by Gina Azzi
"So?"
"It's better you don't know." His voice breaks at the end, and my mind splinters into a hundred possible outcomes, each one bleaker than the one before it.
Oh God.
"Fifty-thousand," I repeat.
"Yes."
"Let me see the pendant."
He nods to a small pouch in the cup holder, and I pick it up gingerly, weighing the weight of the gem in my hand. It's heavier than I thought, which is a good sign. Opening the pouch, I pour its contents into my hand, and my heart catches in my chest.
I breathe out low, my eyes widening at the beautiful pendant on a simple white-gold chain that dips between my fingers.
"It's breathtaking," I whisper, the color of the gem shifting in the sunlight, as if by magic. "It's real?"
"Of course."
"But the color?"
"It changes. It looks blue-green outside and purple-red inside."
"It's incredible."
His mouth ticks up in the corners, but he looks sad. "What do you think?"
I study the gem for several seconds, taking in the shape and weight and shimmering color. "It's beautiful, but let me handle it, okay?"
His eyes narrow at me. "Handle what?"
"Negotiations with Pierre," I explain, my mind already concocting the story we're going to sell.
If Carter is selling his mother’s jewelry, then he desperately needs the money. I can’t let him down and I can’t mess this up.
Pierre's Bijouterie is on a small, almost-alleyway off of River Street. Tucked in between a bed and breakfast and a souvenir shop, you would walk right past it if you weren't looking for it. I think that's part of Pierre's overall plan, hiding in plain sight.
A connoisseur of gemstones and jewelry, Pierre has been my family's jeweler since I was a baby. Now in his sixties, Pierre is a good-looking man, quiet and thoughtful, but with a sharp eye and an even sharper mind.
Not much gets past him but with my family name, a quick Google search, and a bit of luck, I'm hoping I can pull this charade off. Not to dupe him because he can't be duped. But to get Carter a better price than if he took the alexandrite to anyone else. To make sure that Carter gets exactly what it's worth, if not more. He may not want to tell me why he's selling the pendant, but the pained expression on his face means it's important. And I don't want to let him down. Not now. Not ever.
"You ready?" I ask Carter before we enter the jeweler.
He nods, his face grim, his hat pulled low, so I can't read his eyes.
Pushing open the shop door, a small bell tinkles as we stand in the entryway, waiting for access to the shop. A buzzing sound clicks, and the heavy door reinforced with metal bars opens slowly, granting us access.
I step inside and immediately meet Pierre's warm eyes, an undercurrent of curiosity flashing through them.
"Taylor, cheri." He strides forward, clasping my hands in his and placing a kiss to each of my cheeks.
"Hello, Pierre. It's wonderful to see you."
"You as well, dear. How are your parents? They're not with you today?" He peers over my shoulder, and I notice the slight stiffening of his shoulders when he catches sight of Carter.
"They're very well, thanks for asking. Recently back from California. Unfortunately, they couldn't join me in the city today, but I brought my friend, Carter." I tuck my fingers into the crook of Carter's elbow and pull him beside me, digging my fingernails lightly into his skin to reassure him that we're in this together.
"Um, it's good to meet you." Carter extends a hand awkwardly, and Pierre, ever-polite Pierre, takes it for a quick shake.
"You as well, Mr…"
"Kane," I supply.
Pierre nods. "Well, what can I help you with today?" he asks, a sudden gleam appearing in his blue eyes. "We're not diamond shopping, are we?"
I let out a light laugh that sounds casual and relaxed while Carter turns a pasty white next to me, his body tensing.
"Not today. I'm hoping you can help me with something else." I pull the small pouch from my purse and hold it gently in my hand as Pierre's eyes cut to the back, and he gestures for us to join him at the counter.
Pulling out a soft cloth, a light, and his loupe, Pierre holds a hand out tentatively. "May I?'
