Priceless

I hold it out of her reach. “Someone has to make decisions for us. By the way, tonight, we’re getting a delivery of mini cakes so we can decide what we want for the reception.” Wedding planning isn’t all that bad.

She shakes her head. “The wedding that isn’t happening, you mean.”

“Yes, that wedding. Besides, if you don’t think it’s going to happen, why do you care if I see you in a big poufy white dress?”

Stymied by my logic, she heaves a sigh and returns to her work. “I don’t know why you’re here,” she mumbles. “I never let anyone watch how I make my pieces.”

The admission takes me off guard and I’m inordinately pleased. “I like being your first.”

“I’m sure you do,” she says in a wry tone. “Aren’t you bored, though?”

“Not at all. This is interesting. I didn’t realize it was so complicated or that you used so many tools.” In her work room are grinders, torches, acid washes. Jewelry making is a dangerous business. The most weapon-like thing in my office is the letter opener. “I could watch you all day. I like seeing how your tongue pokes out between your lips when you’re doing something that requires particular detail. You have this satisfied smirk when things turn out the way you like and the lines on your forehead tell me how irritated you are. One line means only mild frustration and three is intense dislike.”

She rubs a self-conscious hand over her brow. “You got all that from today?”

“No, from the first time I met you until now. You had three lines the first day. You were really annoyed, weren’t you?”

She shoots a glare over her shoulder.

“But now it’s different,” I continue. “Your three lines are mostly being saved for your work, although you were mad when the delivery person dropped off sweet and sour pork and not sweet and sour chicken.”

The remains of her Chinese takeout lie forlornly on the desk to the side.

“No one likes sweet and sour pork over sweet and sour chicken,” she declares, her head bent over a magnifying glass. She’s placing the jewels in their settings. The whole process has been fascinating.

“I’ll remember that.” I have a whole file in my head of all the things that Maple London likes and dislikes. “No sweet and sour pork. Good thing I picked prime rib and stuffed hens for the wedding. There’s a vegetarian option, too. Since we’re short on time, we’re going to make every entree available to every guest and what doesn’t get consumed will be sent to the food kitchen on 45th. I’m also making a donation under your name to the organization that runs those shelters.”

She puts down a small setting tool and swivels around to face me. “You’re really planning to go through with this?”

I peer at her over the tablet. “Absolutely.”

“How can you be so sure? We just met a couple of weeks ago and now you want to marry me? It doesn’t make sense.” There are two lines now, ones of confusion but not anger. She doesn’t understand it all. Despite being an artist, her brain needs logic. Or maybe it’s that she needs everything to fit, like the jewels in a perfect setting.

“I saw you and I knew.”

“But how?”

I spread out my arms. “How does anyone know about anything? You know the sky is blue when you first open your eyes. It’s that simple and that obvious.”

“The sky isn’t actually blue.”

“Looks blue.”

“What if you fall out of love?”

There’s the real fear. She finally gives voice to her apprehension. “The sky is blue to me and always will be blue to me just like I love you now and will tomorrow. These things won’t change.”

She holds up the necklace, a breathtaking piece of art. The reclaimed metal has been transformed from the misshapen mass she started with into a delicate, but strong abstract version of an orange tree with the rough cut jewels serving as the fruit. It’s magnificent, much like the creator.

“I’ve always thought love is like this,” she muses, studying her art work. “Art put together one painstaking piece at a time. You can’t create this immediately. It takes time.” She drops her hand into her lap and looks up at me with confusion.

“Isn’t that what a relationship is? We take the raw materials and every day we work together to perfect it into a glorious creation? The jewels are our children affixed in the setting we’ve made.” I capture her hand and bring the necklace and her fingers to my mouth. “Today, we might be the lump of silver but in ten years or twenty years, we’ll be this perfect piece of art.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there’s no other option in my life. And not yours either,” I add, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.