Chapter 43
Brant
I keep the ring in my office, in the main drawer of my desk. Its box is worn, my hands turning the velvet over too many times to count. More than it was built for.
I bought the ring thirteen months ago. On a whim, my head clearing enough to realize that I was downtown, for a reason I didn’t know, a swarm of people around, the daily grudgefuck that was San Francisco. I hate this city, its shove of too many people in too tight a space, the fight for air claustrophobic in its necessity. I stood on that crowded street, dirty cracks underfoot, and saw the jeweler, across the street, a silver sign of black and white calm against the madness that was the crowded street. I worked my way through the crowd and stepped inside. Earrings maybe. Something to glint among the dark curls of her hair. I stepped into the calm and quiet of expensive and breathed easier. Smiled at the man who greeted me. Stepped, not to the display of necklaces and earrings, but to the left, my legs pulling me toward the glittering expanse of engagement rings.
I didn’t know what I was thinking. I couldn’t propose without coming clean. Without telling her about the black in my soul. I am damaged goods. I know that. She deserves to know that. To know what she is stepping into. The pain that I will drag her through, should the medication ever stop working. But all that left my mind when I stepped up to the glass. When my eyes scrolled over mediocre rings and stabbed the surface above one cluster of settings. “Let me see those.”
I walked out without a ring. There hadn’t been anything worthy of her. But they had worked with me. Tracked down a stone that fit her. A natural blue diamond. It took them three weeks to find one large enough. 2.41 carats, in the shape of a shield. A unique shape, a unique stone, perfect for her. They put it in a simple setting, then delivered it by Brink trunk. It sat in my desk for another month before I felt secure, felt right. The biggest decision of my life, more important than any deal, any development. I carefully weighed the decision, analyzed pros and cons, examined every facet of my relationship with Layana. Looked at it as a business decision, even though marriage should be anything but. But I already knew what my heart felt. No point in holding it underwater to drown in an unwinnable situation. I needed to go through an analytical process to ensure success.
Before proposing, I completed the analysis for me (positive result), and then for her. Tried to determine if this was a smart decision for her. Tried to anticipate the fallout that would occur if or when she discovered my secrets. Maybe she would be fine. Maybe she’d understand.
Or maybe she’d run for the hills.
I had stewed over it, worked through scenarios, turned that ring over a thousand times… then I had gone for it. Made a decision, let my accountants and family know, and said goodbye to all logical reason.
Love. It makes us do crazy things.
I rolled the ring against the pad of my thumb, watching the unclaimed diamond flash in the light from my desk lamp. Then I set it back in its box, closing the lid, and returned it to its semi-permanent home. I turned off the lamp and sat there for a long moment, my office and my heart empty and silent.
