Page 69 of Save Your Breath
She let out a huff of a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And this is the man I have to pretend to be engaged to.”
I kept my smirk fixed with her comment, despite how my stomach sank a bit with it.
It was all fun and games until I remembered that there was a bit of truth behind her jokes like that one, that there was always going to be an underlying truth beneath all this pretending.
She was in a different league than I was, one where pretty boys with well-adjusted families and positive PR reigned supreme.
And I was just the riffraff friend she had thanks to a decision her parents made when she was a kid.
“Alright, he’s downstairs. Cameras are clamoring at the door. Try to greet him close enough that they can get a shot through the glass.”
I was still staring at Mia as Isabella barked the order, but I saluted her again, and then I was out the door and in the elevator.
I did my best to shake out of my thoughts as I greeted the jeweler waiting for me in the lobby. He was a Black man, tall andstout with one of those smiles that you couldn’t help but return when he flashed it at you. He introduced himself as Mr. Lionel Bachman with a firm handshake and a booming voice that bragged about the impressive collection of rings he’d brought me. He tapped the briefcase in his other hand, and I nodded, thanking him for his time.
I made sure to drag out the exchange in the lobby, and I saw the shutterbugs behind the glass clicking away even though I pretended not to. Some fans had stopped as they were passing by, too, holding their cell phones up. I was sure they didn’t even know what they were capturing — not yet. But they’d wait to see what the headlines were and then post their videos to social media and brag that they were there.
Ever since Mia and I had started “dating,” I’d had more attention than ever around Tampa Bay. Tourists would take selfies in front of my condo building. Locals recognized me more now and weren’t shy when it came to asking for a picture or a signature. And suddenly, my fans weren’t mostly men or little kids. There was a healthy amount of young women now, ones who asked me how Mia was, when I’d see her again, if I loved her, if we were going to get married.
When I was sure they all had plenty of shots to get the rumors going like Isabella wanted, I led Mr. Bachman to the elevator and up to my floor.
Mia was seated on the edge of my sectional when we returned, and Isabella was in a tizzy, thanking Mr. Bachman profusely for his discretion and offering him a drink. I took a seat next to Mia, watching her watch the buzzing city of Tampa outside my floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Ms. Love,” Mr. Bachman said when he sat in the chair across from us. He shook her hand with pure admiration in his eyes. “What an absolute pleasure to meet you. I’ll have you know I’vebrought my most prized selection for you to view today. I hope the gems sparkle even half as bright as you do.”
Mia smiled with the cheesy compliment, waving her hand over the coffee table. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”
For the next half hour, Mia and I listened intently as Lionel went over his impressive collection. He had everything from twenty-carat diamond rings to the most colorful sapphires I’d ever seen. Each ring was meticulously crafted and had some special story attached to it, and while I was listening intently to Mr. Bachman as he explained each one, I was mostly tuned into Mia.
I noticed she lit up most when there was a colorful diamond or a gorgeously cut sapphire. The larger diamonds did nothing for her, her eyes scanning them quickly and catching on the others.
After a full explanation, she picked a few to try on, holding out her hand and examining how each ring dazzled on her manicured finger.
“Does it feel weird?” I asked her when she slid on the first one.
“So weird,” she said on a laugh, but I didn’t miss how she tilted her head and assessed the way her hand looked, how she wiggled her finger and watched the diamond sparkle.
Mr. Bachman praised her for each choice she made to try on, but I could tell from the soft crook of her lips that she hadn’t quite found the one she wanted yet.
I also wondered if there was a part of her that didn’t want to.
Mia had always been a romantic, ever since I’d known her. I knew part of her had to be dying right now.
She didn’t want to pick out her own ring.
She wanted a man who loved her to pick it outforher, to know her so well that he would select the perfect one. Shewanted to be surprised by a proposal that would take her breath away.
She wanted to say yes to the man of her dreams.
I swallowed the thick knot in my throat, knowing I couldn’t give her that.
But maybe I could at least give her part of it.
“Let me pick it out.”
Mia blinked up at me from where she’d been focused on a green sapphire princess-cut ring on her finger. “What?”
I slipped the ring off her finger and put it carefully back on the velvet before grabbing her by the arms and hauling her up off the couch. I walked her backward a few steps toward my balcony, nodding for Isabella to follow.