"Of course." I pass him the pouch and watch him closely as he opens the end and gently pours out the pendant. A gasp escapes his throat, and his eyes widen in surprise. It's an expression I've never seen on him before, and I know that this pendant is the real deal. And that Carter is about to get exactly what he needs for whatever he needs the money for.
"This is beautiful," Pierre says in an off-hand way, trying to recover from his first reaction.
"Thank you."
"It's yours?" He fixes me with a concerned look. "Why ever would you want to part with this, dear?"
I shake my head lightly. "It's actually a family heirloom of the Kanes’," I admit honestly, taking a small inhale to push forth with the rest of my story. "His sister is interested in medical school," I say, shrugging, "and you know how expensive that can be."
Pierre nods absently, his eyes fixed on the alexandrite, his fingers gently gliding over the surface of the stone.
"It’s been in his family for quite some time. Originally from the Ural Mountains in Russia, this gem—"
"Is an 'emerald by day and a ruby by night.' I've seen many of them, as they are associated with June as a birthstone, but not of this quality. This quality is extremely rare and worth a great deal." He narrows his eyes at Carter. "You sure you want to part with it, son?"
Carter clears his throat and gives a stiff nod. "It was my mother's," he says, and the emotion in his voice is clear.
Pierre's expression softens, and I realize we don't even need to have a charade. Carter's going to sell this story all on his own.
"She passed, and I've been saving it for my... sister. But my mother would have wanted her to pursue her dreams, and my family realized that my sister will benefit more from a medical education." The lie passes from his lips so convincingly that I jerk back, unable to hide my surprise.
Pierre makes a noncommittal sound in his throat.
"Carter's had several offers from jewelers in Georgia as well as in California and New York," I say breezily, turning back to Pierre and watching as he shifts his body weight. "I told him you were the best, though, and wanted to offer you the first option in acquiring it."
Pierre is quiet, thoughtful.
"We'll give you a moment to consider the stone," I say, sweeping my hand down Carter's arm until our hands intertwine. I tug gently, and we walk over to other counters where I point out random gemstones and draw him into a conversation that I know he could care less about having.
When my eyes fasten on the case with engagement rings, a small smile crosses my mouth.
"How much does a ring like this cost?" Carter asks under his breath, his eyes trained on the ring in front of us.
"A lot."
"How much?"
I shrug. "About eighty."
"Thousand?" he says loudly, and I nod, biting my lower lip to keep from laughing at his outburst.
"For a ring?" he continues, incredulous.
"It's a three-point-five carat, flawless solitaire. Probably D color. Yep, I'd guess around eighty thousand."
Carter whistles lowly under his breath and I grin.
"I can't imagine."
"What?"
"Spending that much," he says, shaking his head, "no, having that much money to spend on a ring."
I take a step forward to continue our perusal of the counter.
"Is that what you want?" he asks suddenly.
"Hmm?"
"A ring like that." He points to the engagement ring again. "Is that the type of ring that Barrington would buy you? Is that the type of ring you'd like to wear one day?" His voice is low, a tightness around his mouth and eyes that wasn't there moments ago.
I gather my hair over one shoulder and turn to face him. "Yes, that's the type of ring Bar
rington will buy for his future wife," I answer honestly and watch as he chews the corner of his mouth, his eyes dropping to the floor.
"And no, that's not the type of ring I'd like to wear one day."
His eyes find me, curiosity and confusion burning in their green depths. "It's not?"
I shake my head, tugging on his hand as we round the counters until we're in front of brightly colored and various-shaped gemstones.
"No, I want to be engaged one day. With the right person, of course."
"Of course," Carter agrees, warmth infused in his tone once more.
"And I'd hope that the person I marry one day knows me well enough to know that I'd love a ring that is unique. Something different than most women would want."
"Like the alexandrite?"
"Yes, like that."
"Or something like this?" Carter asks, pointing to a stunning two-carat, emerald-cut, chrome tourmaline in a simple white-gold band.
