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‘I think that was a “yes”?’ Simon leaned across the table and, taking the ring from the box, gently slipped it on her finger.
Stella looked at it on her hand, the weight of it feeling so unfamiliar. The stones sparkled in the candlelight.
‘It belonged to my mother. She left it to me when she died, asking me to make sure I gave it to someone I really loved.’
‘Simon, are you sure? I mean, it’s only been…’
‘Not long, I know. But, Stella, I know you’re the person I want to marry.’
She had lifted her eyes to meet his. He had looked at her expectantly, smiling but with something else in his eyes. Was it fear she’d say no? She couldn’t quite tell, but as if to reassure him, again, she said yes, only this time louder. Before she knew it, he was up from his side of the table and lifting her into his arms and kissing her on the mouth. He then wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her off the ground.
‘Thank you… thank you.’ He repeated the words into her hair as they hugged.
Applause had started at the tables either side before spreading across the room as people realised what was happening. There were cheers and a few whoops from other diners and, moments later, a waiter brought a tray with two glasses of champagne to the table.
‘On the house,’ he said, smiling at them both in turn.
‘Thank you so much,’ Stella said. She had felt light-headed, her heart still beating furiously. She sat back down in her chair.
The noise died down and people returned to their own conversations just as quickly as they’d left them.
‘So, what do you think of the proposal?’ Simon laughed.
‘Well, you certainly caught me off guard.’ Stella gazed at the ring on her finger again, wondering if this was all really happening. ‘It was perfect. Thank you.’
‘Thank you, my darling.’ He squeezed her hand again, a broad smile across his face.
* * *
‘You’re WHAT?’ Bridget’s voice had shrieked down the phone.
‘I know it’s quick, but I promise you it feels right.’ Stella tried to ignore the slight irritation at her friend’s reaction. She’d hoped for an exclamation of joy, not incredulity.
‘It’s been about five minutes!’
‘It’s been six months.’
‘Really?’
‘OK, five.’
‘You met him four months ago, Stella.’
‘I love him, Bridge. And I know he loves me.’
‘Well, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy,’ Bridget replied, rather unconvincingly in Stella’s opinion.
‘Yes, I am. I honestly, truly am. Can we get together to celebrate?’
‘Now that is an excellent idea.’ Bridget had sounded more excited at the thought of this than Stella’s impending nuptials. ‘I’ll organise something asap with the others and let you know when.’
The following week, the four friends had sat around their usual table in the garden of their favourite pub, rosé with condensation on the enormous glasses in front of them. The late summer evening sun threw a golden light across their faces.
‘So, let me get this right,’ said Sarah, her enormous blue eyes fixed on Stella. Her sunglasses sat on top of her head, keeping her long blonde hair away from her face. As ever, her hands still bore spots of paint from her day job as a film set painter. She waved a finger across the table. ‘You’ve known him for four months.’
‘Five,’ Bridget corrected her, winking at Stella.
‘And you’re getting married, when?’ Sarah’s finger continued to point.
