Down and Dirty (Hot Jocks #5)(21)
An enormous smile spreads across her face, as though ring insurance were the most exciting thing in the world. “You two are a gorgeous couple. I’ll bet your wedding pictures are like something straight out of a bridal magazine.”
I smile while biting my tongue. If only she knew the only pictures we have are blurry ones that our drunk friends took on their cell phones. “Let’s get this appraisal done, shall we?”
The three of us settle in the living room, and Landon hands over the stack of paperwork he’s been clutching.
“Here’s the receipt, and the copy of the certificate of authenticity you requested.”
The appraiser nods, running one red nail along the details printed on the page. Three carats. Platinum setting. All the things a girl dreams her ring will be. Unbuckling her briefcase, she slips the papers away and hands Landon a pen, along with a few documents to sign.
“While you review those, I’ll just need to take a quick look at the ring itself.”
Reluctantly, I shimmy the ring off my finger and place it in her palm. Despite the fact that I haven’t worn it all week, I feel naked the second I take it off. Like a crucial part of me is missing. My eyes stay glued on her as she inspects the center diamond, jotting down notes on the color and cut.
“So, when was the big day?” she asks, her gaze still firmly locked on my ring. Thank God she doesn’t look up at me, or she would see that I have to squint and rack my brain to come up with the date.
“A week ago from yesterday? So that would’ve been . . . June twelfth, right?” I look to Landon for confirmation, but he has his nose buried in paperwork, seemingly as uncomfortable with this question as I am.
“A June wedding. Great choice.”
I’m sure she’s envisioning peonies and a sunny outdoor ceremony, and I’m not about to correct her. “Yep, we love the summertime.”
The words feel foreign in my mouth. We love the summertime. As if Landon and I have known each other long enough to share an opinion on favorite seasons.
“Such a perfect time of year for a honeymoon too,” she says, returning the ring to me. “Where did you two go?”
“We, um, we actually didn’t have one,” I say, sliding the ring back on. Suddenly, I find myself very interested in picking at my nail polish. Anything to avoid eye contact with this nosy Nancy.
“Delayed honeymoon,” she says, nodding as if it all makes sense. “I’ve heard they’re super trendy right now. Gives you something to look forward to, right?”
“That’s right,” Landon says, sliding the stack of signed papers across the coffee table. “Is there anything else you need?”
The appraiser flips through the paperwork, verifying Landon has signed every dotted line before tucking it into her briefcase. “That should be it. Short and sweet. I hope I didn’t delay your weekend plans.”
Landon shakes his head as he pushes to his feet, cueing us to do the same. “We’re just going shopping today. I need to get this place furnished.” He tilts his head toward the sparsely decorated space. “If you hadn’t noticed.”
She laughs politely, then cranes her neck to take in the bare apartment. “There’s a lot you can do with this space. I can just see it with an old oak hutch full of your wedding pictures, maybe even a high chair at the kitchen table.” She gives me a wink that makes my stomach lurch.
“We’re going to focus on the basics first,” I snap, cocking my head and giving her the fakest smile I can muster. She came here to appraise my ring, not to give us family-planning advice.
My sass must be detectable, because she doesn’t even bother trying to shake my hand before scurrying out the door. When it clicks closed behind her, the air in the room feels lighter somehow.
“I take it you didn’t like her very much.” Landon turns toward me with an apologetic look in his eyes, but when he sees my tight-lipped scowl, he laughs. “It’s no big deal, Bree. Those are normal questions to ask a married couple.”
“A normal married couple,” I say, correcting him. “Which we’re not.”
“As far as anyone else knows, we’re a regular all-American bride and groom.” He pulls his leather jacket off the back of a chair and tugs it over his muscular arms. “I wasn’t kidding about furniture shopping today, though. Are you down?”
I reach for my purse, nodding. Furniture shopping sounds fun. And I doubt the candles and picture frames will ask us about when we’re having children.
? ? ?
Walking into the luxury home store, I feel like somebody should be playing the music from Annie. I feel like I’m the little redhead, wandering into Daddy Warbucks’ mansion. And I’ll admit it. I think I’m gonna like it here.
As I wander the store, running my fingers along the expensive linens and silks, it feels like I’m living out a daydream. I’ve never spent more than fifty bucks on anything in my apartment. I don’t have the budget for it.
But years of honing my thrifting skills have been preparing me for this. My eye for design and ability to find diamonds in the rough is something I’m proud of. And trust me, there’s a lot of rough in this store. Just because it’s all expensive doesn’t mean it’s all good. And it takes less than five minutes for it to become glaringly obvious that Landon wouldn’t know a quality throw pillow if it hit him in his cute hockey-player butt.