My breath catches in my throat as I stare at the ring. It's beautiful. Perfect. My heart beats faster in my chest, and a strange sensation fills me, flooding my throat until I feel tears prick behind my eyes.
I nod, too scared to say anything to ruin the moment. With the warmth of Carter's hand on my lower back, his familiar scent of cedar mixed with soap, wrapping around me, I close my eyes and try to capture this feeling, so I can take it out and hold onto it in the future.
Carter's fingers brush along my hip as he keeps walking, checking out the gemstones.
And I open my eyes, taking in the beautiful ring once more—the chrome tourmaline a perfect reflection of the color of Carter's eyes.
"Taylor?" Pierre calls from behind me, and I run my fingers under my eyes to ensure no moisture collected there.
Turning around, I raise my eyebrows as I walk closer. Carter is behind me, his steps languid, measured.
"I'd like to make you an offer," Pierre says as we approach. "Sixty thousand." He lifts his gaze, and the blue of his eyes is sharp and shining. "It's a fair price," he states, continuing to explain the value of the gemstone and points out several deficiencies. After a lengthy explanation and encouraging Carter and me to look through his loupe, he steps away to give us a minute to discuss his offer.
"What do you think?" I ask, turning toward Carter.
He stands stock-still, his bottom lip pinned under his top one.
"I can't believe this. It's too good to be true. There's gotta be a catch," he whispers, and I'm not sure if he's speaking to me or himself. Or both.
"The money won't show up in your bank account until tomorrow," I remind him.
He nods, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You think he's telling the truth?"
"Yes. It is a fair price. Maybe you could get more for it if you shop around and spend a lot of time researching but—"
"Time isn't a luxury I have right now."
"Exactly."
"Okay." He blows out a deep breath, as his hand falls to his side. "Let's do it."
"Okay," I call Pierre back and final arrangements are made. Pierre makes the transfer to Carter's account, and Carter sends one last, lovingly painful look at the pendant.
Then we leave, stepping out of the quiet of Pierre's shop and into the bustle of River Street.
"Want to have lunch?" Carter asks, tilting his head toward me.
"Sure," I agree, goosebumps working up my arms.
A day date with Carter. I bite back my laughter as we walk down River Street.
28
Carter
I glance over the menu, deciding to order the first thing my eyes settle on. Salmon. Whatever.
Holy shit. I sold Mom's alexandrite pendant. A ball of guilt lands in the center of my stomach, and I suddenly feel nauseous. Sweat breaks out along my forehead, and my hands feel clammy. For a moment, I'm afraid I'm going to vomit right here in this restaurant along the river, with Taylor sitting across from me.
Taylor. God, she's amazing. I look at her, watch as she fiddles with the ends of her hair, her eyes perusing each item on the menu. The scene of the water and boats are behind her, strands of her hair lifting in the wind. I observe the way her eyebrows dip together as she considers a lunch option, all small pieces, but together, they make up the most perfect woman I know. I couldn't have done it without her.
When we first stepped into Pierre's, I knew immediately that I was way out of my league. Taylor was so calm, so detached from the alexandrite in her interactions with Pierre that for a moment, I thought she didn't understand the importance of it—of any of this.
But then when we looked at those rings and her eyes brightened when she saw the green ring I pointed to, I knew she understood everything. Maybe even more than I do.
She's as precious as the rarest gemstone.
I sold Mom's pendant. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. I sold it, but I'll be able to save Taylor’s father with the money from it. I’ll be able to keep myself out of Griller’s grasp. It's fine. It will be okay. No one ever needs to know.
"What're you thinking?" Taylor looks up from her menu, her brow creasing as she takes in my expression. "You okay?"
I nod, breathing in deeply and holding the heavy air in my lungs for an extra beat. The nausea is already passing along with the guilt, and in its place is my complete and utmost admiration and respect for the girl sitting across from me.
I don't deserve her.
I'll never deserve her.
But hell if I don't want to try to.
"The salmon," I say finally.
