I twist my wifely charms upon my “husband.” “Samson…” I point. “Can Iplease—”
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s a staple for most adventurers,” the shopkeeper informs. “Monster dens are dark. It’s dangerous without light.”
Sagely, Samson nods. “I agree. However—” He squishes my cheeks and gives me one hundred percent of his glare. “—mybeautiful wife isjustsane enough not to wander into monster-filled dark. She isnotsane enough to stop herself from going alone into danger that she can see.”
“Ohh,” the shopkeeper tuts, judging me. “I can see where that would be a problem. The only other blessed item I have is for protection. You wouldn’t happen to be more interested in that one, would you?”
My nose scrunches. “I want the glow ring.”
“You can’t have the glow ring.” Samson doesn’t spare the nice lady a look. “What rank blessing is the protection ring?”
“Emerald.”
He hums, finally releasing me. “Sorry. I have Ruby connections. I’d prefer the better skill for a protection blessing.”
Her hands lift. “Oh, no. Totally understandable.”
Samson points. “The clip, though. Do you have one in orange? Possibly even one shaped like an orange?”
Unamused, I fold my arms.
Until the woman presents a clip with a beautiful glass orange actually adorning it. It is the most adorable thing I have ever seen.
“Yeah,” Samson murmurs, returning the one in my hair to its place in the display and retrieving the other, “we’ll take this one.”
Immediately after the purchase is complete, Samson trades the headband he put in my hair early this morning out for the clip, and I try not to let it betooobvious exactly what the simple interaction does to my insides.
My secret feelings are not helped by the time thenight markettruly begins to come alive, with street performers and more eclectic wares—including an entire display of wedding circlets.
They catch my eye shortly after Samson and I finish sharing a sweet treat not unlike a funnel cake on a stick.
“Wow…” I whisper, skimming the immense array of wedding circlets. In the game, there’s one pixelated image to represent the jewelry. The only variety available depends on which gemstones you mount into the five positions around the crown. And by “variety,” I do mean that you get five little dots of different colored pixels depending on which gemstones you add.
Here, the circlets are silver and gold, white, clear, glimmering, matte. There are some with only one mounting place. Three. Five. Seven. Hundreds, perhaps, in tiny floral adornments that create wreaths of gems.
They are, fundamentally, beautiful.
“Those are marriage circlets,” Samson says. “I’m sorry I can’t get you one. Assuming it’s different where you’re from, that’s how we propose, and we’re already married.”
I stammer, “I-I know. I wasn’t— It’s just—” I force a breath into my lungs to contain myself. The very notion ofSamsongivingmethe marriage circlet…ofhimproposing…it sweeps me off my feet. “They’re beautiful.”
Samson eyes my beet-red cheeks. “You…know? Is it the same in your old world?”
An awkward laugh tumbles out of my mouth. “Oh, um, no. We exchange rings. It’s lame. A whole crown issomuch more romantic.”
He continues watching me, until I feel like I might shrink away from having said something egregiously wrong. “If it’s different, why did your game have information about how we propose?”
I’m going to die. Right here. And it won’t even be because the person on my left who is swallowing a sword made a grievous error. “Uh…well…”
This is the perfect moment to interject that I have a dreadful affliction—beyondmy astigmatism.
It’s why my boss at Hardee’s knows my childhood was traumatizing.
After he found me crying in the freezer, I vomited my life story on him with the energy of a deranged marmoset, desperate to relayyou just don’t understandvibes.
After all, the affliction is known asoversharing when I’m nervous.
