Page 16 of The Temporary Bride

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Ivy exclaims. This is more enthusiasm than I was prepared to encounter, and it’s difficult to match her energy, but I do my best to smile.

“Same here,” I say.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you?” That raises one of my eyebrows. When would Ivy have heard about me? Our engagement is brand new, and came out of nowhere.

“Unfortunately, I was just heading home,” Ivy says, oblivious to my surprise. “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around!”

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Of course.”

“Bye, guys!” She waves over her shoulder as she leaves. I notice Beckett, the younger of Tristan’s two brothers, watching her for a long time as she walks down the sidewalk.

“You don’t have to be worried about her, you know.”

Tristan’s voice catches me off guard, and I turn to him, defensive. “What?”

He’s grinning at me. “Were you jealous of her?”

I can feel heat in my cheeks, and glare at the ground, hoping he won’t see the flush. “No. Of course not.”

It’s a bald-faced lie. I know I wasn’t entirely able to hide my reaction to seeing her.

“Sure,” he says, although I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Well, whatever the case, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Ivy’s older brother Jackson is a good friend of ours.”

“We all basically see her as a sister,” Dominic adds.

Privately, I’m not sure that’s true. I saw the way Beckett looked at Ivy as she walked away, and I somehow doubt that he thinks of her as a sister. But I keep that thought to myself. After all, I’m not officially a member of the family yet, so this sort of observation is best kept quiet.

“So,” Tristan says with a quick glance down at his phone, “are you ready to go ring shopping?”

At the reminder of why we’re here, my stomach twists with nerves.

But I have to do this. We both do.

I meet his gaze when he looks back up at me, doing my best to hide the nerves rattling around inside me. “Let’s get it over with.”

Chapter 7

Tristan

The moment Beckett and Dominic leave the two of us alone, Chloe turns on her heel and approaches the door to the jewelry store, as if she can’t wait to be out of my presence. I glance up at the sign above the door, scowling.

This one is a corporate chain—Everly Jewelers. There’s one in every fucking mall in the country, and they run ad spots across some of our networks. I’m absolutely not about to buy my future wife a discount ring.

I reach out to grab her by the shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She throws me a curious, indignant look.

“Not there,” I explain. “We’re going somewhere else.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why? This is as good as anywhere. We’re just looking for a flashy rock.”

“No, it isn’t,” I say shortly. “Come on.”

She looks as though she’s about to argue, but instead grits her teeth and falls in step beside me.

For the entire walk over to the boutique, her expression is stiff, frozen. She doesn’t smile. Somewhat mournfully, I wonder if she plans to keep that stoic, businesslike face for our entire marriage.

When we reach the boutique, Chloe stops in her tracks, her brow furrowing. She looks up at the store’s gold-lettered sign, which reads D’Angelo Fine Jewelry.