She smiles, her face transforming. Taylor Clarke is all light and sunshine and pure goodness. How could I drag her into this? How could I be the reason why her father is losing his company? Was the poker game with the MC the final straw? The one that caused him to spiral downward? Did I bring financial ruin to the Clarke family?
"Me too."
I take a sip of water and try to clear my head, so I can focus on my conversation with her. So I can soak up every single second I get to spend in her company since it's definitely not going to last.
How could it?
"You sure you're okay?"
"Just overwhelmed," I admit.
She wrinkles her nose, her eyes growing serious as she nods sympathetically. "It must have been hard to part with something of your mom's," she says sincerely, missing the point that I'm overwhelmed because of her. Because of all of the goodness she's brought to my life. But I don't correct her. It's better if she thinks I'm hung up on the pendant.
"It'll be fine." I wave a hand in dismissal, grateful that the waiter picks that moment to take our orders.
Once we've ordered and are munching on pieces of bread, an easy silence settles between us. It's a beautiful day, in a perfect location, with the most incredible woman I've ever known.
I want to get down on one knee and present her with that green ring and ask her to be mine forever.
And that's a scary thought. Because I haven’t known her long enough to have such intense feelings. Because a guy like me has no right asking for a future with a girl like her after all I've put her through. After all that's still yet to come, all the things she doesn’t know about.
She's giddy beside me, laughing and pointing out random souvenirs and sights. She knows Savannah well, and we spend the afternoon getting lost in tiny shops and seeking out historical sites. We eat candy apples and pralines from River Street Sweets and drink sweet tea at Debi’s The Restaurant. We meander through Forsyth Park and pose for a kissing selfie in front of the fountain. We walk hand-in-hand down the Wormsloe Historic Sight, the giant branches of the Oak trees intertwining above our heads, keeping us insulated in a moment I wish could stretch on forever. When dusk begins to settle, we both know it's time to head home, but neither of us mentions it.
"Carter," Taylor says as we step out of an art gallery.
"Yeah, babe?" I ask her, amazed that I spent the last twenty-minutes learning about a local artist. My brothers would have a field day if they could see me.
But for some reason, it doesn't matter what I'm doing with Taylor. I could be learning about the history of bugs and I wouldn't care. Everything with her is fun, exciting, infused with adventure and something innocent that I can't remember feeling since I was a kid. Since before Mom passed away and Dad left. Since the beginning. And as much as I don't want to let her go, I don't want to lose that feeling either.
"I don't want to go home," she admits, her eyes peering up at me from under her dark lashes.
"You don't?"
She shakes her head, snuggling closer into my side, and I wrap my arm around her, loving how perfectly she fits, as if we were two puzzle pieces meant to be joined together.
"We can stay."
She licks her bottom lip as her mouth curls into a gentle smile. "For real?"
I kiss the top of her head, squeezing her shoulder. "If you want to."
"Do you?" She peers up at me again, vulnerability flashing through her eyes.
"More than anything."
She laughs breathlessly, lifting my hand from her shoulder and bringing it around her to place a quick kiss on my open palm.
"Me too."
Locked away in a boutique hotel that Taylor suggested, my fingers ache to undress her, to have her laid out beneath me, her golden hair spread across the white of the pillow. For a moment, I feel like a kid again—nervous in the presence of a beautiful woman. Which is insane because I've been with so many beautiful women.
But none quite like Taylor.
I'm desperate to feel her beneath me and desperate to take my time, savoring every inch of her skin.
"Come here." I reach for her from my spot on the edge of the bed, but she escapes my grasp.
"Give me two minutes." She holds up two fingers and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door partially behind her.
I flop back onto the bed, pulling out my phone to make sure my brothers or Daisy haven't tried to reach me.
Texas Ink: Tick tock. What's up?
Me: Tell Griller he’ll have the money by tomorrow. Clarke stays out of this.
Texas Ink: Serious?
Me: Yeah.
