Chapter 4: The Heirloom

The ring caught the string lights and threw them across the room.

Every Kearney bride since 1910 had worn it.

They'd let me hold it once, at the engagement dinner, just for a moment.

Then Brandon's mother had taken it back and put it in her purse.

I set down my champagne.

I walked the length of the reception, between the long tables, past the bar and the band and the guests who'd stopped chewing.

Ronan walked one step behind me and said nothing.

Brandon saw me coming and smiled.

"Noelle. Hey. She's okay. False alarm, she just hadn't eaten."

"I can see that," I said.

Tara pressed against his arm and gave me a slow, sorry look.

"Noelle, right? I've heard so much about you." She tilted her head. "I'm so sorry about all of this. I really didn't mean to ruin your day."

"Where did you get that ring?"

She glanced down at it.

"This? Brandon gave it to me this morning. At the airport." She smiled at him. "He said it was always supposed to be mine."

The guests nearest us went dead silent.

I could hear the river against the pilings below the windows.

"The 1910 ring," I said, loud enough for the back tables. "His grandmother's. His mother's. You said it got misplaced."

Brandon's smile slipped.

"Babe, can we not do this here?"

"You gave me a new one for the ceremony and gave the heirloom to her at seven in the morning."

"It's complicated."

"It's a ring, Brandon. A ring is a ring." I let his own words sit. "Remember?"

Somebody at the bar laughed and turned it into a cough.

Brandon's face went red.

Then he looked past me at the cake, the arbor, the guests on their feet, and finally at Ronan.

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