chapter 31

“Thanks so much for taking me in.” Brighton stood under the porch light along with her massive furry sidekick. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“No problem.” Kira, squinty eyed and wild haired in her pajamas, waved Brighton into her apartment. “You’re always welcome. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Rory. He’s a sweetie but he does shed, so I understand if you don’t want him in your house.” Brighton glanced back at her car, wondering where else she could take him at this hour of the night.

“Don’t be silly. Bring him in.” Kira led the way to the small, cozy kitchen, where she prepared a glass of warm milk for Brighton and a bowl of water for Rory. “So, what’s going on?”

“I need you to arm me with the verbal equivalent of a nuclear bomb.”

“Yeah, I try to use my powers for good.” After she handed out beverages, Kira directed Brighton and Rory to an oversize sofa, then handed out blankets and pillows.

Brighton kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch. “I’m trying to quit Jake, but willpower alone doesn’t seem to be working. At all. Logic’s not working, drinking’s not working, and work’s not working.”

Kira wrapped a soft blue afghan around her shoulders. “Work’s not working?”

“No. And work always works for me. This is officially a crisis.”

Kira stifled a yawn. “I hate to sound simplistic—”

“Go ahead,” Brighton urged. “The simplest solutions are usually the best.”

“—but have you tried just talking to him?”

“Yes. It made things worse.”

“Oh.”

“There’s something wrong with me, Kira. I’m too structured, too cautious. Men just keep walking away from me.”

“Be kind to yourself.” Kira reached over to pat Brighton’s foot. “Whatever’s going on with Jake has nothing to do with what happened with Colin.”

Colin. Brighton was shocked to realize that she hadn’t thought about her fiancé in days. Her mind and heart and body had been completely consumed with Jake. She’d been determined to forget all about her ex, and she’d succeeded.

And now she had all new problems.

“Here’s my deal,” she announced. “I want to cut ties with Jake. Scratch that—want has nothing to do with it. I need to cut ties with him.”

Kira’s expression remained totally neutral. “Okay.”

“Take your therapist face somewhere else.” Brighton scowled. “Just be my friend.”

“I am your friend.”

“Then as my friend, you have to admit that I’m stuck in a hellish cycle of futility with this guy.”

Kira leaned over to grab a box of cookies from the coffee table. “You mean your husband?”

“Don’t rub it in.” Brighton accepted a gingersnap from her friend. “The man is so emotionally unavailable—”

“Are you emotionally available?”

“That’s not relevant; we’re talking about him. He uses sex as a smokescreen, he uses money as a placeholder for love, he’s still hung up on some chick from fifteen years ago . . . and I stand for it. I not only stand for it—I keep going back for more!”

Kira nodded. “I heard about the attorney’s office.”

“You and everyone else. It would be easier, actually, if he hated me, but he doesn’t. He likes me and he wants to spend time with me, but only when it’s convenient for him. If some gorgeous ex-wife shows up at the door, party’s over. Until he wants to hang out again. And then we have sex and he decamps for the guesthouse. Rinse and repeat until I’ve lost all sanity and self-respect.”

“Is he still really into his ex from fifteen years ago?”

“He says he isn’t, but something’s going on.” She tried to explain about Genevieve. “He refuses to let her tough it out in the cold, cruel world on her own. And she still has his grandmother’s ring after all these years, even though she was too embarrassed to ever actually wear it because it wasn’t five flawless carats from Tiffany. How could he fall in love with someone like that?” Brighton looked at Kira. “Here’s the part where you say something deep and meaningful.”

Kira patted the patch of sofa next to her and Rory climbed up. “The person we choose as a partner says a lot about how we feel about ourselves.”

“We both set ourselves up for failure,” Brighton realized. “I’m always going to be too much for him, and he’s never going to be enough for me.”

“Well then . . .”

“That’s it!” Brighton snapped her fingers. “I know exactly what to do to make a clean break forever. You’re a great therapist.”

“But I didn’t even say anything,” Kira pointed out.

“If you’re this good off duty, I can only imagine how awesome you must be in your office.”

Kira nibbled another gingersnap. “Glad I could help.”

