by Teri Wilson
I take a deep breath and force my gaze elsewhere. Horse-drawn carriages decorated with clusters of jingle bells clip-clop toward Central Park, and the Plaza Hotel stands in the distance with its grand thirty-foot Christmas tree shining bright behind the hotel’s fancy iron gates.
Are we going back to Windsor?
The store is a stone’s throw away, right across the street. Maybe Jeremy’s forgotten something and needs to fetch it before we get on with the important part of the evening. Or maybe he’s taking me someplace nearby. That has to be it. Windsor isn’t even open this time of night.
But as we near the crosswalk, he takes hold of my mittened hand and leads me straight toward the stately jewelry store. Swaths of evergreen decorate the windows, and a wreath crafted exclusively from bright blue boxes tied with white ribbons hangs above the revolving door at the entrance to our workplace. It’s undeniably beautiful, even for a building I see on pretty much a daily basis.
“Here we are,” Jeremy says, gazing up at the shop windows, glowing gold for six towering stories. “Are you ready for your surprise?”
My breath hitches, and I have a sudden vision of being led to the I Do section and presented with case after case of engagement rings to choose from, like Reese Witherspoon’s over-the-top proposal from Patrick Dempsey in Sweet Home Alabama. But wait—didn’t that particular engagement end in disaster?
“I am,” I say, and my breath hangs in the air in a cloud of frost and anticipation.
We bypass the front entrance for the side door the employees use to enter the store, and the same security guard who waved goodbye to me two hours earlier smiles and holds the door open for us.
“Hi, Ashley.” He winks. “Merry Christmas.”
An amused look passes between the security officer and Jeremy, and my face grows hot. Am I supposed to be the last person in the building to hear about my own engagement?
“Merry Christmas,” I say.
The guard nods at Jeremy and glances at his watch. “Everything’s ready. You’ve got twenty minutes.”
“Perfect,” Jeremy’s grin widens and his hand slides onto the small of my back.
I’m getting more confused by the second, especially when he guides me in the opposite direction of the elevators that lead to the coveted I Do section and instead escorts me toward the sparkling glass cases on the first floor sales boutique. Another security guard—Sam, a retired police officer who typically works the overnight shift—is situated by the stationary display case that holds a place of honor at the very center of the room. On my first day at Windsor, I stood in front of the same exact display case, mesmerized by its contents. It’s where Jeremy and I first met.
The case contains a diamond necklace that Audrey Hepburn wore in one of her most iconic movie roles. A still from the movie is featured on the bottom corner of the display, with the necklace’s large center stone—a rare pink diamond—shining brightly from the dip between her collarbones. During store hours, the exquisite piece is always surrounded by a crowd of tourists. It’s strange to see it shining all alone in the dimly lit sales area now.
Even stranger—the door to the case is standing open. My eyes grow wide.
“What’s going on?” I ask, unable to tear my gaze from the glittering pink jewel.
“Your favorite necklace is being moved to the fancy Christmas party upstairs, along with some of our other more extravagant pieces. I know how much you love Audrey Hepburn and all those old movies, so I thought you might like to try it on while it’s out of its case.”
“Seriously?” I blink, and my hands fly to my throat. “Try it on? Me?”
I’m so stunned that I can’t seem to form a full sentence. Somewhere beyond my complete and utter shock, I’m vaguely aware that Jeremy’s surprise hasn’t turned out to be an engagement ring. But that’s okay. I’m going to get to try on Audrey’s necklace—the same outrageously glamorous diamond piece of jewelry that drives scores of visitors to Windsor every day. It’s not as exciting as a proposal, but it’s close.
“Yes, you.” Jeremy shrugged one shoulder. “I checked with the senior manager and he said it’s fine, as long as we’re quick. No pictures, though. We can’t let tourists think they can drop in and ask to try it on. And Sam here needs to keep an eye on us the whole time.”
