was eclipsed by three long strings of sparkling diamonds and fat pearls that glittered and glistened in the candlelight.
Kwesi laughed. “Well, aren’t you going to try it on?”
Slowly Nyasha reached out, lifting the necklace as if it might be spun of moonlight and cloud, between forefingers and thumbs.
Kwesi took a swig of his champagne. “It won’t bite.”
Nyasha nodded, not looking up as she hung the necklace, fumbling with the clasp until, finally, it fastened. As the cool jewels touched her warm skin she held her breath.
“C-can I . . . keep it?”
Kwesi laughed again. It was a laugh of easy wealth, of silk, cashmere, and Scotch; the laugh of a man who’d never had to strive for anything. “Of course, I just gave it to you.”
“Nyó ta. Yes, I . . .” Nyasha dropped her fingers from the pearls. “Akpe . . . And is it—or do I . . . will I give it back to you if . . . ?”
His smile deepened, plumping out his satisfied cheeks. “You mean, if we break up?”
Nyasha turned her eyes to the table, settling her gaze on the silver cutlery, resisting the urge to clutch the necklace again.
“I certainly hope that won’t happen.” Kwesi Xoese slid his hand across the thick linen tablecloth, taking hers. “But yes, if you divorce me it’s still yours.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his. That was it. A marriage proposal that was an assumption instead of a question. She hadn’t even been given the chance to say yes.
“You might divorce me,” Nyasha said instead.
“Oh, ao!” Kwesi lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “I can’t ever imagine such a thing.”
Nyasha gave him a shy little smile, reaching up with her other hand to rest her fingers back on the strings of diamonds and pearls. Hers. No matter what. It was then Nyasha experienced another first. The first time she felt safe.
11:11 a.m.—Goldie
“Wait!”
I’m nursing my sixth rejection of the day when I see him. On Trinity Street, amid the bustling tourists and students. Fortunately, I’m not caught in the act of lifting a fat wallet from a fancy bag. Still, I’ve no desire to relive the shame of our last encounter, so I turn to avoid him.
“Goldie, wait.”
I stop. When he reaches me, I can’t meet his eye.
“Are you all right?” he says. “I’ve been worrying about you since . . .”
“I’m fine.” I feign an effortless shrug. “No harm, no foul.”
“But . . . your manager, he didn’t call the police?”
“Probably,” I say. “I didn’t stay around to find out.”
“Oh.”
I wait for him to ask exactly how I escaped, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches out, as if he’s going to touch my shoulder, then drops his hand.
“So, you’ve found another job?”
“No, that’s what I’m doing right now—looking for another job—but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s hiring.” I glance at the pavement. “I guess I picked the wrong time to steal your wallet, then bite off my boss’s finger.”
“You bit off your boss’s finger?” Leo’s incredulous.
Hardly surprising, I suppose, that Garrick kept that detail to himself.
I shrug again, as if it’s of no matter, as if I’m biting off fingers all the time. “I exaggerate,” I admit. “But only slightly.”
Leo smiles. “And how did you get hold of his finger in the first place?”
“A long and unseemly story. Let’s just say I’m not pining for my old job back.” I glance again at the hand that almost touched my shoulder. I still can’t meet his eye. “Though I wish it wasn’t so bloody impossible to find a new one.”
“Oh,” Leo says. “But that’s all right, I can get you a job.”
“Really?” I look up, instantly caught by those green eyes and unable to look away. I should be speaking, should be enquiring as to the details, relaying my qualifications, but I can’t form a coherent sentence or thought.
Leo smiles.
I smile back. He steps towards me. I hold my breath.
He reaches out. I lean forward.
Then I stumble back again, bumped by an errant tourist with a selfie stick. I trip, then right myself, catching his eye again. “So, um, this job sounds great. What does it involve exactly?”
“Well”—Leo casts a glance at the oblivious tourist—“My father owns a chain of hotels, he’s here opening a new one—”
“Your father?” I say, feeling the great canyon of wealth and class between us deepen. “I hardly think he would hire me to—”
Leo laughs. “Oh, don’t worry about that. He won’t remember you—he doesn’t pay any attention to