I hadn’t walked on. I’d taken a photo of the price tag with my phone, done the math three separate times, and started quietly setting money aside.
The morning I planned to pick it up, I told Matthew I had a full slate of meetings and wouldn’t be home until six. Instead, I used a vacation day, drove across town, and left the little velvet box on the passenger seat like it was made of glass.
I got home just after two.
His car was already in the driveway.
That alone made my stomach flip pleasantly — maybe he’d left work early, maybe we’d get an unplanned afternoon together — until I heard his voice through the screen door, low and urgent in a way I didn’t recognize.
I let myself in without a sound.
“—no, don’t worry, it’s happening exactly the way I planned it,” Matthew was saying, pacing the length of the living room with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. “She has no idea. None.”
