Taryn
The jewelry shop was quiet, tucked away at the edge of town, the kind of place that didn’t scream luxury, but whispered permanence.
Caz held the door open for me, and the bell chimed softly overhead as we stepped inside. The woman behind the counter looked up with kind, knowing eyes.
“We’re looking for wedding rings,” Caz said, his voice still rough from our morning, but steady. Solid. Just like him.
Her face lit up. “Congratulations. Just married?”
“Yesterday,” I said, smiling.
“Then today’s a good day to seal it.”
We stepped up to the case, dozens of rings glinting under soft lighting. I leaned forward to browse, but Caz’s hand gently caught my wrist.
“Wait.”
I looked up.
“I want to pick yours,” he said, voice low. “I want to be the one who chooses what goes on your finge
