Five Stolen Rings

Chapter 19

STELLA

“So about six months ago, a guy started coming by our office,” I say.

Jack gives me a slow nod, his eyes narrowed. He’s standing in his little kitchen, leaning back against the counter, his arms folded over his chest. I, meanwhile, am seated at the table, a few sandwich crusts in front of me.

“He said he was from the New York office, and he was visiting to coordinate some projects,” I go on. This story is probably the most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to me, but Jack picked me up while I was drunk and embarrassed and crying about it. He heard enough that there’s no point in keeping it to myself anymore.

“Okay,” he says now, nodding again. “Keep going.”

“Right. So.” I take a deep breath and fix my gaze somewhere past his shoulder. “He was a little older than me but not too much, and he was really attractive, and he flirted with me a lot. ”

Jack lets out a rough exhale, unfolding his arms. “All right, fine. Go on.”

“He was giving off major signals,” I say, and it’s clear by the look on Jack’s face that he can see where this is going. “He tucked my hair behind my ear one time. He told me we should grab a drink and I could tell him about my ideas for the project I was working on. He said stuff like ‘Hey, Beautiful’ and ‘Hey, Gorgeous.’”

Jack’s expression sours, and he grunts, waving at me to continue.

I grab the crust from my ham sandwich and shove it in my mouth, just to give me a second. “I thought he was just a single, available guy,” I say when I’m done chewing. “He told me he preferred to go by his middle name, Nate.” I shrug, playing with the few remaining crumbs on the table in front of me. “One day when we were in the elevator together on the way out of the office, he tapped his cheek and asked if he could have a parting kiss. I was so surprised I didn’t say anything, and he laughed it off. Said he was joking. But I could tell he wasn’t. And I did like him,” I go on. “I would have been open to seeing where a relationship went. So the next day…”

Jack gives me all of three seconds before he gestures impatiently for me to keep going. There’s a muscle jumping in his jaw, but other than that, his face is impassive.

My face is not impassive. I can feel the vivid heat in my cheeks, the embarrassment and humiliation and even anger—at myself, at Nate, at the company for firing me.

I kind of want to go back into Jack’s bedroom and stick my head out the window again.

But I don’t. I plow on. I have a feeling if I said I didn’t want to talk about the rest of it, Jack wouldn’t make me, but I’ve come this far—and to be honest, it feels good to get it out. It feels good to tell someone besides my parents the whole story.

I inhale deeply and then speak. “The next day I decided to make my move. When we were in the elevator at the end of the day again, I kissed him. But the elevator doors opened, and there was a woman standing there”—I take another deep breath and force the last words out—“who turned out to be his wife.”

“His wife,” Jack repeats in a flat voice.

I nod miserably. “And apparently, Nate from the New York office was actually Fuller Nathan Smith Junior, one of the sons from Smith and Sons.” I sigh, propping my head on my hands. “I was fired, obviously, and even though they tried to keep everything hush-hush, most of the people I worked with found out.”

“I…that’s not even legal,” Jack says slowly, his brow furrowed. “Firing you for that, I mean.”

My shrug is halfhearted at best. “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I would never want to work there again anyway. I made some mistakes, but the way they handled the situation put a very sour taste in my mouth.”

“What mistakes did you make?” he says, angry now. “He’s the one who?—”

“I didn’t do my homework, Jack,” I say, cutting him off. I’m suddenly very, very tired. “I could have found out more about this guy if I’d just asked around. But he was so secretive with me that I subconsciously acted the same way. I didn’t tell anyone about him. And I kissed him at work.” I shrug again. “He was a cheating jerk, but I could have been smarter.”

“You did nothing wrong, ” he says, his eyes flashing. “Sue them. Good grief, Princess—you should absolutely sue them. And then I’ll hop over to California and kick that guy in the?—”

“Jack,” I say, exhaling. “Please.”

His eyes dart over my face, and for a moment it looks like he wants to say more. But eventually he just nods, a curt jerk of his head that’s equal parts I still don’t like it and I respect your opinion.

