NICK
The pawnshop we chose for the rings was on the nice side of Albuquerque. The place was upscale, and the guard at the door gave Priscilla a dirty look. “No dogs.”
Stella frowned and huffed. She reached down and patted Priscilla’s head, letting her leathery, silky ears slide between her fingers. “This isn’t a dog. It’s an accessory,” she said, smiling and lifting one shoulder.
The guy looked like he hadn’t smiled since Reagan was in office. He set his jaw and shook his head, which made his jowls shake. “No dogs, miss.”
Stella made another sweet little huff. “Please?”
The guard rubbed his nostril hair with his knuckle. “Store policy, ma’am. May surprise you, but they have a habit of pissing on the merchandise. I can’t be dicking around all day spraying Resolve on dog pee, you feel me?”
She pulled Priscilla out of her shoulder bag and bounced her like a baby. Oh man, oh man. “All right, but could we leave her with you?” She held Priscilla out to the guard, and Priscilla pawed the air, wiggling and kissing, trying so hard to get to the guy that even I started to smile.
Priscilla made whines and puffs, like she just couldn’t . . . even . . . stand . . . all . . . this . . . anticipation. As she squirmed, he did start to smile. As she licked the air, he really started to smile. I could almost hear his muscles creak. Finally, the guy opened up his arms.
“Oh yay! She’s really sweet,” Stella said, and handed her over. Priscilla sank her nose into his ear, and the guy let out a laugh like a mall Santa.
Together, hand in hand, we approached the jewelry display. The lady behind the counter was in her midsixties, give or take. She wore a faded old Harley T-shirt, cut low to show off leathery cleavage. “Lemme guess,” she said, looking from Stella to me and back again. “Ring shopping?”
Stella shifted her weight to one foot and pressed her shoulder against my arm. “Got it in one!”
“Coming right up,” said the woman, and she unlocked the display cases, placing velvet-lined ring trays in front of both of us.
She stepped to the side to give us some space, but not so far away that she’d lose track of any merchandise. Pawnshops knew every hustle there was.
Stella ran her index finger over the rings. I noticed her linger for a long time on a wire-fine antique band in the left row. “My grandma had a ring exactly like this,” she said, and placed it on her finger. It was a perfect fit, and it was beautiful on her. “God, I loved that ring.” She looked at her finger and shook her head. I felt her pain in my own heart. And all I could think was how badly I wanted to make it better.
But before I could tell the woman behind the counter we’d buy it, Stella had taken it off and placed it back where she found it. Straightening her shoulders, she took a breath and chose a different ring. It was clear to me what she’d been thinking. There was the ring Stella would’ve wanted for herself. And then there was the one that was best for Elizabeth to wear for this job, the one that fit the part; it was one that would match the engagement ring she was wearing now, which she’d taken from the puzzle box. The Elizabeth-style ring would have to do. For now.
Taking Stella’s hand in mine, I put on the brassy-gold band she’d picked out, and my heart went kawhump against my chest. I knew it wasn’t for real, but who the fuck was I kidding? It felt legit, just like I wanted it to be.
Her lips parted. Though we were in a pawnshop, it might as well have been at an altar. “That fit OK?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Perfectly.” Her face flushed with a bright-pink blush, and she reached for the men’s rings. From the rows of bands, traded in by dozens of guys with money problems and women problems and everything in between, she picked the ring I would’ve picked for myself. It was silver, nothing fancy. Nothing flashy. Just right.
She slid it on my finger and looked up at me.
That moment, in that too-bright pawnshop with Jimi Hendrix on the stereo, took my breath away like a punch to the chest. This was real, even if it was for show. This meant something, even if it was pretend. Sometimes the real truth was right in the middle of the lie.
I didn’t have the words for any of that, so I kissed her instead. Kissed her to tell her what I didn’t have the balls to say out loud—that I wanted to be buying her a ring for real. The woman behind the desk cleared her throat, and Stella and I pulled apart.
“We’ll take these two,” I said.
“Coming right up, lovebirds.”
When we were alone again, I tucked Stella’s hair behind her ear, leaned in, and told her, “You down for a little more shopping? We’ve got a road trip to take.”
She beamed up at me. In her eyes was light and heat. But most of all, a whole lot of trouble. I fucking loved it—sweet on the surface, molten hot underneath. She placed her palm on my chest and made a fist with her hand to pull my T-shirt tight. She got up on her tiptoes and whispered into my ear, “It’s go time.”