Page 31 of Lucky Puck

“Let’s get this over with.”

“Indeed.” He sits. “Before we start, can I ask if you’ll need two replacement rings or one?”

“What do you mean?” Brooks says.

“Mr. Bigelow indicated you may need⁠—”

“Let’s discuss that later,” I say and place my hand palm down on the cloth he’s placed on the table.

The jeweler nods and turns my hand over so that it’s palm up.

“We’ll make the cut from this side where you have meatier flesh on the finger to…” He gives an apologetic smile and I hear Brooks suck in a breath.

“That doesn’t sound good,” she says. “Can’t you... I don’t know. Somehow⁠—”

“Yes,” the jeweler says. “Don’t worry.” He proceeds to stuff a cotton ball between the ring and my finger where it connects to my hand, as best he can. There’s not a lot of space. With the ring uncomfortably wedged with cotton at the bottom of my finger, the jeweler picks up the small saw.

Our eyes meet and I nod. He starts up the saw and it whines like a dentist’s drill. I’m watching it as he brings it toward my hand, trying not to flinch. Debating whether or not to look away, when Brooks moves closer, I turn and look at her.

Then, without planning to, I take her hand in my free hand and hold on as I feel the ring vibrating on my other hand. Then a few seconds later, I feel it snap apart and the whining of the saw silences instantly. Brooks smiles and I don’t look away from her as she watches the jeweler remove the remnants of the wedding band and hand it over to her.

“We’ll need another one just like it,” she says.

My mouth opens, but all I can do is laugh because she’s out of her mind.

“For the show girl,” she whispers, omitting the you arrogant ass I hear in her voice. “To replace this one.” She opens her hand where the broken gold band sits sadly in her palm. “We don’t want her to tell her fiancée what happened to his ring, do we?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but I shake my head, grinning like an idiot and rub my now bare ring finger with the kind of euphoria normally reserved for goal scoring or⁠—

“Follow me,” the jeweler says, leading us back to the front of the store where Bigelow and Star Baby wait for us.

I lean into Brooks and whisper, “What’s her name?”

She gives me a side-eye. “Tammi,” she says under her breath with enough annoyance to please me.

“Here are the three rings Bigelow has suggested for you.”

“Three—” I say at the same time as Brooks, and we trade glances like we’re on the same side, teamed up against… the jeweler? Bigelow?

Bigelow speaks up, aiming his confident smile at Brooks. “I took the liberty of choosing matching rings for you and Mr. Holden in light of⁠—”

“What did you do that for?” Brooks sputters with newfound indignance. “What are you thinking?”

“I think Bigs was just about to tell us what he’s thinking,” I point out and gesture for him to continue.

He nods at me. I don’t nod back because I’m doubtful he has a good enough explanation to convince me that I ought to be buying matching wedding bands for me and Brooks.

“In light of the recent explosion of social media about the wedding⁠—”

“What? Are you serious?” Brooks says. “Twenty minutes haven’t passed since⁠—”

Sabien coughs, laughs, and waves his hand. I tamp down my knee-jerk response to punch him.

“I agree with Bigelow,” Sabien puts in. “You can’t back out of this lie now. What are you going to tell people?”

Tammi audibly gasps. “You can’t tell anyone that I⁠—”

“We can’t keep on with this charade. It’s crazy. We should tell the truth,” Brooks says. I can tell she’s regretting the last twenty-four hours almost as much as I am.