Size? This is a detail that should have occurred to me, but it didn't. Hell, I didn't even think about a ring until about thirty minutes ago. Wait! Her grandmum's ring is in my pocket. I fish it out.
"This is hers. Well, it's her grandmum's, but we were going to use it. Except, well, it's not a very nice diamond."
The jeweler, Gregory, asks to see the ring. He dons one of those eye magnifying glasses like you see in a James Bond movie. "That's because this is a white sapphire, not a diamond. Based on the age of the ring, it's definitely natural and not synthetic. Are you looking to trade this?"
"Heavens, no. I simply wanted to get her something …" I falter. Nicer? Hers? "I'm not sure it's her style, but I know it has sentimental value."
"What is her style?"
It's a simple question. One a fiancé would know. Should know. Yet, I'm standing here like a nob. I've not seen Ophelia in anything besides pajamas and lounge clothes, other than the jeans and hoodie she was wearing that night in Baltimore. Hardly enough to tell her style. Instead, I fill the void with everything I know about her.
"She's romantic and impulsive and not too stuck on her appearance. I do believe she's genuinely a good person. Caring and giving, perhaps to a fault. But definitely romantic at heart."
That's not a whole lot to go on.
"Oh, and she loves all things British."
"Naturally," Gregory replies. "I can see why." He puts his finger up to his chin as his gaze darts around the store. "Oh wait! I've got the perfect solution." He dashes off to a glass counter on the opposite side of the store where he carefully extracts something. "Voila! This is what you need. This blue sapphire ring guard will enhance her grandmother's white sapphire, without detracting from the stone as brilliant diamonds would. These are marquis cut sapphires which tend to have a feminine and romantic feel, and they blend nicely with the original ring."
He puts the two together, and I know he's right. "Sold. That was easy."
Gregory whisks both pieces off to the back to clean and polish them. About ten minutes later, the sparkling set is nestled snugly in a ring box in my breast pocket, where it feels like ten stone against my heart.
"I hope your bride-to-be likes this. Please remember us for all your future needs."
If I weren't in this suit, I'd consider running back to Ophelia's place. I need to do something to burn off some of this feeling churning in the pit of my stomach.
I pull out my phone and call my parents. I need some sage advice. NDA or no, if I don't tell someone, I'm going to absolutely rupture.
"Hullo?" It's Philip. Great. He's not going to be of any help. Mostly because he thinks I'm a nob and the feeling is quite mutual most of the time.
"Mum or Dad in?"
"Hullo to you too. Both out," he grumbles. It sounds as if he's got a mouthful of food.
Bollocks.
"Well, I need to talk to them. To someone."
"You got me, you bloody eejit." Brotherly love at its finest.
"Do you know when they'll be back?"
"Nah. Out in the aviary. Someone brought in a barn owl with a broken wing. They're looking after it."
"Why aren't you out there? That's your specialty." My voice is rising. Why isn't Philip pulling his weight there? I'm here, literally selling my soul and country, to make sure they have what they need. And Philip is relaxing in the house while our parents are out in the cold aviary tending to an injured, and no doubt surly, bird. "This is reprehensible, Philip. You are supposed to be running the show, not letting Mum and Dad do everything while you sit back and stuff your face."
"No need to throw a wobbly. I've been out there for the better part of two days straight. I just came in to clean up and get a quick bite. Now, are you going to tell me what's got your knickers in a twist? It's obvious you didn't ring for a straight chinwag."
I exhale, covering my eyes with my hand. "Oh Philip, it's a disaster. I'm getting married in about two hours, to a bird I hardly know. She's agreed to help me out so I can become a US citizen." Saying it out loud makes me want to retch.
"Being a US citizen would be infinitely better for your career, no? You're not playing back here anytime soon, so what's the problem?"
"Right, but marrying a total stranger? Doesn't that seem extreme?"
I can hear his sigh from all the way across the Atlantic. "Brother, your whole life has been extreme. Do you think most people play football the way you do? You've given up your friends and family, your social life, and even your name and reputation for the chance to chase a ball around a field. So this is one more sacrifice in a long line of sacrifices. It would seem foolish to give it all up now. As if all of that was for nothing."
I'm speechless for a moment. Philip's never been my biggest fan. Or fan at all, for that matter. Yet here he is, giving me sound and solid advice.
