Page 17 of Offside Bride

“Ah yes! Happy couple. Come this way.”

He leads us to a small sitting room comfortably fitted with wingback chairs and mahogany furnishings. He invites us to sit down in front of a table with black velvet lining the surface.

Before he takes the seat opposite us, he extends his hand in a formal greeting. “My name is Anton Sorokin. I’m very pleased to meet you both.”

Maggie shakes his hand and smiles. “I’m Maggie.”

“Indeed. Beautiful lady,” he replies and kisses the back of her hand.

As I accept his handshake, I say, “I’m Sawyer. We spoke on the phone.”

Our very brief conversation consisted of the logistics and time of the meeting, but I did express my interest in keeping it short. I was told he’d have a selection we could choose from so we’d be done quickly. (Mostly because I was worried Maggie would be a flight risk.) But I don’t see any inventory on the table.

“Yes, yes,” he says cheerfully. “The hockey star. I don’t follow the sport myself, but I’ve seen highlights when I watch evening news. The fans are quite lively.”

“I guess you could say that,” I agree.

“Well,” he slaps his hands on the table. “I have a few collections in mind, but I like to meet the bride to give you best match, no? The perfect ring to match her beauty.”

“I’m sure anything you have will be fine,” Maggie says.

He shakes his finger. “Ah, ah, ah. I know these things. Fifty years to learn it. When you find the One, you will see. Diamond will sing. That is, if you want diamond. We do have other gems but…”

“Don’t you have cubic zirconias?” Maggie asks.

This makes Mr. Sorokin laugh heartily. “My dear. A wedding ring, it is forever. If you want fake diamond, they have at Eaton Center. Little kiosk by food court. Turn your finger green.”

“A diamond will be fine,” I say.

He winks at me and turns to unlock a tall cabinet behind him.

When he opens it, I see tray stacked over countless tray of what I can only imagine are each filled with rings. Or maybe loose diamonds. All I can think of is how this guy better have a good security system in place.

He hums while running his finger down the trays until it lands on one that makes him light up. He slides it out and places it on the table. “Marquise cut very good for small hands. Petite. Very delicate. Solitaire probably best.” He picks one of the rings from the tray and sets in front of Maggie. “Go ahead. Try on.”

Maggie stares at the ring like it’s a bomb about to detonate.

“I…thought I was just here for you to measure my ring size.”

“We size the ring after. Too big, I can fix. I do wonders, believe me.”

“I believe you. I do. It’s just…”

“I get it. Maybe you like surprise. Some women, they don’t like. Want to choose themself. Everybody so progressive these days.” He shrugs. “Eh, I think that’s okay. You have to love it.”

“Maybe just try it on, and we’ll go from there,” I suggest to Maggie.

“This just first one,” Mr. Sorokin says casually. “First one hardly ever the right one. You just try. Maybe you come in thinking you like emerald cut, but finger too small. Radiant cut also very elegant.”

Maggie gives me the side eye and slips the ring on her finger. As expected, the band is too big on her, and the weight of the diamond setting makes it swing down. She quickly takes it off and places it back on the velvet.

Mr. Sorokin hums and puts the ring back in the tray. “Marquise cut all wrong for you. Too understated.”

He goes back to his cabinet for another tray. At first, I think he’s going for smaller stones, but when he places them on the table, I hold in a gasp. The diamonds are only getting bigger.

“Oval maybe more suited for you my dear. You have such dainty hands but like pianist. Very, very elegant.”

“Uh, thank you?”

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