Today, she’s in a pretty ivory sundress and strappy sandals, like she cares at least a little about the ceremony. Her pink toenails look cute. I put on a black three-piece suit with a tie because anything else would be wrong for the occasion.
I park the Lamborghini at a county clerk’s office near a courthouse. She starts to reach for the door.
“Wait.”
She turns toward me with a small frown. “Is there anything else to discuss before we get married?”
“Not discuss, exactly, but…” I pull out a velvet box from my jacket pocket and pop the lid open.
Her jaw slackens, her eyes zeroing in the ring in the center. “Oh my God.”
I pluck the glinting ring out and slide it onto her finger. The princess-cut diamond is set on a classic platinum band, and is perfect on her slim hand, just the way I imagined it at the store yesterday. Classy and elegant while discreetly hinting at wealth and prestige.
“You like it?” My tone’s super casual.
She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “It’shuge!”
“Only ten carats.”
“You’re the only guy I know who would say ‘only’ ten carats.”
“Because it’s not that big.” Why isn’t she answering my question?Does she not like it?
Her eyes take in the discreet logo inside the box. “It’s Sebastian Jewelry.”
“I couldn’t get something cheap.” My tone’s definitely grumpy now.
“Because you always get the best.”
A shrug. “It wasn’t that expensive. The piece isn’t custom made.” Still, I didn’t think that was going to be an issue. The band is unique, with a rose etched on either side of the diamond. The flowers reminded me of the Fiona roses in my garden, and it seemed to fit her. Perhaps I misjudged, and she doesn’t want to settle for a premade item.
She sighs. “Thank you. It’s really beautiful.”
Relieved, I start to smile, but she adds, “I guess…I didn’t think about props.”
She’s lost what little romanticism she had since the graduation. I study her, from her slightly arched eyebrows, long, thick lashes and thoughtful green-gold eyes to her soft, lush lips pursed in a mild self-directed recrimination.
Everyone becomes jaded, maybe even a little fatalistic, with some scars to show, as they navigate adulthood. But she was always a bit too jaded, like she’d lost something precious despite having struggled mightily for it, and she was convinced she’d never have it. She didn’t even tell me it was her birthday until the day after. If she’d been like other girls, I might’ve thought she was testing me, but she had very few expectations. I had to plan an emergency celebration, and her shocked, pleased smile was the greatest reward I could’ve hoped for. The hug—and the sex afterward—was fantastic, too.
I realize with a pang that we were truly happy back then…and I miss it more than I want to admit. I’ve been furious ever since she threw it away for a guy who wasn’t worth it.
“How are we playing this when people ask about us?” Fiona looks at me. “We’re going to need a story to go with the ring.”
I clear my throat to shake off the pain, sorrow and anger, then put on a careless façade. “We stick as close to the truth as possible.”
“So, how romantic was the proposal?”
“Very.”
“Flowers?”
“Yes, red roses,” I say, thinking of the shrub roses I planted.
“Like the ones in the backyard.”
“Precisely.”
She stares at the ring for a moment. She refused to say that she liked it, but I hope she does, not because I care what she thinks—I don’t—but because she has to wear it for the next two years. It’ll be difficult if she hates it. I’m not buying her another ring, I decide stubbornly.
