“Should I be worried?”
“Only if you plan to cross me.”
A suited man greets us, casting my disheveled bride a worried gaze.
“Show us the biggest rocks you have,” I demand.
“Certainly,” the jeweler says, ignoring Natasha’s smeared eyeliner once the word biggest comes into play.
Natasha dons a confused look. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She looks around frantically. “Am I on Candid Camera? Some Ashton Kutcher television show?”
I take her gently by the elbow, pull her to me and whisper into her ear. “No, you’re just marrying one of the wealthiest men in the world.”
I lead her to a glass counter where the jeweler is pulling out several boxes of rings to show us.
“Is there a particular cut you like?” the jeweler asks. “The heart-shaped stones are on-trend.”
“I’ll take something from a gumball machine,” Natasha says, her eyes trained on an emerald-cut five-karat diamond.
“She’ll try that one on,” I point to the one she’s eyeing.
The jeweler picks it up, shines it, and holds it out. “May I see your hand,” he asks.
Natasha extends her hand, and a confused look spreads across the jeweler’s face.
“It appears you already have an engagement ring,” he says.
“Oh, t-t-this—t-t-this was given to me by my ex,” she stutters out, removing it and dropping it into her purse.
The jeweler clears his throat and says, “It seems as though you’ve upgraded,” his eyes cutting over to me.
It’s hard to describe what the slight does to me. I barely know Natasha, despite our marriage license, but there’s this urge to protect her that I’ve never felt before for anyone.
Thankfully, it doesn’t appear that Natasha picked up on the jeweler’s jab.
Natasha presents her hand, and the jeweler slips the ring on her finger.
“It’s too much,” she immediately says, to which the jeweler rolls his eyes.
Annoyed, I point to one in the far corner that’s twice as large. “That’s the one,” I say.
Natasha’s brow draws in as the jeweler does a double-take.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
My gaze lets him know I will tolerate no further disrespect. “I wouldn’t have indicated as much if I wasn’t sure.”
He gets the point, managing a tight smile as he slips the bigger rock on Natasha’s finger.
This one is a round stone with smaller diamonds lining the band. It is absolutely eye-catching, bordering on obnoxious, but with the statement I’m looking to make to my family and her ex, it’s perfect.
“We’ll take it,” I say, holding out my American Express Black Card.
The jeweler goes to process the card, and I pull out my phone to snap a pic. “Say cheese!”
Natasha’s eyes flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. “What is going on here?”
“I’m merely trying to capture the moment,” I reply.
