“I mean, she didn’t even say what kind of gem she was talking about,” Finn told Rollo and Josh later that week, over his fourth ale at Barstow’s Brews. “A gem could be a diamond, or it could be a cubic zirconium or whatever. A gem. For f**k’s sake. Has any woman ever called you a gem?”
“It’s definitely the kiss of death,” said Josh. He was busy texting shots of his beer to Suzanne. They’d agreed to take turns going out at least one night a month. To Finn, it seemed that Josh was having more fun taunting his wife with his stupid beer selfies than he was actually drinking the stuff. “If any girl told me I was a gem, I’d have to have a serious talk with her.”
“You guys are nuts.” Rollo rested his muscled forearms on the table. “Gems are jewelry. Plenty of women like jewelry. Not Brianna, bu
