“So let’s show her,” I say, leaning across the console to give her a kiss. “Let’s go get your ring.”
“I don’t need a ring, Travis. It’s not like this is a real marriage.” Her voice wavers at the end, causing me to slightly move back.
“This is real for me, Saylor. I care about you and want to protect you. Besides, I have a feeling we were well on our way to falling in love before complications arose.” I know I should’ve told her right then that I am in love with her, but I hold back. Saylor seems to be apprehensive. I get it. I sprung this on her as a way to get us both out of our legal troubles.
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. Regardless of how she feels, I’m confident in my feelings toward her. Saylor does, however, reach over and grab my hand, and when I look at her out of the corner of my eye, she’s smiling. It may not be directed toward me, but the fact that she’s touching me and grinning like someone who’s about to get married speaks volumes.
The drive to the jewelers isn’t as painful as I thought. I expected to feel a rush of panic, for my palms to start sweating or my heart rate to skyrocket. But even as I get out of the car and help her out, I’m cool as a cucumber.
Inside, the saleswoman behind the cou
nter greets us with a smile. “Can I help you find something?”
“We’re looking for engagement rings,” Saylor says.
“Actually, wedding sets,” I interject, smiling at Saylor. I plan to wear a ring as well so everyone knows that I’m spoken for.
We are directed over to the side where their wedding pieces are. I can’t recall a time when I’ve purchased jewelry for anyone and am floored by the number of rings we can choose from.
“Do you see one you like?” I ask her.
“They’re all so pricey.”
“That’s not what I asked, Saylor.” I can see it in her eyes. There’s nervousness present in the way she’s acting. I can’t tell if she’s having second thoughts already or if she’s worried about the money I’m spending.
“Excuse me, but can you measure her ring finger so we know what size we’re looking for?”
“Sure,” the woman says. Saylor pulls her glove off and extends her hand, letting the lady measure. “She’s a five and a half.”
“Great—thanks.” I motion for Saylor to follow me to the other side of the room. “I’m doing this all wrong, and I can see the wheels spinning. You’re worried about cost and all that shit when it shouldn’t fucking matter. I should’ve been here this morning and had a ring picked out for you, but I’m an impulsive moron and didn’t think about this part until I had already asked you. So why don’t you go wait in the car and I’ll pick out what I want people to see every time you walk into a room, answer a phone, or open a door?”
“Okay.”
I hand her the key fob and watch her walk out and climb into my car. I turn back to the clerk, who is pulling out trays of diamond solitaires for me to look at.
“She’s beautiful and very lucky.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Nah, I’m the lucky one.” I look over my shoulder quickly to make sure she’s still in the car. Yeah, I’m that paranoid that she may change her mind before I can get her back to the courthouse in three days.
“What’s the biggest stone you have?” I don’t want anything too gaudy sitting on her finger, but I want something sizeable. There has to be no question in anyone’s mind that she’s my wife and that she’s spoken for. Something small won’t do.
The saleswoman returns with another tray. “These are shown in platinum, but the stones can be changed into a different band if you wanted gold.”
Every ring in the case sparkles, and the decision is hard. “That one,” I say, pointing to a single diamond on a platinum band.
“It’s understated, but at three carats it definitely makes a splash.”
I hold the ring in my hand even though I don’t have a clue as to what I’m looking at. I should’ve done some research, but we all know that’s not how I operate. One thing’s certain—this isn’t the right ring. “Hmm. I want something square.”
“Sure,” she says, pulling out another tray. She doesn’t need to know that it’s a reference to baseball and that if I’m giving up the game I love, at least I’ll be able to look at a diamond on Saylor’s finger and remember how she came into my life.
“That one.” I point to a diamond-shaped solitaire on a platinum band.
“Four carats.” She hands it to me as if I’m going to try it on.
“This is the one I want. What size is it?”
“Six, which is the standard size. We can have it sized, though, to fit her finger.” She motions toward the front window of the store. I turn and see Saylor looking my way. I wave, hoping that she can see me.