She rolls her eyes. “No one’s going to believe that. And no one is smitten after one meeting.”

I laugh and reach back for the bag behind me. “They will and this is proof that I can see something and become smitten with it.”

“I don’t follow.”

I pull the ring box from the bag and her startled gasp is about how I felt when I bought the damn thing. “It’s not a wedding without a ring, right?” Why am I suddenly nervous? “I tried to pick something practical for you since you’re always using your hands in the bakery. Something that didn’t have a high profile and wouldn’t get dough and icing stuck in it or snag gloves if you wear them—”

“You thought of all that?”

“Of course. I want my wife to wear her ring,” I tease but damn if those words don’t have my stomach flipping as I open the box and hand it to her.

She gasps, her eyes flying up to meet mine and then back to the cushion-cut oval diamond centered in the middle of an infinity band of other diamonds. “Jase. It’s—”

“Understated.”

“Far from it. It’s stunning. Gorgeous . . . whoa.”

She reaches out to run a finger over the band where it’s nestled in the box. The ring is spectacular but small in comparison to other celebrity wives’ standards and yet . . . something about it called to me, much like Hendrix did. It’s understated—possibly normally overlooked—but is elegant and classy. It screamed unique and genuine, and from the short time I’ve known Hendrix, it seems to fit her.

I’m not sure why it was so important for me to get it for her when I could’ve simply bought a solitaire something or other, but it was.

“Here. Let’s put it on you,” I say and take the ring out of the box. We both inhale shaky breaths as I slide it on her finger and it fits perfectly.

“Oh,” she says, but I have a feeling that oh stands for oh shit. Oh my God. What the hell are we about to do? How do we stop this train?

Truth be told, I didn’t know how to give her the ring. Just like the same situation with a formal ceremony—I probably won’t, but just in case I do plan to lower to my knee one day—I didn’t want to think of this moment here. The pretend engagement. So I decided to just hand it to her to put on herself but right now it feels ridiculously inadequate and callous.

Maybe that’s why I bought her the present—to make up for it. It has to be.

“I also got you something else to go with your dress.”

“Jase. The dress, the pampering, is more than enough.” She keeps staring at her hand and the ring now on her finger.