“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I didn’t take into account that my ‘handful’ would be a lot bigger than my mom’s.”
I’m relieved when I cut the meatball and it not only falls away tenderly, but the meat inside is cooked through. “Okay. Here goes,” I say, pretending my trepidation is fake. I dip the beef chunk in some sauce and deliver it to my mouth, expecting the worst. My shoulders relax when I’m able to shoot him a sincere smile and say after swallowing, “Excellent.”
“Yeah?” He lifts his own fork, finally brave enough to see for himself.
Torzi whines next to me.
I send him a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, bud. I don’t think so.”
Jet swallows his first bite, then points his fork at the dog. “Go,” he commands.
After a protesting growl-grunt, the dog does as he’s told, prancing off in a huff.
“He wasn’t hurting anything,” I say, taking a sip of wine.
He rolls his shoulders, as if trying to loosen up. “I’d prefer to be alone with you, without him making his wise-ass comments over there.”
I laugh and reach for the piece of bread balanced on top of the other slices in the basket. Jet freezes, mid-chew, and watches my hand. I snatch the slice and playfully clutch it to my chest. “What? Did you want this piece?”
He smiles sickly. “No.”
Wondering what his problem is, I say coyly, “Because it’s mine. If you want it, you’ll have to come over here and get it from me.”
His eyes flicker back to the table. I follow his nervous glance. That’s when I see the corner of the baby blue cube peeking from the center of the basket.
The piece of bread in my hands tumbles into my lap and bounces onto the floor. Torzi swoops in, snatches the dropped food, and sprints away with his scavenged goods.
Neither Jet nor I take our eyes off the bread basket.
“What’s—” I finally manage, pointing at the blue box. “Is that— Wh… what is that?”
His hand shakes when he reaches to lift the basket from the table and holds it in front of me. When I make no move to pluck the Tiffany ring box from its yeasty nest, he does it himself. Dropping to his knee next to my chair, he pries the squeaky lid open, revealing a huge diamond-and-platinum engagement ring.
“Maura, I love you. I had a whole speech planned out to say when I gave you this, but now I can’t remember any of it. I do remember I’m supposed to ask you one question, though: will you marry me?”
If I keep staring at that giant rock, I won’t have to look at his face. Or into his eyes. So, I keep staring at the ring.
Finally, when I can’t possibly get away with staying silent, I breathe out and say sadly, “Oh, Jet.”
He shifts on his knee, which pops. “That’s not exactly the tone I was hoping you’d use when you saw this.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. “In fact, that sounds—”
I look away, at the wooden floor next to his knee. He bends farther, trying to make eye contact, but he’d have to lie down to achieve it.
I mumble, “Not yet. Not now.”
Closing the box with a snap, he pockets it and returns to his chair, his hands on either side of his plate, which he seems to be studying, as if a decent explanation is in the noodles. “Not yet,” he repeats.
I cover one of his hands with mine, but he yanks it away.
“Not never, either,” I say. “Just—”
“When?”
My mind races. “Well, I don’t know. But we’ve only been together for four months!”
“Closer to five. Our first date was at the beginning of January. It’s almost June.”
“Okay, whatever.”
“Not ‘whatever,’ Maura.” He finally looks up at me, but I wish he’d look back down. I wish I could look away. “I love you, and you say you love me—”
“I do! It’s not like I’ve been lying about it. I do love you.”
“Then I don’t understand. Who cares how many months we’ve been together? I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He pinches at his eyes. “Aw, damn. That was part of what I was supposed to say when I opened the ring box.”
“And that’s lovely, but I’m not as sure about ‘forever’ as you are. I’m not as sure about anything as you are.”
He drops his hand, revealing reddened eyes. “I’ve been waiting. I’ve been patient. I’ve been trying not to shout proposals at you for months. But lately, you’ve said some things that made me think you were ready. Still, I waited some more, to be safe. But you’re still telling me no?”
“No! Not ‘no.’”
“But not ‘yes.’”
“Not yet.” I gesture toward his bulging pocket. “That ring… It’s a perfect example of what makes me unsure about all of this.”
He digs it from his pants and opens the box, looking down at the glimmering jewel. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Probably nothing. Technically. But it’s ginormous!”
“So? I spent one month’s salary, like they say.”
That one bite of meatball is about to stage a comeback for the ages. “No, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did! Because you’re worth that and so much more.”
I cross to the windows and pull the curtains closed, despite the fact that Jet has no nearby neighbors, and his house isn’t visible from the road. “Put it away.”
“What’s your deal?” He sets the open box on the table between us.
I jab a finger at it. “You think I’m going to wear a ring that costs the equivalent of one month of your salary?”
“I was hoping, but obviously that’s not happening.”
“When that stupid marketing campaign came out about spending a month’s salary on forever, or whatever the hell they said, they were speaking to guys who make 50K a year, not twelve mil.”
“See? Everyone knows my personal business. You spouted off that figure like it’s your social security number.”
“It was in the papers constantly after
