*Really short. So sorry.*
“I bet you’re one of those always-the-bridesmaid-types. You look like the type that likes to help people all the time; doesn’t realise what a stunner she is.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. This clown had been bothering me for a good two minutes now and I was still figuring out if he was annoying or amusing. He wasn’t especially good- or bad-looking, just average. He’d taken one look at me sitting in that jewellery store, saw no ring on my fourth finger and promptly sat himself down next to me at the counter. He hadn’t asked whether I was single or not; he seemed to think he didn’t need to.
“What’s your name, anyway, gorgeous?” he asked with a wink, the first real thing he’d asked me about myself.
This time I did roll my eyes. I debated on not telling him for a moment or two before deciding it couldn’t do any real harm. “My name is Theodora, Martin.”
He went to say something, then abruptly stopped, frowning. “How do you know my name?”
“Doesn’t everyone know everyone around these parts?” I asked, waving my hand around, though it was clear I didn’t just mean the jewellery shop that sat on King’s Road. I meant the whole of Chelsea; of Fulham and pretty much any surrounding area. I’d been introduced to more old wealth and rich kids in the past month than I ever had my whole life. I didn’t mind, though; I knew that some of the nastier ones didn’t speak for everyone.
“Yeah, I thought so, but I don’t know you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Martin,” I said, smirking.
The store’s clerk came just then, cutting off any cheesy one-liner Martin may have thrown at me. He let his gaze flicker over my company for a second before handing me a small velvet box with a secretive smile.
“Here’s your ring back, Miss Eldridge,” he said whilst looking at Martin, whose eyes widened at the word ‘ring.’ Both watched as I opened the petite box. Inside sat a silver band with a thirty-one-carat white diamond set in the middle, framed by much smaller diamonds I didn’t know the value of. I wasn’t much for ostentatious things but I had to admit… I liked how utterly, ridiculously glamourous it was. I loved the weight of it against my finger and the specks of light that were blinding when they hit the light.
“Thank you, Peter,” I said, beaming at the clerk, who seemed to glow at my gratitude. He glowed evermore when I handed him the hefty ‘tip’ I’d promised for speeding up the cleaning process. I didn’t like to be parted from it for too long because, at the end of the day, I was still just a normal girl that got a little worried about hanging onto such precious things. That ring was more than two times the amount my parents’ house had cost.
“Eldridge…” repeated Martin whilst I slipped it back onto my fourth finger. I admired it a second more before looking at him, just as he recognised me. “Oh! You’re Auberon’s fiancée, aren’t you?”
I smiled. “That, I am.” I also knew Ron hated it when anybody called him by his full name.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You didn’t ask,” I said with a shrug. Then I shot him a look that somehow managed to be both sympathetic and stern. “Look, Martin, you assumed I was single just because I was not wearing a ring. You were patronising, degrading and downright suggestive. It was very insulting and no woman will ever want to be with you if you continue to act that way.”
He looked shocked and ashamed.
“But,” I continued, “you also have a lot going for you. You’re young, wealthy… you have good looks. Maybe if you treated women with a little more respect and didn’t shoot your mouth off so much, you would get somewhere. Do you understand, Martin?”
He nodded.
I think I had gone a little too far but regretted nothing I’d said, as he needed to hear that. I was just opening the store’s front door when I heard him murmur his thanks. I turned my head around to give him one last smile. “You’re welcome, Martin. I’ll get Ron to send you an invite for tomorrow. There’ll be a lot of eligible women there for you to test your new technique out on.”
I was only able to see Ron for an hour before we were separated by our traditional mothers, so I made sure to hurry home to avoid wasting time. I knew we would only be away from one another for a mere evening, but my usual desire to constantly be around him was amplified still by the fact that we would be man and wife tomorrow. Or, rather, husband and wife; Ron’d been adamant that the Priest say those words so as not to degrade me.
“I’m not gonna’ lie, honey, you’re a thousand times better than me... but in principle, we’re equals,” he’d said in defense when I’d protested, thinking him silly, and I remember I’d nearly smiled as much as when he’d actually proposed. He was always saying stuff like that. Ours had been a short engagement, but I was glad. I wanted to be his wife as soon as possible.
He was already home when I got back, but I could tell by the lack of animated chatter in the house that neither of our mothers were here yet. The realisation made me grin and I practically jumped on him when I spotted him in the living room, making him give a small ‘oomph’ as he fell back against the cushions.
“Well, hello there,” he said with a wink, linking his hands behind my back.
“Hey,” I whispered. We just stared at each other for a moment in that goofy, amused way we often did before I couldn’t take it anymore and leaned forwards to kiss him. I hadn’t intended it to be a short kiss and it most definitely wasn’t, as when we pulled away we were both out of breath with our hands on the other’s body. Somehow, my fingers had trailed under his shirt to massage his hard chest. “How long do you think we have?” I whispered through bee-stung lips.
“About that-”
“Ron, no.”
“But why? We’re walking down the aisle together, anyway, going to a hotel wouldn’t be that-”
“Honey,” I said softly, moving one of my hands to stroke his cheek, “you know it would kill them. It’s not worth it, they’re already upset about not giving me away.” Originally, they both had wanted to walk me down the aisle, but Ron had had another of his protests against the sexist tradition, claiming I was not a possession to ‘give away.’ I actually agreed with this one; plus, my father had been out of the picture so long I wasn’t really offending anyone. Except maybe a whole religion.
“Fine.” He pouted slightly.
I laughed loudly at the look on his face. “You’re so adorable.”
“No, I’m not!” His chest puffed out. “I’m sexy and manly.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot. I can get muddled up when I see you using my eyelash curler.”
“That was one time!”
I giggled again, and his expression softened into something much more intimate. His hands went back onto my hips and squeezed them lovingly. “I love you so much,” he sighed.
I leaned down do my head was resting against his chest. As he stroked my back and kissed my hair, I, too, vowed, “I love you more.”
“Impossible.”
