Suitcases are linedup by the front door, passports on the console, and Maggie is fussing in the kitchen like we’re leaving for a year instead of a week. I’m in my room doing a last-minute check when there’s a knock.
“Yeah?”
Brianna slips in, hands behind her back as if she’s hiding something.
“What are you up to?” I narrow my eyes.
“Nothing.” Which of course meanssomething.She climbs onto my bed and finally brings her hands forward.
It’s a small navy velvet box.
My chest tightens. “Where’d you get that?”
“In your closet,” Bri says, unapologetic. “In the black box you thought was hidden.”
I sigh. “You can’t break into my stuff, Bri.”
“You didn’t lock it.”
Touché.
I take the box from her and flip it open.
The ring catches the light. A simple gold band with a yellow pear diamond slightly off-center. It’s elegant—and exactly Mya. I saw it one day and just knew it was made for her. Even though we were already separated, I still bought it, and stuck it in the back of the closet.
“Why are you giving me this?”
Bri shrugs, all innocent. “You should take it with you.”
I huff out a laugh. “We arenotat that level, Bri.”
“But what if yougetto ring level?” Her eyes go big. “What if you talk and you need it?”
“It doesn’t happen like that.”
Bri has been on me to talk to Mya ever since she left for Paris, so I’m not even surprised my daughter is this optimistic about maybe seeing her while we’re there.
“It could,” Brianna says wisely, like she’s been alive for forty years and seen things. “You always say to be prepared.”
I point at her. “That’s low. Using my own lines.”
She grins. “Just bring it, Dad. You don’t have to give it to her. But if you don’t and then youdoneed it, you’ll be mad.”
My daughter is not wrong.
I look at the ring again. I bought it hoping that maybe one day Mya would look at me and not see the man who dragged her into a fake marriage—but the man shechose.
“Fine,” I say finally, snapping the box shut. “But this is not for now. It’s for when and if Mya’s ready. Let’s just bring it as a sort of lucky charm.”
Brianna beams. “I like that.”
I walk to my carry-on, unzip the inner pocket, and slip the box inside.
When I turn back, Bri is watching me, hopeful. “Do you think Mya’ll be happy to see us?”
“I hope so.”
“Me too,” she says, hopping off the bed. “I miss her.”