“S’fine.” I kind of liked it.
Black velvet box in hand, I roll over and hand it to her.
“Hmm.” Based on that sound, she’s underwhelmed at best.
“Hmm, what? What doeshmmmean?”
“Predictable is all.” She shrugs.
“Predictable? Itisan engagement ring. They all pretty much look the same.”
“They don’t have to.” She ghosts a finger over the top of the oval diamond before shutting the lid and passing the box back to me like a hot potato.
I thought I was being creative by deviating from the typical round cut.
“Fine, then,” I say. “Humor me.What type of engagement ring would you want?”
“That’s presumptuous of you to think I’d want to get engaged.” She scoffs, crossing her arms.
“You don’t want to get married?” I ask, blindly tucking the box back into my bag.
Joey pulls herself up straighter against the headboard, and one thin strap of her cover-up slips off her shoulder. I resist the urge to hook my finger beneath it and slide it back up. I bet her skin is just as smooth and silky as her cover-up.
She eyes me, one brow lifted and her lips pressed in a straight line, and adjusts it herself. “After all the shit that just went down, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to be in a serious relationship again.” Her somber sigh fills the room.
I wrinkle my nose. “You can’t really mean that.”
Isn’t it every woman’s dream to get married? What else happened to make her feel this way?
“Oh, but I do.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “But in an alternate universe, one in which guys are not dicks—no offense—I would want something colorful, vibrant, unique.”
“Colorful? Like those birthstone rings I used to get from the treasure chest at the dentist?” I tease.
Joey throws her head back and guffaws. “Oh my god. I remember those. I haven’t thought about those rings in years.”
Her laughter is the most beautiful noise I’ve ever heard. Genuine. Pure. Hayden’s laugh is calculated and proper. But Joey laughs without inhibition. My responding smile is so big my cheeks hurt, but I can’t help it; it’s infectious.
“Every time I went to the dentist, I’d pick one out and give it to my mom,” I share. “Every six months for eight years. My sister would make fun of me for it, but I loved seeing the smile it put on my mom’s face. She was…” I trail off, shaking my head. I don’t need to recount my mother’s struggles to a stranger.
“That’s super cute.” She gives me a small smile. Then, like she can sense my sudden unease, she steers us back on track. “I’d want something unique. Maybe something green.”
“Green? Why green?”
“It’s my favorite color.” She shrugs. “And it was the color of my dad’s eyes.” That last part comes out as a whisper.
The way she says “was” makes me think her dad is no longer in her life, but before I can even consider asking, Joey continues.
“Yeah, I think I’d like something green. But not emerald green. More like green amethyst, you know?”
I nod, even though I have no idea what green amethyst looks like.
“And I’d want it with a yellow-gold setting—not silver or platinum.”
Definitely unlike the ring I bought for Hayden.
“You’ve got pretty specific ideas for someone who doesn’t want to get married.” I poke her in the side.
She throws a pillow at my face but misses, and I catch it before it goes off the side of the bed.
