“I know, I know. But we should have it appraised.”

“Why does it matter how much it is?”

“If it’s worth a lot of money, we can have it insured in case it’s ever lost or damaged.”

“I’ll never lose it.” My eyes flick to the blue velvet ring box on my dresser where I put it the other day.

Only it’s not there.

My heart sinks down into my stomach. Dad’s rambling on but all I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears.

Where the fuck is my grandmother’s ring?

“All right, Dad. Gotta run. I’ll see you at six.” I end the call and toss my phone onto the mattress. Dropping to my knees, I look under the bed. Nothing but dust bunnies.

Next, I pull the dresser away from the wall. Maybe the ring box fell behind it.

Nope.

I search the drawers and scour the room, only to come up empty-handed.

I thrust my fingers through my hair, pacing at the foot of my bed. “Okay. I just need to retrace my steps. Everything’s fine.”

FYI: Talking to yourself solidifies that everything is not fine.

Nana passed away last month. It took me and my family weeks to sort through her belongings at her house. There wasn’t much of value there besides a couple boxes of pictures. But when the family lawyer read Nana’s will, we learned she’d left her wedding ring to me.

My brother, Josh, was livid. Nearly started a family feud over the thing. He wanted to give the ring to his current flavor of the week. Apparently, they’re in love. I’m not one to shit on people’s relationships, but Josh is the boy who cried love.

Dad didn’t buy it any more than I did, and he told Josh that I get the ring since I’m the oldest. We all know the real reason Nana left it to me. Josh would pawn the ring, blow the money, and never think twice about it. He’s the typical irresponsible little brother.

I’m the responsible one.

I’m the dependable one.

Don’t think I don’t see the irony in this situation as I’m crawling around my apartment on my hands and knees.

After the lawyer gave me the ring, I set the box on top of my dresser. Smack in the middle. I’ve been meaning to buy a safe or a lockbox to put it in, but things have been hectic ever since I interviewed for the new job.

I’d forgotten about the ring. But I hadn’t touched it, so it has to be here.

I spend the rest of my afternoon tearing the place apart. I check in the most ridiculous places, knowing damn well it wouldn’t be inside the oven or behind the toilet.