“It’s obvious,” Brighton mused. “I am emotionally unavailable, and that’s just the way he likes it. When I push him away, he pulls me back in. But I know how to end this once and for all.”

“You do?” Kira asked in a tone that conveyed she was kind of afraid to ask.

Brighton raised her glass in triumph. “How do you solve a problem like Jake Sorensen? Three little words for the win.”

•   •   •

The next morning, Brighton and Kira slept in, took Rory for a romp in the park, and then strolled down to Main Street for brunch at the Jilted Café. The clear skies and calm water imbued Brighton with renewed optimism.

They had to wait five minutes for a table, during which at least a dozen locals approached and said hello to Kira. Many of these strangers politely introduced themselves to Brighton, but they all had a knowing look in their eyes.

As the hostess led them to a table by the front window, Brighton said, “Every single person in here knows about what happened at the attorney’s office yesterday, don’t they?”

“Yep.” Kira settled into the booth and picked up her menu. “But don’t worry—there’ll be a fresh new scandal to take the heat off you soon enough. Give it a day or two.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Brighton scanned the breakfast offerings. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I feel like I’ve heard that before,” Kira teased.

Before Brighton could insist that she really meant it this time, Jenna slid onto the booth with them. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a question. You deal with lots of engagement rings, right?”

“Yes,” Brighton confirmed.

Jenna turned to Kira. “And you deal with lots of relationship problems, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me ask you guys a hypothetical question.”

“Oh boy,” Brighton and Kira chorused.

“Let’s just say that—hypothetically—you had a customer come in and ask for advice about surprising her boyfriend for a special occasion. But then, a few days later, you overhear the boyfriend talking to one of his buddies about trying to surprise his girlfriend in a similar fashion.”

“I’d say that these people are mind-melded freaks of nature,” Kira replied.

Brighton gave her a look. “That’s helpful.”

Kira laughed and reached for her coffee cup. “I can’t say more than that without knowing more details.”

“I can.” Brighton grabbed her purse and nodded at Jenna. “Shall we adjourn to the ladies’ room?”

After triple-checking that the restroom stalls were eavesdropper-free, Brighton leaned back against the sink and asked, “Are you by any chance referring to a couple whose initials are L and M?”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Because I’m designing the rings that they’re hell-bent on keeping secret from each other.”

“Oh, thank God we can talk about this. It’s killing me. The pressure! The suspense!” Jenna slumped back against the white tile wall. “Those two have to do everything the hard way.”

“It’s a quick-draw proposal,” Brighton said.

“Well, what should we do? Should we tell one of them to back off?”

Brighton crossed her arms, deliberating. “Which one? And what would our line of reasoning be?” They pondered this for a moment; then Brighton concluded, “We’re better off not trying to interfere.”

“You’re just going to hand over the rings to whoever asks about them first and let the chips fall where they may?”

“That doesn’t seem fair, either.” More pondering and listening to the faucet drip. “Okay, what about this?” Brighton said. “I’ll get the rings ready. You rustle up a bottle of the finest champagne this side of Paris.”

“And then?”

“We give them a time and place and let them shoot it out. Battle of the bling. Winner take all.”

•   •   •

“Great news.” Brighton announced when she joined Lila at the Naked Finger that afternoon. “I finished all the drawings for the poison ring and the bench jeweler said it should be done in a few days. We’ll FedEx it to Clea the second the platinum cools.” She smiled slyly and reached into her bag. “And more importantly, the ring for Malcolm is done.”

“Ooh, gimme!” Lila snatched the box out of Brighton’s hand and pried open the lid to examine the strong, simple platinum band. “It’s just what I was hoping for. Understated and perfect proportions.” She checked the inside of the band for the engraving. “Brighton, this is why you can never leave.”

“We’re not having that conversation again,” Brighton said. “Let’s talk about something more uplifting. Namely, the details of your big proposal. How are you going to ask him?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that.” Lila nibbled her lower lip. “I kind of wanted to go back to where we had our first date, out by the cliff where we used to have bonfires in high school. The problem is it doesn’t exist anymore. A bunch of developers got together, bulldozed it, and threw up a bunch of mansions for rich people.”

Brighton made a face. “Boo.”

