“Those are the ones you want, Lucky, unless you think Paddy and Niall are on to something. Bucking the trend.”
I think about Lauren and Mellie’s rings, shaking my head.
“Andie’s pretty traditional in her jewelry. I think she’d like a nice diamond ring.”
The saleswoman behind the counter beams at us as we approach and then specifically at me when Seamus shakes his head, gesturing in my direction.
“What can I help you with today, sir?” she asks eagerly. I scratch the back of my head.
“Uh, engagement rings?”
Her face lights up, no doubt with the thought of the commission she’s about to make, and she eagerly gestures to the rows and fuckingrowsof diamond rings inside the glass counter between us.
“Just let me know any that catch your eye, and I’ll bring them out for you to look at.”
I nod, turning my eyes to the display.
Jesus fuck, that’s a lot of engagement rings. How the fuck am I supposed to pick the one Andie will wear for the rest of her life?
How come no one impressed upon me the enormity of this fucking task? What if she doesn’t like the ring I pick her? What if I ask her wrong? What if she says no when I ask? Give me a high-stakes poker game any time. Hell, give me an adrenaline-filled shootout in a warehouse. Anything would be less stressful than this decision.
“You’re overthinking it, Lucky,” Seamus rumbles from beside me, clearly reading the panic written large across my face.
“Why are they all so different?” I hiss at him, and the fucking prick starts to laugh. “How did you pick Tiggy’s?”
Seamus shrugs, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. “I just picked the biggest fuck off diamond I could find.”
I stare at him incredulously.
“That’s it?” I ask, sounding as unconvinced as I no doubt look, and again, Seamus shrugs.
“I know my wife. An engagement ring doesn’t mean anything to her because we didn’t choose to get married. But she understands that having a giant fuck off diamond is a must as my wife. She’s going to be the wife of the head of the Irish Mafia, for fuck’s sake.”
“So her ring has nothing to do with her personality?”
Seamus sighs. “Not a fucking thing, Lucky. Not a one. The necklace that she wears? I bought that because I knew she’d like it.”
I try to picture the necklace Tiggy always wears. It’s on a silver chain, a simple silver circle.
“She likes a plain silver circle?” I snort at him, and a touch of pink colors Seamus’s cheekbones, which has me turning to study him carefully.
“It’s not silver,” he says stiffly. “It’s tungsten. Tough but beautiful, just like she is.” He sounds almost defensive now. “And it’s not plain. You just can’t see the bit that lies against her. It’s engraved.”
“Engraved with what?”
Seamus definitely flushes this time.
“Is tú mo shaol ar fad,” he says quietly. I blink at him. I would not have picked my cousin to be such a romantic. He had a custom piece of jewelry made for his wife engraved with “you are my whole life”? What a fucking sap.
I grin at him as he flips me off, turning his attention to the rings in front of us.
“Andie usually wears gold earrings,” I tell the saleswoman. She moves over to one section, which only has diamond rings on yellow gold bands.
“This is your section then,” she tells me brightly, gesturing at the glass case.
My eyes rove over the selection. There are rings of different shapes and sizes, but my eyes keep drifting back to one particular ring. Finally, I jab my finger at it.
“Can I see that one?”