Sam grins. He knows I loved Audrey. Pretty much everyone at Windsor does.
I nod. “I can deal with those rules.”
Jeremy’s eyebrows lift. “Are you surprised?”
“Yes.” I let out a laugh. “Stunned, actually.”
“Good. I wasn’t sure what to get you for Christmas, and this seemed as good as anything I could have bought and wrapped up in paper.” Jeremy waves toward Sam with a flourish and the guard begins removing the necklace from its black velvet cushion with gloved hands.
My smile stiffens into place.
But what about the ring in your pocket?
I don’t say it. Of course I don’t, because what Jeremy has just arranged means the world to me. Truly, it does.
But his comment about not knowing what to get me for Christmas confuses me, considering Maya’s insistence that he’s just purchased a diamond solitaire. If the ring isn’t for me, then who could it possibly be for?
Never mind. I force myself to concentrate on the iconic necklace glittering like crazy in Sam’s gentle grasp. The engagement ring will probably make its appearance during our holiday in Paris. Jeremy is simply trying to keep it a secret. In the meantime, getting to wear Audrey’s pink diamond, even for a moment, is a precious, precious gift.
I turn to smile at him, but he’s drifted back to the entrance where we entered the building and is busy chatting with the doorman. I’m pretty sure they’re discussing Jeremy’s fantasy hockey league, one of my boyfriend’s favorite topics.
Sam clears his throat, and my attention darts back to the necklace, draped carefully over his fingertips.
I take a deep breath, and for the first time since Jeremy arrived at my doorstep that evening, my holiday cheer takes a serious hit. It would be nice if Jeremy could don a pair of white jeweler’s gloves and put the necklace on me himself, but I realize that’s probably impossible. Looking after the expensive piece is Sam’s job.
Still. Doesn’t Jeremy at least want to watch me try it on?
Sam casts a disapproving glance in my boyfriend’s direction, so fleeting that I almost think I imagined it. Then he refocuses his attention on me and gives me a grandfatherly smile. The kindness in his gaze makes me inexplicably wistful. “Go on, then. Turn around and I’ll help you get it on. I’m sure it will look beautiful on you, Ashley.”
“Thanks.” I give him a wobbly smile, spin around and gather my hair in one hand so he can fasten the valuable string of diamonds around my neck.
The large center stone rests heavily against my skin, and before I examine my reflection in one of the nearby mirrors, I take a moment to close my eyes and remember the first time I saw it on film.
It was at the historic movie theater, back in Owl Lake. Aidan, my high school sweetheart, had taken me to my very first classic movie marathon, and I’d fallen instantly in love with the sweeping scores, the musical numbers and all the old-school Hollywood glamour. Classic movies became our thing after that. Aidan and I never missed the Palace Theatre’s monthly marathon. If he could see me now, wearing this necklace, he wouldn’t believe his eyes.
My eyelashes flutter open. At the first glimpse of my reflection, I hardly believe it myself. Nor can I fathom why memories of Aidan keep invading my thoughts today. Bumping into him shouldn’t be affecting me like this. It’s most unsettling…
Especially on a night when I thought I might be getting engaged to someone else.
I turn hopeful eyes in Jeremy’s direction, but his back is still turned toward me.
“Lovely,” Sam says, meeting my gaze in the mirro
r. “Just lovely.”
“It is, isn’t it?” My face goes warm. The diamonds around my neck sparkle brighter than the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, and tomorrow I’m leaving for Paris with the man I love. I tell myself that Maya is right—this is going to be the Christmas of my dreams.
But somewhere deep down, I’m not sure I believe.
After we leave Windsor, Jeremy and I go to a little hole-in-the-wall pizza place off Central Park with red-checkered tablecloths and clusters of plastic grapes dripping from the ceiling. It’s not Jeremy’s favorite, but I’ve always liked it because it reminds me of the quaint, cozy restaurants back home upstate.
