Melissa
I can’t stop staring at the opal.
I was expecting months of hard work, months of giving my best just to feel him kiss me and mean it. I was expecting the angel hair quartz to be nothing more than an ice-breaker, a token hint that we have something in common.
I wasn’t expecting to be lying at his side with one of his prized collections gripped in my fingers a week later.
I’ve seen this stone.
Three across, two shelves down. I polished its little plinth last Tuesday. I feel bold with this treasure in my hand. I feel like anything is possible.
It is lucky, I know it is.
And so am I.
“I love the suit,” I tell him. “But I’d love you more out of it, please.”
My voice is a whisper tinged with desperation as I reach for his tie. I pull it loose, and he kisses me as I push his jack
