To no one's surprise, Avery was indifferent to Micah's distress. He was not ignorant of it. He was deliberately ignoring it because it got in the way of what he wanted to do.
And right now what he wanted to do was to flaunt his picks to a partner who was receptive and supportive. He did not want a partner who nodded mindlessly and mumbled, "Anything looks good on you" or "Babe, you know fashion better than I ever will" in a perfunctory manner.
More importantly, he absolutely did not want a partner who—as Micah did—made a non-committal "Mhmm" sound and decided in his infinite wisdom that it was somehow adequate.
Meanwhile, Micah was extremely irritated by Avery's refusal to get a fucking hint. There were only that many "Mhmm" variations he could come up with. And he was not exactly in the mood to come up with any. When Avery shoved another ring into his face again, Micah retaliated by shooting him a brief but withering glare.
Avery remained undeterred. "I am telling you to look," he cooed in a sickly sweet tone that only emphasized the implied threat.
"And I am reminding you that Felicia Knight is just right there," Micah replied stiffly. He expected this to put a definite end to the matter but, to his surprise, the warm breath of a low laugh caressed his ear most uncomfortably.
Because Avery's key defining trait was his inordinate fondness of invading people's personal spaces.
Micah turned to see his husband's face mere inches from his own. Avery was wearing an expression that Micah immediately loathed. It was an expression that could be charitably, but not inaccurately, described as amusement.
Contemptuous amusement, to be more exact.
Avery knew something he didn't. And Avery knew that he knew that he didn't know something Avery did. Avery also knew that he's dying to ask, but could not bring himself to swallow his pride.
Avery was, quite predictably, gloating.
In other words, he had a shit-eating grin. That's the uncharitable way to describe it.
Micah wanted to smack him, but before he could do anything, Avery seized the hair on the back of his head and leaned even further forward. He now found himself in the unique (but very much unwanted) position to admire Lord Avery Welland's dreamy beauty (especially his large, deceptively innocent eyes) up close.
Micah was truly living the dream. The dream of thousands of Kellynichian girls.
Avery's lips were still curled upwards, but as they parted to bare his gleaming white teeth it became clear that he was no longer smiling. He had felt irritated, and was now finally irritated enough to let his politeness slip.
"My darling husband," he whispered in the same cloying voice as before, "perhaps your little… What shall we call it? Encounter? Tryst? Dalliance? Ah yes, dalliance. Perhaps your silly little dalliance with Felicia has blinded you to the truth that she is very much in love with my sister. Intensely, obsessively, fatally so."
Micah felt his skin crawl, and not because of the sapphic revelation. His first instinct was to deny, lie, downplay the accusation away. But one look at Avery's annoyed face was enough to dismiss any possibility that Micah could successfully talk his way out of this charge.
Really, the game was up. Avery had enjoyed himself letting Micah believe that he was keeping everyone else in the dark. But that fun was now exhausted. Avery didn't want to keep playing the fool. He would consider any defense from Micah an insult to his intelligence.
So Micah listened to the screams of his self-preservation instincts and kept his mouth shut, letting Avery continue his villain monologue.
"Dearest, you simply have to understand something. The more in love we appear, the likelier Felicia thinks we are not competing with her for Adeline's attention. Yes, I do mean we, because that crazy bitch sometimes thinks I have an unhealthy interest in my own twin. That means she is far less likely to cause us trouble if we show her what she wants to see. And she is not one restrained by the laws and morals of mortal man. She is a trust fund baby working as a maid just so she can always be close to the object of her affection. So, let me ask you again. Which ring do you think looks best on me? I want a sincere answer this time."
As if on command, Micah immediately looked at the rings beside them. The first clue was that some had been set aside—these were the ones Avery liked.
Obviously, Micah should quickly choose from among them.
Except… Avery's tastes were odd, to say the least. One of his picks was a top-heavy ring set with so many colorful gems it looked less like a stained glass window (which was probably the designer's intention) and more like a Christmas decoration. Another pick seemed like it could only be worn during Halloween—the pale central stone was carved into a vague semblance of a human face and held in place by the spindly gold hands that formed the band. The last looked like a silver snake strangling itself while being crushed by its own weight.
In a panic, Micah looked back at Avery for more clues and noticed, for the first time, his slender fingers. 'Musician's fingers,' Micah remembered he had heard them described as such, 'or artist's hands.'
Beautiful as Avery's hands were, they could be no help to Micah, because Avery's smile-not-smile was reminding him to hurry up.
Or else.
Micah, like many, many married men, panicked and did the opposite of the obvious thing. He pointed at something in Avery's rejects pile. "That one is nice."
Bezalel, surely familiar with such occurrences, helpfully picked up a ring as if to ask, "This one?"
"No, the one behind that." Micah knew he was on thin ice. Bezalel handed the chosen ring—one made of interlacing bands in different coloured golds—to an unimpressed Avery.
"This. One."
"Yes. It's elegant and suitable for everyday wear. It looks like something that goes well with many different types of clothing," Micah explained like he didn't know Avery was not asking a question. "But," he hurriedly added, "let's get the others too, for special occasions."
Avery's beam was enough to tell Micah he would live to see another day.