“Yeah.” Lila raised one eyebrow. “And guess who lives in the house right where the bonfire pit used to be?”

Brighton took a seat and hooked one arm over the back of the chair. “Could it be . . . the man who ruins everything?”

“Why, yes, it could. Don’t Be Koi is sitting smack-dab on the site of our first date.”

“Eight thousand square feet of wasted resources,” Brighton said. “Do you know he hardly spends any time in that house?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s criminal. Have you seen the inside?”

“I waited in the foyer once while Malcolm had to drop something off,” Lila said. “It was very Architectural Digest.”

“The whole house is like that.” Brighton got agitated just thinking about it. “Italian linens and custom upholstery and artwork from the trendiest galleries in SoHo.”

“Refresh my memory: You’re moving out why?”

Brighton ignored this. “And he doesn’t even appreciate it. He sleeps, works, and hangs out in the guesthouse—which is smaller than the closet in the master suite, by the way—with his dog.”

“Jake doesn’t have a dog.”

“Oh yes, he does. It’s some kind of mastiff mix. His name is Rory.”

Lila looked supremely skeptical. “I’ve never seen him with a dog.”

“Yes, well, that’s why his dog is slowly becoming my dog.” Brighton smiled as she thought about Rory, who was deeply attached to the fleecy square dog bed she’d bought to save Kira’s couch from his nonstop drooling. “I’m not afraid of commitment.”

“Ooh, a canine love triangle,” Lila said. “Good luck with that.”

“If you’re done mocking me, can we get back to your proposal now?”

“I guess. So the first-date site is out because I don’t want to propose to Malcolm in Jake’s living room.”

“I’m sure Jake would be happy to let you do that. It’s not like he’s using it.”

Lila leaned back against the watch display case. “I’m not asking him to marry me in his boss’s living room.”

“When you put it that way . . . ,” Brighton conceded.

“I want to keep it simple and romantic.”

Brighton pretended to rack her brain for ideas. “Maybe you could meet him at the Whinery, have Jenna bring you guys a really nice bottle of champagne, and pop the question. Done.”

Lila considered this. “We have had some good times at the Whinery. The night I first got back into town, he got sweat on my sweater.”

“Sounds hot.”

“You know, it kinda was.” Lila fanned her face.

“Talk to Jenna about reserving the place tonight for an hour or two. I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige.”

Lila’s eyebrows shot up. “Tonight?”

“No time like the present.”

“Yeah, but . . .” Lila tilted her head to one side, then the other. “You don’t think a proposal at a restaurant with champagne is cheesy? Clichéd?”

“It’s classic,” Brighton assured her. “Like a little black dress or a strand of pearls.”

“Classic,” Lila echoed. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m definitely right,” Brighton said. “Ask him tonight. No stress, no drama, no agonizing wait.”

But Lila couldn’t seem to shake the last vestiges of hesitation. “Should I be worried that this all seems too easy?”

“I’m no expert.” Brighton sighed. “But I’m pretty sure that this part of love—the falling in love and deciding to get married—is supposed to be easy.”

“You’re right.” Lila brightened and clasped her hands. “I love him so much, Brighton. I hope he says yes.”

Brighton gave her a look. “Are you really worried about that?”

“No.” Lila flipped her hair. “How could he resist me? He can’t. We’re meant to be.”

“I’m sure you’re going to be very happy together. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to return a client call.” She stepped outside and dialed Malcolm’s number. “Good news—the ring is ready and it looks beautiful. I took a few photos and I’m texting them to you right now.”

“You think she’ll like it?” he asked.

“She’ll love it,” Brighton assured him. “The metalwork is perfect and the diamond is gorgeous.”

“I hope she says yes.”

“How could she resist you? You two are meant to be.”

“When can I pick it up?” he asked.

“Yes, about that . . .” Brighton tried to sound brisk and businesslike as she implemented phase two of the plan. “I can’t keep it in the safe here, obviously, because I don’t want Lila to see it. So I’ve asked Jenna at the Whinery to keep it in her office safe.”

“That’s great,” Malcolm said. “Because I was planning to propose at the Whinery.”

“What a coincidence! This is definitely fate. Tell you what—we’ll coordinate our schedules and this will all come together flawlessly.”