Page 17 of The Temporary Bride

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious,” I say. “I thought we’d already had this conversation.”

“Tristan, I know this place. D’Angelo is one of the most expensive jewelers in LA. We can just go back to the outlet and get a regular ring. There’s no need for⁠—”

“I already told you,” I interrupt. “I’m not going to half-ass this. If I was getting married, I would take my fiancée here for a ring, because it’s the best, and I will only accept the best.”

She’s staring at me in disbelief, other emotions flashing in her dark gray eyes like shadows moving beneath ice. The depth of her eyes, as always, is remarkable.

“And seeing as I am getting married,” I continue with a shrug, “I’m going to take my fiancée here to get a ring.”

I’m expecting her to protest, to dig her heels in, but she doesn’t. Instead, she allows me to place my hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the door.

D’Angelo’s place is small but well laid out, exuding an air of refined luxury. Soft, recessed lighting casts a warm glow over the carefully arranged displays, each piece of jewelry gleaming under its own spotlight. The gemstones are nestled into black velvet cushions, glinting as we step further inside.

The owner emerges from the back of the shop almost the moment we cross the threshold. When he speaks, his voice carries a slight Italian accent.

“Mr. Thorne. Welcome.” He inclines his head to Chloe. “And madam. Please, take your time. I’m at your disposal whenever you’re ready.”

I nod in acknowledgement, and he steps back, giving us space to look but staying within easy reach.

I steer Chloe toward a display of platinum rings, each inlaid with a perfectly-cut blue gem.

“See anything you like?” I prompt.

Her mouth twists as her gaze sweeps over them, and she shakes her head.

“Not yet.”

I can’t tell if she dislikes the options being presented, or if this is more about what the ring represents. Not for the first time today, frustration moves through me—not at Chloe, but at my parents, for springing this on us without warning.

I catch D’Angelo’s eye, and he quickly comes back over.

“We need a little help,” I tell him.

“Ah, of course. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Actually, we’d like to order a custom ring.”

“Custom? No problem at all.” He produces a small notepad from his pocket and clicks a pen, looking at me expectantly. “Can I get a description?”

I lay a hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “I’ll let my fiancée tell you what she wants.”

She glances at me in surprise, then goes quiet, actually considering it. “Something minimal, but well-crafted,” she says after a beat. “White gold, I think. Nothing too chunky or distracting.”

“And for the gem?” he asks.

“Colorless diamond,” she replies, “with gray spinel. Round cut.”

D’Angelo smiles, nodding. He seems impressed. “Very classic taste, madam, yet still unique.”

Classic, yet unique. I’m a little surprised by her choice. I was expecting an over-the-top piece, almost farcical. The kind of ring someone would order as a joke, since this whole marriage is just that to her.

Instead, she described something simple but elegant. Something that I might have ordered for my future wife if I had been choosing a ring. Her taste matches mine better than I’d thought.

“Good choice of stones,” I tell her without thinking. “The spinel will match your eyes exactly.”

She blinks, glancing at me in surprise. “What?”