Penny: Why else would he carry a ring-shaped box from Tiffany’s if he didn’t plan on proposing? Rings aren’t like condoms.
Chelsey: There’s a lot to unpack here.
Aidan thrashes back and forth in the back seat.
“I think he’s having a night terror or something. Any idea on how to snap him out of it?”
“Slap him?” I shrug.
“I’m not slapping our driver.”
“He hasn’t been our driver for the last thirty minutes that he’s been unconscious.”
“There’s a bottle of water in the driver’s side door. Hand that to me.”
“You’re going to waterboard the guy that’s terrified of the rain? The man is literally trying to build an army of beavers and ducks.”
Aidan throws a lazy haymaker in Smith’s direction.
“Water. Now.”
“Fine.” I climb into the driver’s seat and grab the bottle of water. I toss it to Smith. “If he ends up murdering you in his sleep, I promise to take good care of Harriet.”
Smith rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to Aidan.
I go to move back to my seat, but my foot catches on the strap of Smith’s bag, spilling half its contents onto the floorboard. “Shit. Sorry,” I say. “I’ll clean it up.”
Smith waves over his shoulder. He’s too busy baptizing the demons out of Aidan to pay any attention to me.
I scoop up his pens, gum, and other miscellaneous items—honestly, he carries more stuff around in his purse than I do—all the while keeping an eye on the jewelry box. This feels like a test from the universe. Like whether or not I open this box says something about the kind of person I am. Technically, Smith didn’t tell me not to open it up. In fact, he’s invited me into his bag twice since we’ve been stuck in this van from hell, and I am only a mere mortal. A mere mortal who won’t be able to sleep unless she knows if her ex-husband is going to propose to someone he’s only known for ninety days.
One look. That’s it.
My heart pounds against my chest as I take the box in my hand. I peer into the back seat once more. Aidan looks like he’s been born again. He’s sitting upright, which means if I’m going to do this, it’s got to be now. I press the small silver button, and before I can take it back, the box opens. I look down and my heart goes from pounding to an all-out flatline.
It’s my ring.
My ex-husband is carrying around my engagement ring in his luggage. He’s going to give the same ring that he gave to me to some woman he’s known for three months. Three freaking months!
“Hey.” Smith’s voice startles me. I snap the ring box closed and place it back in his bag. “Look who’s awake.”
“Hi, Aidan.” I give a curt wave.
“Looks like traffic is moving now too.” Smith gestures toward the window. The cars in the lane next to us have started to inch forward. “We should be home in no time.”
“Should I drive?” Aidan asks. “I don’t think I’m fit to drive yet. Feels like I still need to sober up, ya know?”
“No problem.” Smith makes his way back toward the front of the car, and I move back to my spot in the passenger seat. “I’ll get us home.”
He’s smiling and giddy. It makes me want to kick him in the balls. How dare he be giddy to go home and give my ring to some woman he’s known for less time than I’ve known my air fryer. That ring is a vintage, one-of-a-kind piece. It has no business being in a box from Tiffany’s. It didn’t come from Tiffany’s. It came from a flea market in London. Why would his air-fryer girlfriend want a flea-market ring from London?
The cars in front of us start to move at a slow but steady clip. Smith puts the van in drive, which means in a matter of minutes I’ll be home. Who would’ve thought I’d ever look forward to being home?
I don’t think Clementine Street will be enough distance between Smith and me. I swear if he thinks about coming over with his young, naive fiancée I’m going to—
“So, who is Martin?” Smith asks. “That was my last question. Unless you’re going to veto it, in which case—”
“He’s my boyfriend,” I say defiantly. “Martin is my boyfriend.”
“Oh.”
There’s a hint of surprise in his voice. I’m not sure what his face looks like, because I personally don’t think I can look at Smith without committing a felony. He probably wants to ask me more about Martin, but he’s all out of questions. And our time together is thankfully almost finally over.