Chapter 160 THE WRONG CONCLUSIONS - 43

Chapter 160 THE WRONG CONCLUSIONS - 43
COLE

Taking Jordan ring shopping felt like one of those decisions that could only ever end in one of two ways. Either he'd make the whole thing easier by stopping me from disappearing into my own head, or he'd turn what should have been a quiet Saturday morning into a story he'd be telling for the next twenty years. By the time we arrived outside the jeweller's, I still wasn't entirely sure which outcome I was hoping for.
The truth was, I hadn't invited him.
I'd intended to go on my own because buying an engagement ring didn't seem like something that required an audience, but Jordan had somehow worked out what I was doing before I'd even left the house. He'd appeared at my door that morning carrying two coffees and looking far too pleased with himself for someone who hadn't technically been included.
"You're not coming," I'd said, before even letting him inside.
He handed me one of the coffees as though we'd already settled the matter.
"I think you'll find I am."
"I think you'll find you aren't."
"You'll spend an hour comparing rings that all look almost identical, convince yourself you need another shop before making a decision, then go home without buying anything because you've decided more research is required."
I took a sip of my coffee.
"You've thought this through."
"I've watched you buy a laptop."
"...That was different."
"It took you three weeks."
"It was an expensive laptop."
"Cole."
He looked at me with the sort of patience usually reserved for children explaining why they'd tried to fix the television with a screwdriver.
"You once made a whole list to compare coffee machines."
"I wanted good coffee."
"You made categories."
"The categories were useful."
He smiled.
"They always are."
It was irritating how accurate he was.
Twenty minutes later we were walking into the jeweller's together.
The shop was tucked away on a quiet street, elegant without trying too hard, all polished wood and soft lighting with display cases that somehow made every ring look as though it belonged in a museum. A woman behind the counter welcomed us with an easy smile, and before I could explain why we were there Jordan had already wandered towards the nearest display.
"Oh, this one's nice."
His fingers were halfway to the glass before the assistant cleared her throat.
"I'm so sorry," she said politely. "If you'll let me take them out for you."
Jordan immediately stepped back.
"Right. Of course. That makes much more sense."
I apologised on his behalf with a look.
"It's quite all right," she said, still smiling.
"We're looking for an engagement ring."
"For him," Jordan added helpfully, pointing at me as though there might otherwise have been some confusion. "Not me. I'm emotionally invested, but not financially."
The assistant laughed, and thankfully seemed to understand the dynamic almost immediately.
"Can you tell me a little about her?"
I was still deciding where to start when Jordan answered first.
"She's clever enough that he actually enjoys losing arguments to her."
"I don't enjoy losing arguments."
"You enjoy arguing with her."
"That's…. actually true."
He folded his arms with obvious satisfaction before turning back to the assistant.
"She doesn't like flashy things. If the ring looks like it's trying too hard, she'll spend the rest of the day worrying about how much it cost instead of enjoying the fact that he's proposing."
That, irritatingly, was also true.
The assistant nodded thoughtfully before disappearing for a moment and returning with three rings laid neatly on a velvet tray.
"They're all quite classic," she said. "Elegant without being overly ornate."
Jordan leaned in immediately, studying them with surprising concentration.
"This one feels too formal," he murmured, pointing at the first. "She'd wear it because she loves him, but she'd secretly think it belonged to someone else."
"You've become an expert very quickly."
"I watch films."
"I'm not convinced that's all there is to it."
"It absolutely is."
The assistant smiled and began explaining the different settings while I listened, but somewhere in the middle of her explanation my attention drifted.
Not because the rings weren't beautiful.
They were.
It was just that I'd already noticed another one the moment we'd walked in, sitting quietly in the case a little further along, and no matter how hard I tried to compare the three in front of me, I kept finding my eyes wandering back to the same place.
"Could I see that one instead?"
The assistant followed my gaze to the ring sitting quietly in the corner of the display and reached for it without hesitation. She placed it on the tray in front of me, then stepped back, giving me the space to look without filling the silence.
Jordan looked from the ring to me.
"You spotted that one when we walked in."
"I think I did."
"You've barely looked at anything else."
"I know."
I picked it up then, turning it slowly between my fingers. It wasn't the biggest diamond in the room or the most intricate setting, but none of that mattered. There was something understated about it that reminded me of Vivienne, not because she faded into the background, but because she'd never needed anything loud to command a room. She walked into places with nothing to prove, said exactly what she thought, and somehow left everyone else feeling as though they should have prepared better.
I pictured it on her hand without really meaning to.
"That's the one," I said.
The words came out so easily that I surprised myself.
Jordan blinked.
"You're done?"
I nodded.
"That was... unexpectedly decisive."
"I don't think there was anything to think much about especially after seeing this one."
He looked at me for a second before smiling to himself.
"I was getting ready for at least forty minutes of deliberation."
"So was I."
Instead, I spent those forty minutes sorting out sizing, insurance and the engraving while Jordan wandered to the opposite side of the showroom, where he'd somehow convinced another assistant to show him a tray of cufflinks despite having absolutely no intention of buying any.
When everything was finished, the woman behind the counter closed the small navy box and slid it across to me with a warm smile.
"I hope she loves it."
I slipped it carefully into the inside pocket of my jacket.
"So do I."
Jordan waited until we'd stepped back onto the pavement before speaking again.
"Do you have a plan?"
"Not really."
"Good."
I glanced sideways at him.
"You seem unusually pleased by that answer."
"Because the minute you start planning a proposal down to the second, it stops sounding like you and starts sounding like a corporate event."
"I wasn't planning a corporate event."
"You'd accidentally make one."
"I don't think I would."
"You'd have an itinerary."
"I absolutely would not have an itinerary."
He gave me a look.
I laughed, shaking my head.
"I was thinking dinner."
"Dinner's nice."
"Or a walk."
"Also nice."
He shrugged.
"Just don't overcomplicate it. She isn't in love with the expensive dinners or the view or whatever speech you think you should write. She's in love with you, which, against all odds, seems to be enough."
The joke was typical Jordan.
We walked another block before he spoke again, quieter this time.
"How did you know it was the right ring?"
I thought about the first time we'd met, and the months that had followed after that. I thought about late nights in conference rooms, bad coffee from a petrol station, the cabin, burnt eggs she'd declared beyond saving, and the way she'd looked at me the first time she wore one of my shirts as though she'd forgotten it wasn't hers.
Then I thought about the ring sitting in my pocket.
"I looked at it," I said, "and I couldn't picture her wearing anything else."
Jordan nodded once, like that was the answer he'd expected all along.
"She's going to say yes."
"You sound very certain."
"I am."
"What makes you so sure?"
He smiled.
"Because I watched her spend months pretending she wasn't in love with you."
I didn't argue. There didn't seem much point.
At the next corner he stopped and turned towards me.
"When the moment comes, don't wait for perfect. There isn't one. Just ask her when it feels right."
I slipped my hand into my pocket, my thumb brushing against the edge of the little navy box, and for the first time since walking into the jeweller's that morning, I stopped wondering whether I'd made the right decision.
I already knew I had.