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Then her eyes start to dart around the table for a second.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, searching the table as well trying to determine what she could possibly be looking for.
“Where’s the jewelry box?”
Her face looks more and more confused by the second.
“What jewelry box?” I ask.
“The velvet one with the two-carat tear drop diamond I circled in that magazine that I left at your house.”
Oh… she thought I already picked out the ring?
It’s not as if I didn’t consider that I’d need to buy her ring, I just wanted to make sure we were both on the same page before I dropped that kind of money on a clear piece of shiny carbon.
“I didn’t get a ring,” I admit.
Her eyes narrow as she stares back at me but her smile stays in place. Likely because the camera is still rolling.
“I wanted to bounce the idea off of you first, and if you agreed, then I thought we could go pick out the ring together,” I say in an attempt to ease her concern.
Her face stalls with the same smile, but now that smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and it’s starting to look a little crazed. I brace for the idea that the sixty-dollar-a-glass red wine she ordered is going in my face, but then her smile brightens back from the dead.
“Pick out the ring together?” she asks.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to get the ring if you were going to say no,” I admit.
She flashes a look at the cameraman. “Are you still rolling?”
He gives her a thumbs up and then she turns back to me.
“Oh. My. God!” she says, waving her right hand around her face as if to fan herself. “Picking out the ring together so that I get exactly what I want is the most romantic thing you could have ever done.”
I reach behind and scratch the back of my neck. This exchange is getting weirder but I think this is what I was hoping the night would end with—a yes.
Tomorrow we’ll pick her up a ring before my game next week, and then I’ll ask the announcer to flash the kiss cam on her and announce our engagement. That will give this engagement the legitimacy that we’ll need when we walk into the immigration office.
“Good, I’m glad you like the idea. Tomorrow we’ll head down to whichever jeweler you want and you can pick out whatever they have in the case.”
“Whatever they have in the case?” she asks, her smile falling a little.
“We’ll need it before our meeting next week in the immigration office when we have our interview. You’ll probably have to throw together a wedding quickly too.”
“Um, back up,” she says, shaking out her right hand at me and then pulling her left hand out of mine. She turns to the kid and gives him the “throat cut” motion. “Cut it! Cut it.”
He does… quickly, and then hands her back her phone and scurries off, back to doing his job.
“What do you mean immigration office and interview?”
“It’s a K-1 visa—a fiancé visa. We have an interview next week to get approved and then we have to get married quickly after. I’d like you to come home with me for the annual charity hockey match. My family is going to want to meet you—”
“Wait… what happened to your extension?”
“I told you... they didn’t get the check with the application, which means I have to re-send it, and since the office is inundated right now, my immigration paperwork will expire before they can approve it and I’ll get deported. I’ll have to start the process over from scratch back in Canada.”
Her lips purse, but again, her forehead and eyebrows don’t budge an inch.
“They’re going to deport you?” she says.