Nestled at a table by the corner where we can watch the horse-drawn carriage wind their way through the park, we sip red wine and eat huge slices of pepperoni pizza, folded into a v-shape at the crust, New York-style. It’s the perfect dinner before our trip to Paris, a festive farewell to the city we both love so much.
Throughout the meal, my phone vibrates like crazy in my handbag. A tiny peek earlier showed me that Maya is on a major texting spree, begging for a play-by-play of the proposal that hasn’t quite happened yet, and my mom is still sending me photos of Owl Lake, all decked out in its holiday finest. She does this every year during December—her way of making sure I feel included in Christmas back home when I’m stuck working overtime at Windsor.
When Jeremy steps outside to take a work call, I sneak another glance at my text messages. The most recent photo from my mom is a shot of the Owl Lake firehouse. A huge wreath hangs over the station’s massive red doors, and swags of evergreen garland decorate the building on all sides. My throat goes thick as an unexpected wave of homesickness washes over me. I can’t remember the last time I set foot inside the firehouse. My dad retired as chief shortly after I moved to Manhattan, but our family celebrated many a holiday with his fellow firefighters during my childhood—Thanksgivings around the station’s long, rough-hewn farmhouse table and Christmas mornings filled with stockings, gingerbread and a fir tree in the corner, topped with a firefighter’s helmet instead of a star.
“Sorry about that,” Jeremy says, sliding back into his chair. “One of the managers had a question about the party guest list.”
Another text from Maya pops up on my screen.
Please let me be your Maid of Honor. A string of prayer hands emojis follows, and I shove my phone back into my bag as fast as I can.
“Duty calls, no problem,” I say with a smile. The pizza I just consumed suddenly feels like a boulder in the pit of my stomach.
Jeremy studies me from across the table. “Is everything okay? You seem a little…”
“I’m fine,” I say brightly. Too brightly, if I’m really being honest. “I was just thinking about Christmas traditions and family. That sort of thing.”
“Ah.” Jeremy nods as he repositions his napkin over his lap.
“How does your family celebrate? Will we go caroling? I’m not sure I know any French Christmas songs.” I’ve spent the past month trying to learn as much French as I can from a foreign language app on my phone, but it’s sadly lacking in holiday content.
Granted, Jeremy’s family isn’t actually French. His father is the vice president of a global bank, so they’re basically expats. Still, when in Rome and all that. For my very first Christmas in the City of Lights, I want to at least be able to say Joyeux Noël with a proper French accent.
Jeremy practically snorts. “You’re safe. There definitely won’t be any caroling.”
“Oh. That’s good, I suppose.” I pick up my wineglass.
“The holidays are going to be a little different than usual this year, anyway. My mom has already booked the ballroom at the Ritz the day after Christmas for the engagement party.”
I nearly choke on my Chianti. “Engagement party?”
Did I miss the part where Jeremy proposed?
Surely not. That definitely seems like something I’d remember.
“Didn’t I tell you? My brother is proposing to his girlfriend on Christmas Eve.” Jeremy lets out another snort, followed by a dramatic roll of his eyes.
I stare blankly at him, unsure which gives me more pause—his brother’s potential engagement or the massive eye roll. “Um, no. You haven’t mentioned it.”
“Well, he is. They’ve only been dating a few months. Can you believe it?”
It does seem lightning-fast compared to the three years Jeremy and I have been seeing each other. I try to convince myself the brevity of their coupledom is the reason for my boyfriend’s apparent cynicism, and then I try even harder to imagine how fun Christmas in Paris will be with a double engagement.
It will be fun. Maybe the party at the Ritz is for all of us and Jeremy just can’t say so without ruining the surprise of his own proposal. But if that’s the case, why mention the party at all?
“That is so exciting!” But even as I say the words and bounce a little dance in my seat, I realize that somewhere along the way, Maya and I might’ve both jumped to conclusions…and those conclusions could be wrong.
So.
Very.
Wrong.
