chapter 1

“Give me the ring back.”

Brighton Smith choked on a sip of lukewarm coffee as she stepped out of her fiancé’s blue sedan. She looked over her shoulder with a stunned smile. “What?”

“You heard me.” Colin clenched the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. “I want the ring back.”

Brighton felt her smile fade as traffic whizzed by beneath the overcast morning sky. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Colin, you . . .” Brighton trailed off as she considered how long it would take her to say everything she needed to say. How long it would take to listen to everything Colin needed to say. “Listen. Let’s table this discussion for right now. I’m late for work, you’re leaving for the entire weekend, and neither of us has eaten breakfast. We’ll sit down and work this out after we’ve had some protein and some time to calm down, okay?”

“I’m tired of waiting.” His voice was tight with tension. “This is it, Brighton: now or never.”

She took a slow, deep breath as her mind raced. “This isn’t fair and you know it.”

Colin held out his palm. “Give me the ring back.”

“No!” She covered her bejeweled ring finger with her other hand.

“Yes. I’ll find someone else—someone who will appreciate it. Someone who will appreciate me.” He waved his palm at her. “Give it back. Now.”

So she did. She had to work to get the slim platinum band past her knuckle, but when she finally managed, she dropped it into his outstretched hand with regal, icy dignity. “Call me when you’re ready to talk about this in a rational manner.”

“I’m done talking,” he said. “And I’m done waiting. I’m sick of all your rules and restrictions and terms and conditions.”

She snatched up her briefcase from the passenger seat and strode toward the office building, pausing to glance behind her. Colin’s car was still idling by the curb. He was still watching her and clutching the diamond ring.

She should turn around and rush back to him, she knew. They shouldn’t part like this when he was about to leave town. She always tried to fight fairly, to avoid drama, and to seek productive solutions. But Colin had just lashed out with no warning right in the middle of their morning commute. She felt bewildered and hurt . . . but also furious.

She had a meeting in ten minutes, and she knew that it took an average of seven and a half minutes to make it through the lobby, wait for the elevators, and arrive at her office on the fifth floor.

She straightened her shoulders and kept walking.

When she walked into the insurance firm’s corporate headquarters six minutes later (the elevator doors had opened just as she arrived in the lobby), her assistant glanced up from her computer with evident concern.

“Good morning.” Sherri put down her coffee mug and pushed back her chair. “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely.” Brighton shifted her briefcase from her right hand to her left, then reached up to touch her necklace, earrings, and shirt collar to ensure everything was in place. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Sherri kept staring. “You look pale.”

“Everything’s fine,” Brighton said firmly.

“Uh-huh.” Sherri’s gaze slid down to Brighton’s suit jacket. “You’ve got a little stain there. Looks like coffee.”

Brighton frowned down at her black wool lapel. “Yeah, the ride to work was kind of, um, bumpy.”

Sherri got to her feet. “Let me get you a paper towel.”

“No need.” Brighton motioned for her to sit back down. “I keep a stain stick in my desk drawer.”

“I should have known.” Sherri smiled as she handed Brighton a pile of papers. “Here’s the report you wanted me to print out.”

“Thanks.” Brighton prepared to head into the firm’s weekly Friday morning meeting.

“You’re welcome.” Sherri cleared her throat as she turned her attention back to her computer monitor. “And seriously, if you need to talk or anything . . .”

“Don’t be silly.” Brighton squared her shoulders. “I don’t need to talk; I just need to work. Everything’s under control.”