Play Along(26)

“Hey.”

Mouth full of mints, he finds me standing by the door and that signature smile blooms. “Hi, wifey.”

“I’m regretting this arrangement already.”

He ignores me. “The stadium is filling up and the game doesn’t even start for a couple more hours.”

Makes sense. It’s Opening Day against Minnesota and fans have been itching for baseball to return.

Isaiah eyes my yoga pants, running shoes, and Warriors’ polo. My hair is up in a ponytail and my cheeks are warm from lifting boxes of medical tape and other supplies for the past three hours.

In fact, I haven’t looked any less exhausted all week. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t arrived to the field after seven in the morning, or left before the sun has gone down. And I have a strong suspicion why Dr. Fredrick decided to throw the entire medical staff’s to-do list on my shoulders this week.

“How long have you been here?” Isaiah asks, his eyes crinkling and not from his smile, but instead, concern.

“All morning. Dr. Fredrick decided that Opening Day was the perfect day for me to reorganize the medical supply cabinet. I got here at six.”

“Don’t you guys have interns for that kind of stuff?”

“We do.”

Understanding dawns on him and the typically happy-go-lucky guy seems pissed. “Have you eaten?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Have you eaten, Kennedy?”

“I’ll grab something in the dining hall after this.”

He eyes me as if he doesn’t quite believe me and steps into my space.

I’m not sure why, but I don’t move, flinch, or hesitate. I find myself okay that he might be invading my space to touch me.

Weird.

But he doesn’t. He simply reaches past me and turns the lock on the main bathroom door, keeping everyone else out.

“I have something for you.” He reaches into his pocket. “It’s not as flashy as the last one you had.”

“I hated the last one I had.”

A mischievous smile lifts at his lips. “So did I.”

Isaiah holds the delicate ring out between his index finger and thumb.

“Oh, wow,” I hear myself say. “That’s . . . beautiful.”

Taking it from him, I let the light shine off the center stone. It’s a stunning purple. Amethyst, I’d assume. Small diamonds create a halo around it, and the band is a patinated gold.

It’s clear there’s a history to this ring, a story behind it that new jewelry doesn’t have. This ring seems worn and cherished and loved.

“Fingers crossed that it fits,” Isaiah cuts in. “My mom had small hands too, so I’m hopeful.”

Wait. What?

My eyes shoot to his, only to find him watching me. “Your mom?”

The typically cocky man in front of me blushes at my question. “That was her wedding ring.”

I can physically feel the blood drain from my face as I hold his mother’s ring between my fingers.

I can’t wear this, not when our marriage is simply a transaction.

While I may never understand holding sentimental value for something from my parents, the Rhodes boys adored their mom.

From the little I know, Isaiah was only thirteen and Kai fifteen when their mother tragically passed. Miller has mentioned that Kai sings her praises when he speaks of her, so much so that when Miller was featured in Food & Wine Magazine last fall, she named a dessert after the woman she never got to meet.

Isaiah doesn’t talk much about her, but then again, he doesn’t talk about anything too serious, though I know he must miss her the way his brother does.

“I can’t wear this.”

“You don’t think it’ll fit?”

“This is your mom’s ring, Isaiah. This should be saved for someone else. Someone you care about.”

“I care about you.”

“You know what I mean.”

He holds eye contact, not backing down, but neither do I.

“Please,” I continue, holding it out for him to take back. “I don’t want to dishonor her memory by wearing her ring when I’m only married to her son as part of a business arrangement. I’ll wear something else.”

Too many silent moments pass, until finally, he takes the ring from me.

“When my mom died, this is the only thing I asked for,” he says, looking at it between his fingers. “I’m not sure why. I probably wasn’t thinking straight at the time. I should’ve asked for some of her clothes or her favorite books, but I just wanted this ring because I remember how pretty the color looked on her skin. I’ve always planned on giving it to the girl I marry, and whether this marriage is simply for convenience, you are the girl I married, Kennedy.”

He takes my hand in his and I don’t even flinch as he runs the pad of his thumb over my currently bare ring finger.

“So please, for me, just wear it, okay?”

His tone is pleading for me to agree, and he doesn’t wait for my answer before he slips it over my knuckle.

It fits perfectly.

He circles his thumb over it. “I will, however, divorce your ass if you lose this.”

I can’t help it, I burst a laugh.

After trying for years not to laugh around this man, it’s kind of nice to give into the urge.