Page 193 of Can't Always Get What You Want

Possibly.

I sit back in my velvet chair and look down at the box again, afraid to touch it.

Sensing my hesitation, the associate reaches down and lifts the ring from its satin cushion, handing it to me across the table.

It’s heavier than I expected. Warmer, too? The smooth metal gleams under the recessed lighting, the facets of the diamond sparkling in a way that causes my throat to tighten.

I can picture her wearing it.

Sitting across from me at breakfast, wrapped in my sweatshirt, hair a mess and coffee in hand, that ring winking its commitment as it sits on her finger.

This is it.

This is the ring I’m giving to the love of my life.

This ring is going on her finger.

I stare at it.

Swallow hard before placing it back in the box. The lid clicks shut and I push the box across the velvet tablecloth toward the associate stoically.

She offers a pleasant smile and begins wrapping it with practiced precision—tissue paper, cushioned pouch, a sleek black bag with gold, braided handles.

I don’t say a word.

Can’t.

I’m too busy picturing what comes next.

epilogue

Nova

One more month later…

There are two types of people in this world: those who daydream about wedding dresses and proposals—and the ones who swear they’re too practical to believe in all that nonsense and everything that goes along with it.

I’ve always been the second type. Or at least…I thought I was.

Lately though? I’ve been doing a whole lotta wondering.

“Fiancé,” I said to myself in the mirror last night after Luca had already climbed into bed. “Fee-yon-say.”

I kind of love the sound of it.

Nova Montagalo. Someone’sfiancée.

And no, I don’t think it’s too soon. I think it’sright.

I haven’t said any of this out loud to anyone—not even Poppy. I’m playing it cool. Zero pressure. The cool girlfriend who has no expectations of the future and living in the now.

Such a load of crap.

I think about babies. Vacations. Houses in the suburbs, preferably near my brother and Austin. I think about Lucaholding a baby and thedangerous levels of hornythat visual unleashes in my brain.

I’m not just in love—I’m infuture-trippinglove.

THIS SHIT IS SERIOUS!

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