do you have to have a lavender-scented pillow as well?”

He narrows his eyes at me like he’s going to get me back for making jokes at his expense. “No, but that soundsadorable. Can you get me one?”

I laugh, but before I can think of a reply, Edward’s back. “Do you have any styles in mind?” he asks.

“No.” I don’t want a replica of the engagement ring I returned to Jed. That would be ... weird. “Just not an emerald cut.” I don’t really know how to describe my previous ring other than that. “I’d like something a little ... different.”

“Of course, miss. Excuse me, and I’ll bring through a selection.” Edward does a little bow and wafts out.

“So you come here a lot?” I ask Ben, now that we’re alone.

“No,” he replies.

“Then how do they know your name?”

“I’ve made a couple of purchases from them. I suppose they know who I am.”

I don’t feel jealous, exactly, but my mood takes a turn toward jealous-adjacent. It doesn’t make sense. I’m not with Ben. I’m not his girlfriend, and I’m certainly not his fiancée. I barely know the guy. But there’s a bubble of something I’m not used to feeling in my stomach.

“What kind of purchases?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

He leans back on the sofa and stretches his arm across the back, behind me. “A couple of watches. That kind of thing.”

“No other engagement rings?” What is it with this guy? He’s gorgeous and rich. Okay, so he’s a little grumpy, but there are men on death row in relationships. Why doesn’t Ben have a girlfriend?

He lets out a half laugh. “No. The only women’s jewelry I’ve ever bought has been for my mother.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” I say. “As your fiancée, I was looking forward to lots of expensive gifts for birthdays and Christmases.”

“I’m not averse to it.”

“What? Buying me expensive jewelry?” I flatten my palm on my chest and flutter my eyelashes like I’m thrilled at the idea. Which, of course, I would be. Name a girl who says no to expensive jewelry.

“I’ve never been serious enough about a woman to buy her jewelry. It’s just never occurred to me.”

“You’re engaged now. Don’t hold back, my friend.”

“I’m not sure our arrangement counts.”

I pretend-pout, and I finally get that smile from him I was looking for when we were posing outside.

“So you’re a mommy’s boy?” I ask. “Buying your momma expensive jewelry and all?”

“I love my parents. They worked hard all their lives and gave me everything they could.”

“So you didn’t grow up with money?”

“No. We weren’t poor, but my mother worked part time as a teacher, and my father was ... in client relations. We got a new car every three years and went on holiday every summer.”

“And you became this uberwealthy guy ... how?”

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