“We’ll see. Let’s hope she says yes.” Jeremy shrugs. He couldn’t appear more disinterested in the topic at hand. “Josh asked me to buy the engagement ring for him with my employee discount. It’s already been sized, so it’s nonreturnable.”
I go still as he takes a giant bite of pizza. Part of me was expecting this from the moment he mentioned his brother. I didn’t want to believe it, but there isn’t any use in lying to myself anymore. The ring he’s been carrying around in his pocket all day isn’t for me. It never was.
Perhaps a small part of me should be relieved. I did, after all, experience a slight moment of panic when I’d first heard my boyfriend had been shopping in the I Do boutique.
But the sudden tightness in my chest doesn’t feel at all like relief. Nor do the unshed tears clouding my vision or the way my pulse has begun to pound so hard that I can’t fully catch my breath. This sensation isn’t relief at all. It feels more like heartbreak.
My phone buzzes again from the depths of my handbag. Maya, most likely. She’s probably sending me options for bridesmaid dresses. I want to crawl under the table and hide.
“It was nice of you to buy the ring for your brother,” I say, because I can’t keep sitting here in silence. That would definitely make Jeremy realize something is wrong.
But there’s an unmistakable tremor to my voice. I hear it. Jeremy hears it. Even the couple sitting at the table beside us hears it, if their sidelong glances are any indication. Hashtag awkward.
Jeremy frowns at me over his slice of pepperoni. He has a rogue string of mozzarella cheese stuck to his chin, which ordinarily would be something we’d both laugh about. Looking at it now makes me inexplicably weepy.
Get yourself together. An hour ago you were wearing Audrey Hepburn’s necklace, and tomorrow you’ll be on a plane to Paris. Everything is fine.
“What’s wrong?” Jeremy asks.
“Why did you roll your eyes just now?” The question slips right out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Jeremy’s brow furrows. The mozzarella on his chin doesn’t budge. “When?”
“Just a second ago, when you said Josh will be proposing to his girlfriend on Christmas Eve.” My voice has gone eerily calm with no trace of a tremor whatsoever. “You rolled your eyes so hard that I thought they might roll right out of your head.”
Jeremy stares at me for a beat before lowering the piece of pizza in his hand back down to the plate in front of him. “It didn’t mean anything. I just think it’s a little cliché, that’s all. I’m sure you agree.”
“With what, exactly? Is it a holiday engagement that’s cliché or the idea of marriage in general?” For the record, I don’t agree on either count. In fact, both options sound perfectly lovely
to me.
Jeremy shakes his head, clearly baffled. “I don’t understand why you’re getting upset.”
Don’t say it. Now is the time to swallow my disappointment, save what’s left of the evening and go home to get a good night’s sleep before our flight in the morning. If I admit that I heard about the ring and assumed it was meant for me, there will be no going back.
I don’t have to say it, though. The truth is apparently written all over my face.
“Oh no. No, no, no, no.” Jeremy’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “Maya told you about the ring, didn’t she? And you thought…”
My face burns with embarrassment.
“You said you had a special Christmas surprise for me tonight,” I say in my defense.
“And I did! The necklace, remember?” He nods enthusiastically, as if he’s accepting an award for Boyfriend of the Year. I’m feeling less and less inclined to tell him about the cheese stuck to his face. “Why in the world would we want to get married?”
Ouch.
I feel like crumpling right here in full view of the other pizza shop patrons. A woman at a nearby table groans out loud.
“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.” Jeremy holds up a hand, backpedaling before I can articulate a response. “You know how much I care about you.”
Do I, though?
He loves you. Of course he does.
A rebellious tear slides down my cheek as I remember how alone I felt in Windsor an hour ago when I couldn’t even get him to look at me—and earlier at my apartment when he noticed and then immediately dismissed the new vintage charm brooch I’d been working on for days. Tiny things I’ve tried my best to overlook suddenly seem like monumental red flags.
