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“This is what I was thinking,” he cuts me off and points at another ring in the far corner of the cabinet.
“A Solitaire 1895, platinum, with an oval-cut diamond, two carats easy,” he recites. “That other one wasn’t even a fifth of a carat.”
I stare at the massive oval-cut diamond, set on a much thicker platinum ring.
“It’s huge!” I exclaim, violently shaking my head. “And that price! There’s no reason we should spend this m—”
“We?”he cuts me off, a bewildered look on his face.
We lock eyes, as the awkwardness of what I’d just said lingers between us.
“It’smymoney,” he adds.
“Yes, yes, of course, but…” I stutter helplessly. “Well, you asked me what I like, and I like that one.”
I point at the delicate Etincelle ring at the front. The ring Logan wants to see on my finger costs about ten times as much, and it doesn’t suit my style at all.
“Out of the question,” he says. “It has to be credible.”
“I’m the one who has to wear it,” I add for consideration.
He shrugs. “Like I said, you don’t have to like it.”
I let out a deep sigh, while scanning the display in front of me. The rings only vary in size and shape—and the amount of little diamonds that pave the ring. But no matter how much I try to warm up to the most expensive models, my eyes keep traveling back to the modestÉtincelle.
“How about a compromise,” I suggest. “That’s what marriage is all about isn’t it?”
He clears his throat. “We’re not getting ma—”
“Yes, I know, but it has to look like we’re about to,” I say, trying to ignore the lump that forms in my throat.
This is all just pretend. Why does it hurt to be reminded of that? We’re not buying this ring to celebrate our happiness, but to convince the world that we are. I shouldn’t allow myself to indulge in all the pretty things he’s buying for me.
“That’s what I’m saying. It has to look convincing,” Logan argues. “And I would never buy a ring like that.”
I deflate with a heavy sigh while my eye trailsalong the many diamond rings in front of me, all of them way flashier than anything I’d ever imagined for myself.
It was not a lie when I said that Burberry just wasn’t my style, but that’s not really the reason why I find it so hard to accept these gifts. It’s because I feel I don’t deserve them. They are not me, because I am not a girl who deserves to be showered in this kind of wealth. I’m nobody, an unwanted foster child who failed at fulfilling her desire for normalcy over and over.
“You said you wanted a compromise,” he says. “How’s that one for a compromise?”
He points at a smaller version of the Solitaire 1895. It’s a bit smaller than the one he suggested originally, and while the price is still in the five figure range, it doesn’t come close to his first choice. It’s a brilliant-cut diamond, sitting on a delicate platinum ring.
“I think that could work,” I say.
“Good.” He nods and waves over the sales woman, who has been watching us from a distance all this time. She comes running in an instant, sporting a welcoming smile.
“Anything you’d like to try on?”she asks.
“Yes, that Solitaire 1895,” Logan responds in my place, pointing at the ring.
“Of course,” she says, as she produces a key from a drawer behind the display.
“Do you know your ring size?” Logan asks me, while the woman is opening the cabinet for us.
I shake my head. “No, I’ve never worn a ring before.”
“That’s no problem,” the woman says, as she comes back up from behind the cabinet. “We can figure that out for you.”
