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“So, did you?” Cora says.
It takes a moment to understand what she’s saying. “I did. Yeah.” My tone discourages further questions.
Seeing a therapist did not help me because I’d done it to appease my family. It won’t help Cora’s mother either. It has to be something you want for yourself.
We’re quiet on the rest of the drive back, but it’s a comfortable silence. Cora drops me off at three in the afternoon.
I lean across the seat to kiss her on the mouth. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
She smiles. “Sure.”
I grab my bag from the back seat, and with a wave, I head toward the front door. My cell phone rings just as I’m walking through the foyer. I drop my bag and reach for my phone. I glance at the screen and see that it’s my father calling. It’s rare, and my first thought is that something is wrong.
I pick the call hurriedly. “Hi Dad, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” he says, and I immediately relax. “How are you, and how is Cora?”
“Cora is fine.” I move to the kitchen and turn on the coffee machine.
“That’s good,” he says. “Did you think about what we talked about?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Women need to feel secure, and an engagement will do wonders for her. Son, she’s carrying your child!”
“I was planning to propose to her this coming week.” The truth is that the whole thing escaped my mind after the accident.
“That’s wonderful, son. I’m proud of you for doing the right thing.”
Guilt floods me, but I shrug it off.
***
“Welcome to Unique jewelry,” a dark-haired woman says as soon as I step into the shop on Second Avenue. “My name is Jessica.”
“Thank you,” I say, looking around and then moving to the side with a display of rings.
“What kind of ring are you looking for?” she says.
“An engagement ring.”
Her face lights up, and she smiles. I wonder if she does that for everyone who wants to buy an engagement ring.
“Any idea what kind of ring you want?” she asks.
I realize I have no idea what I want or rather what kind of ring Cora would want. I don’t know her well enough to figure out what sort of ring she would want.
Unexpectedly, memories of my past resurface, and I remember my last visit to a jewelry store. It had been so different from this shopping trip. I knew Tessa inside out, and we’d even casually looked at rings together, and so I knew what sort of ring I wanted.
I shouldn’t be so fussy about the engagement ring that I’m getting for Cora. It’s a fake engagement, but I find myself wanting to buy the perfect ring for her. I settle on a rose gold ring and estimate the size of her finger. She has a similar build to the saleslady.
With the jewelry box in my pocket, I return to my office, text Cora, and invite her for dinner. She agrees. That sorted, I turn my attention to work.
Later, I go home to shower and get ready for the evening. I whistle as I pick my clothes for the evening. When I’m ready, I leave the house feeling on top of the world, which is weird because I’m not proposing for real.
I’m surprised to find Cora waiting outside her building. It’s a warm evening, and she’s dressed in a pretty silk dress that hugs her body perfectly. Heat whips through me.
I get out of the car and take her into my arms. She smells like heaven and vanilla. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she says softly.
I open the door for her and bow low as she enters the car, making her laugh.
“Thank you for inviting me for dinner,” she says. “What brought it on?”
“Nothing,” I say mysteriously.
At the restaurant, we are shown to a discreet corner, which I’d requested when I called to make a reservation. I hope she’ll like the ring even if it won’t be a real engagement.
We order dinner and chat easily as we eat. After dinner, I remove the jewelry box from my pocket and open it with flourish. Cora’s eyes widen, and she clamps her mouth with her hand.
“Cora, will you do me the honor of becoming my fiancée?”
“Yes,” she says.
All along, I think she’s joking until her eyes fill up with tears. “Hey, you okay? This is not for real. You remember I promised my dad that we’d get engaged, remember?” I’m rambling. I have a feeling that something is very wrong, but I don’t immediately figure it out.
“What?” Cora says. She wears a look of horror, and it dawns on me that she thought it was a real proposal.
“Wait? Did you think …”
She pushes her chair back and stands up. “Fuck you, Thomas. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She grabs her bag and marches off.
