Page 112 of Just a Plot Twist
“It’s gone.” Indie’s whisper is so harsh that I’m sure half the audience can hear it.
I freeze, my mind refusing to catch up. Benson steps to her, his face in a frown.
“Oh boy.” Benson’s cheeks are stained pink. “My wedding band is gone.”
He and I exchange a look and then my eyes jump to Cinnamon’s back. The pillow’s there still, but instead of two rings, there’s only one and a long, white thread where Benson’s was. “But I saw it stitched on there just a second ago,” I say, panic filling my throat.
It was there, right before she and Indie started the procession. The two yellow gold bands, Benson’s wider, traditional one knitted next to mine—a thin band studded with diamonds all the way around.
Stella stands from her pew on the second row. She makes her way to us, her eyes wide—shell shocked. She bends down to Cinnamon and strokes the top of her head. “Where’s the ring, sweetheart?” She looks up at me. “I did notice she was scratching her head with her back leg at one point. Maybe she did it again and it went flying?”
Benson offers the reverend an apologetic smile before turning to the guests. “Hey everybody. We seem to be missing my wedding band. Apparently, we putwaytoo much trust in adog.” The congregation laughs politely. “Please hold for just a minute, whilewe—”
Gabriel stands from the third row. “Hey, let us help. We’ll find it.” At that, the crowd scrambles to their feet and starts searching high and low.
“I knew they shouldn’t have had a dog carrying their rings. It’s just ridiculous.” Grandma’s trying to whisper, but her voice carries.
One side of my mouth lifts. I’m not going to let a minor issue like this ruin our beautiful day. We’re going to find it. We will.
Fifteen minutes later, the ring is still nowhere to be found. Cinnamon’s innocently lying on the floor next to Dax and Indie, who’ve taken up camp up against the wall.
There are still a few people looking, but mostly, everyone’s settled into conversations in small groups.
“I can’t believe it. It was right there. I saw it seconds before I started walking down the aisle.” I’m sitting next to Inez, who says she’s loving a little bit of time away from her babies. They’re being tended by their grandmother.
“I’m bringing them to the reception,” she’d reassured me when I was sad to not see them here. Now, she’s holding my hand and patting it.
I’ve given up looking for that ring. I’m trying not to panic. I mean, it’s not like it’s a family heirloom or anything. It’s replaceable.
“You know, we haven’t said ‘I do’ yet.” Benson slides onto the bench next to me, his voice low. Inez takes one look at him and says she’s going back a couple of rows to sit next to her husband, who seems to be in a deep discussion with Sebastian about something to do with business.
“I’m well aware.”
At my expression, he lifts his arm and places it over my shoulders., tugging me closer. “I’m sorry about this. Is it time to just…I don’t know…borrow someone’s ring or something?” He nibbles on my ear, causing goosebumps to tickle along my neck. “I want you to be my wife. Now.”
I turn to kiss his delectably perfect cheekbone. “Will they let us finish the ceremony without one?”
“It’s our wedding day,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t we get to just declare that we’ll get another ring later so hurry up and say kiss the bride already?”
“Yes, please,” I agree.
“This is some dress.” He slides his hand down my thigh. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”
“At least ten times. But you can make it eleven if you want.”
His hand continues to my knee. “You’re so beautiful, you take my breath away.” He glances at my leg. “Let me see those shoes again.”
I lift my leg up and admire them. They’re gold, the heels somewhere in between stilettos and clunky—gorgeous yet still comfortable. He lifts my foot and settles it into his lap.
I whip my head around. “I can’t be resting my foot on the bench in a church, Bens!”
“Didn’t we just declare that we can make all the decisions today?” He goes to lift my shoe off my foot. “Remember that time you wore high heels with a sprained ankle?”
I start to giggle. “They weren’t high heels. They were maybe midi.”
“Midi?” He laughs because, apparently, he hasn’t heard that term before. And then I start to giggle more, and suddenly, it’s like I can’t stop. Which makes him shake his head and laugh, too.
He slips my shoe off my foot to massage my feet. I slide back a little on the pew and let my head drop to close my eyes, wiping the laughing tears away.
