“Yeah, but it’s nothing personal,” Sophie argues. “It’s business. Jess would understand that—and if she doesn’t, that’s not your problem.”

“We don’t even pay her that much,” I protest.

“Well, come on, Eliza,” Sophie says. “She makes twenty-two dollars an hour. That’s not nothing.”

I wince. She’s right. But Jess is great at what she does, and it wouldn’t be fair to cut her job just yet. There are a lot of corners I’d be willing to cut to save money: moving in with a roommate; boosting our prices; eating and drinking at home more often instead of going out. But leaving Jess behind isn’t one of them.

“Look,” I say. I flatten my palm against the island and speak as calmly as I can to Sophie’s back. “We have six whole months to decide. Give me six months. I can make this work.”

She turns around to face me. Her jaw is set. “It has to.”

• Chapter 6 •

We have the happiest, smuggest, most self-satisfied customer in our store, and Jess is about to burst his bubble. I’m perched at the counter answering questions and engaging with comments from users on Instagram, which can take upward of an hour every day. But I can’t help but watch Jess handle him. This guy, a wiry, bearded dude in a plaid flannel, thinks he’s brilliant because he snuck one of his girlfriend’s rings out of her jewelry box and insists that he needs a ring the same size.

“Which finger does she wear that on?” she asks patiently.

He balks. “It’s a ring. It’s her ring size.”

“Every finger is a slightly different size,” she explains. “Unless she wears this on her left ring finger, you can’t guarantee that an engagement ring sized off this one is going to fit.”

This is actually a pretty common mistake. When we first opened the shop, I was surprised by how many guys—smart guys, guys with complicated jobs, doctors even—did not realize that fingers vary in size. It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so frustrating.

While Jess walks the guy through his various options (figure out which finger she wears this on; bring home a ring sizer and measure the right finger; buy any ring and have it sized properly after the proposal—at great expense), my phone vibrates with alert after alert. There’s a flood of Instagram notifications, and I scroll to figure out where they came from. A sudden spike like this is never random. Sure enough, I figure out that it’s from the Elle piece published online ten minutes ago.