I fold my arms on the table and rest my head there as something strange settles inside me—a weight, not the bad kind but the steady, grounding, reassuring kind, like a heavy blanket on a cold night. There’s a peace, too, that rushes in and fills the void where this secret has been festering.

It feels…nice. And somehow Jack’s response is exactly what I need; he’s on my side, but he’s not going to push me.

“So what now?” he says.

“Find another job. Earn money. Stand on my own two feet,” I say, the words muffled because my head is still buried in my arms.

“Have you been looking for another job?” he says. The words aren’t skeptical or accusatory; they’re just curious.

“No,” I say with a sigh. “I’ve been…” Sulking? Wallowing in denial? Licking my wounds? “I’m going to,” I settle on.

Because…I think it’s time.

What happened to me was unfair. But I can’t change it. And I could fight back, but it would be time and energy that I could spend more productively by moving forward.

Maybe learning how to fail really just means learning how to stand back up. It seems easy, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel easy.

But maybe easy and simple are not the same thing .

“Yeah,” I say, lifting my head now as something solidifies in my mind. I meet Jack’s eye and nod. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to find a new job.”

JACK

I’ve never thought I was a good actor. I don’t have the patience to act, to pretend. There are other places I’d rather spend my energy.

Or so I thought—until today.

Because as it turns out, all that’s really needed for me to give an Academy-Award-worthy performance is sheer panic and desperation.

It doesn’t help that I’m pissed about what happened to Stella at her old job.

Calm down, I tell myself for the millionth time in the last twenty minutes. Just calm down.

But it’s no good; I’m still angry.

I’m angry that some tool thought he could make her the other woman. I’m angry that she got fired for something that wasn’t her fault.

I’m angry at myself for how angry I am.

And I’m still worrying, still studying her like a weirdo, trying to find any hint that she might remember what Benny let slip at the café.

That I was the one who called her that day—that I was the one who heard about the earthquake where she was living and temporarily lost my mind. That I was crazy about her for years.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying subtly to take myself through the breathing exercises Dr. Barb taught me. They don’t do a whole lot, but it’s good to keep trying.

I’m grateful when my phone buzzes; it’s a welcome distraction from watching Stella as she browses my bookcases. So I pull the phone out of my pocket.

A scowl forms on my face, though, when I see that it’s a text from Benny.

Benny

You can punch me if you want

Me

I do want.

Benny

Taking me to my mom’s house was cruel though

Me

You deserved it.

Benny

She hit me over the head with her shoe, man

Multiple times

Then she made me eat three helpings of her spaghetti

Me

Your mom makes the best spaghetti in the world!

Benny

I’m watching my carb intake

Me

I thought you were watching your alcohol intake too

Benny

Three punches. I’ll give you three

…Still a lone wolf, or has she worn you down?

I snort and shove my phone back into my pocket, because his question doesn’t deserve an answer. Then I turn to Stella, who’s still trailing one finger over my shelves. Her blonde hair tumbles down her back in messy waves, and it makes some idiotic part of me happy that she’s not worried about how she looks here. She’s dressed simply in dark jeans and a white sweater, but it’s incredibly appealing on her.

Lone wolf aside, I have to admit—I can see why Nate the Philandering Moron was interested.

And at this thought, another hot wave of fury washes over me, momentarily drowning out all my anxieties about what Stella might or might not learn about my feelings.

She was fired from her dream job because she tried to accept the advances of a man she didn’t know was married, and he just happened to be the company’s son. It’s so supremely unfair that I want to punch someone—Benny, or maybe Nate the Philanderer, or both would be even better.

But now she’s going to look for a new job, and she’s not an alcoholic, and I had the absolute pleasure of seeing her try to climb out of my bedroom window. Maybe some good has come out of today, and I find my lips tugging into a smile.

“See anything good?” I say to her.

“Yeah,” she says, a smirk on her face as she looks over her shoulder at me. She holds up the book in her hand— Christmas Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella. “What’s this?”

I shrug, feeling a little defensive. “Book club.”

She just smiles.