Page 32 of Lie With Me
Strike two: being rude and acting vapid.
“Are you trying to make her hate you?” he asks incredulously.
“Yeah,” I state like it should be obvious. “If she doesn’t like me, she’ll never think we’ll last. So,it won’t be a surprise when we eventually break up. Plus, this way, she won’t even bother doing a background check on me. I won’t be a problem she needs to take care of. I’ll be one that she thinks you’ll grow tired of before we make it down the aisle.”
“Have you considered that maybe I won’t grow tired of you? Or that our best friends are getting married soon? You aren’t going to be able to get rid of me that easily.”
Before either of us can say another word, his driver announces, “We’re here, sir.”
Here? Where is here?
Turning to look out the window, I can’t help the squeal that escapes my lips when I see what store we’ve parked outside of. “Harry freaking Winston?!”
“I told you I was grateful. You deserve it.”
As he helps me out of the car, I look through the store's windows in a daze. “Did Ginny tell you I’m obsessed with Harry?”
Pulling me behind him, he doesn’t release my hand as he teases, “No, Viv. And I don’t want to hear about your obsession with other men. I’m finding I’m a very jealous man when it comes to you.”
The giggle I let out dies in my throat as we enter the prestigious jewelry store, and a lady with a knowing smile greets us. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kennedy. We’ve pulled a great selection for you to look at and have you set up in the back. If you’ll please follow me.”
As we walk through the space, I admire the glittering jewels in the spaced out cases, staring in awe at pieces I’ve viewed online millions of times. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be in the presence of such luxury, mere moments away from selecting a member of their family to place on my ring finger.
“So, this is what we have in store, but of course, we can always make something custom. Do you have a cut in mind?” the associate asks.
Tripp leans into me, speaking quietly as his hand untangles from mine to rest on my lower back. “Pick whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“If you were just browsing, what would you choose? What would you want to wear on your finger for the rest of your life?”
“Just warning you, regardless of what I said to Emily, I wouldn’t pick something small. I may have dainty fingers, but they are perfect for the classic emerald-cut with baguettes.” I’ve dreamt about that ring since I learned the words Harry Winston. There is no way I will pass up the opportunity to wear it, even if it’s just for a little while.
“Excellent choice, ma’am. We have the one, three, and four-carat in store,” the lady informs.
“Oh, one is–”
“We’ll take the four-carat,” Tripp interrupts.
After sizing my finger, she walks off with a slight dip of her head and a perceptive grin plastered on her face.
“Tripp, four is too much. What are you going to do with it afterward? Save it for your real future wife?” I try to argue, but he just smiles and ignores me.
“Do you have to work today?”
“No. Sundays are my day off unless I pick up a shift at the restaurant I sometimes work at, but I’ve been doing that less and working at the club more.”
I ignore the way his eyes darken at this news, but I don’t tell him I’m working at the club more because the Confessional clients don’t pay as much as the Dreamers or Desires ones do.
“Spend the rest of the day with me.” It’s a command—not a request.
As much as I want to, I know that I need to put a little space between us. Tripp is diving headfirst into the rolling ocean of shit I’ve gotten us into, and I don’t know how to swim.
My thoughts must project the hundred and ten miles that separate me from my past because my phone pings in my pocket, demanding my attention before giving him an answer.
They are trying to kill me. Why are you doing this to me? Do you want me dead that badly?
Most of the time, Momma’s messages don’t make any sense. But this one jars me. There’s a fifty-fifty chance she’s talking nonsense, but a small part of me wonders if someone found out where she’s at.