needed to make a career change. But how could he possibly pick an end date for the relationship?
“And more about Jenny?” Jeffrey guessed.
“It’s complicated,” Mitch allowed, tired of pussyfooting around.
“Make it simple.”
“I can’t.”
“You know, man. If you don’t want her.”
Mitch felt his blood pressure spike, and his hands curled into fists. He struggled not to snarl at Jeffrey. “You can’t have her.”
“Dude. Did you just see what you did there?”
“Showed some good taste?”
“Your head flies off at the mere thought that some other guy might look at her.”
“Not every other guy.” Just guys like Jeffrey who would most certainly hurt her. Mostly. And, yeah, okay, all the other guys, too.
“Yes,” Jeffrey articulated slowly. “Every other guy. And I’ve already made my position crystal clear when it comes to Jenny. So you have less reason to worry about me than most guys. But look at you.”
Mitch couldn’t argue. For a long moment, he found himself imagining her expression if he was to give her that ring in the window. And then what? Marry her?
Part of him wanted to go for it, but a more rational part worried this was all happening too fast. It couldn’t be real.
“Let’s go grab a beer,” Jeffrey suggested.
“Only if we change the subject.”
“No problem.”
“The lounge is on five.”
“Let’s leave the hotel. There are some great places down Pennsylvania Ave.”
Mitch shrugged. What did it matter? Liquor was probably as good a way as any to switch up his thought patterns. And he didn’t really care where he drank it.
A uniformed doorman let them out, and they turned right, going against the majority of pedestrian traffic along the wide sidewalk. It was four in the afternoon, late enough that the business crowd was swelling the streets, while last-minute shoppers rushed through their errands. The street was a maze of cars, minivans, buses and high-end automobiles ferrying VIPs from meetings to dinners to corporate and political functions.
“See, if it was me,” said Jeffrey, pulling on a glass shop door. “I’d wow her with something along these lines.”
Confused, Mitch glanced at the sign. Too late, he realized Jeffrey had just ushered him into the showroom at Tiffany’s.
“Very funny.” Mitch gave a mock laugh, while a salesman quickly approached them, obviously appraising the quality of their suits and watches as he did.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the man greeted heartily.
“Just looking,” Mitch quickly put in.
“Something in a solitaire,” said Jeffrey. “The last one he liked had a couple of small emeralds.”
The man beamed. “I’m Roger Stromberg. At your service. Please, let me show you our Esteme collection.”
He motioned them toward one side of the store, and Jeffrey immediately fell in behind.
“I’m outta here,” Mitch declared.
Jeffrey clapped a firm hand on his back. “Wouldn’t try it if I was you. You’ve got a bum shoulder, and I’m a better tackle.”
“This joke’s gone on long enough.”
“He’s got cold feet,” Jeffrey loudly explained to the salesman, dropping his large frame into one of two padded chairs in front of a display case.
“I understand.” The suited salesman gave a sage nod. “Thing to remember in this circumstance is that picking out a ring doesn’t commit you to anything. We’re happy to keep it on hold for a period of time. Or we’ll simply use today to make sure you understand your options. Then if, at a later date, you want to make a quick decision, you’re all set.
“These ones here-” he pulled three rings from the display and set them in their cases on top of the glass “-are all flawless, D and E.” He glanced up. “Do you mind if I ask your price range?”
“Not an object,” said Jeffrey.
Mitch gave up and took a seat. “I sure hope you’re the guy popping the question,” he said to Jeffrey. “Because I’m just a spectator on this.”
Jeffrey and the salesman exchanged a significant glance, but Mitch just chuckled to himself. Jeffrey wasn’t going to goad him into anything so rash as choosing a ring.
Twelve
Jenny was going to be a single mother.
She couldn’t believe it. She could barely bring herself to acknowledge it, never mind say it out loud. She’d checked the test wand four times this morning. Twice in the bathroom, again halfway down the stairs, then she’d pulled it out of the trash once, just to be sure.
The line was blue.
She was pregnant.
Thank goodness Mitch was out of town. She’d landed right smack-dab in her mother’s predicament. Difference was, she wasn’t going to repeat her mother’s mistake.
She absolutely would not let a man marry her because she was pregnant and then start hating her. Still, in her weaker moments, she’d caught herself thinking about telling Mitch, imagined him breaking into a wide smile, telling her he was happy, assuring her they were going to make it work. But then she’d exit Wonderland and pull herself together.
Reality was hitting her fast and hard. Since arriving at the office, she’d twice had to dash to the bathroom to vomit. And she was facing the stark fact that she was going to have a baby all by herself.
Just like her mother, she’d have to hold down a job, juggle day care and PTA meetings, make budgetary ends meet and try to comfort a lonely little boy or girl who desperately wanted siblings.
Working her way compulsively around the office, she shoved the sparkling clean coffeepot back into the freshly polished machine that sat on a compact, shiny countertop in the corner of the office. Then she centered the wicker basket of assorted teas that she’d lined up alphabetically by variety: blueberry, chamomile, Earl Grey, ginger, Irish breakfast, jasmine green, lemon, mint. They had only one peppermint left, and all the other packets were in even numbers. She briefly considered brewing and drinking it, but her stomach had rebelled.
Again, she said a silent thanks that Mitch was in D.C. If he’d been in the office, today would have been an even bigger disaster.
She rewiped the shelf that held the sugar packets, checked the coffee can to make sure it was at least half-full, centered the stainless steel faucet above the sink and refolded the dishcloth.
The desk phone rang, but she ignored it.
The last three numbers on the readout had been Emily’s. Jenny had purposely escaped from the house this morning before Emily and Cole saw her. She knew if she didn’t answer the office phone, Emily would show up at lunchtime. But she’d face that in an hour.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, noting it read 11:02. She automatically checked her watch, making sure the times synced up. Then she crossed to her desk and sat down, folding her hands on the pristine wooden top, trying to figure out what on earth to do next.
The red message light was flashing on the face of the phone. She didn’t want to listen to Emily’s voice and feel the guilt that came with ignoring her best friend. But there was an off chance it was a TCC member who needed something. And she couldn’t ignore what might be an important matter. There were three weddings coming up this month.
