Tread

July 2

I don't see Helmi or Antonia again. Leo sleeps on the floor and leaves before sunrise. The cool hotel room is the perfect place to bawl my eyes out, but I stifle it, forcing myself to take a shower and get ready. I'm in Paris. Paris! And yes, things aren't going perfectly, but I have less than twelve hours in this amazing city and I don't want to waste it.

My cheery mentality lasts through my shower and as I dress, but a small rectangular bag with fancy cursive catches my eyes on the TV stand behind the small flat screen. I remember Leo saying he bought me something, and knowing him it's probably some lingerie he wants to rip off. Moving from the bed, I think about wearing whatever Leo bought me and sending him a picture; maybe that would calm the man down enough to come back.

Picking up the bag, I shuffle through layers of lilac stuffing paper to a tiny stump of smooth wood. "Okay..." So not what I was expecting.

Turning the stump over in my hand, I try to figure out why it warranted such a nice bag. "Maybe it's like a weird sex toy," I mutter to myself, remembering the glass dildos I'd once seen.

The box shifts in my hand, an inch of the top sliding over to reveal a thin silver band with a square diamond perched on top. I stare at the ring for a full second until reflex kicks in and I drop it, screaming. Then I scream again because I just dropped an engagement ring. A ring Leo is going to use to propose. A ring that—as I pick up the box and tug the jewelry out—fits my finger perfectly.

"Fuckity Fuck Fuuuuuuuck!" I groan, holding my hand out and looking at my finger.

I toe the receipt under the bed and try not to think about how much he spent or what the hell he was thinking about when he bought it. "Maybe it's not for me." My eyes roll a second later and I snort, "Yeah right."

Yeah. Right.

I start to pace, talking to myself, "So he bought me a ring. Well, maybe it's not the ring I think it is. This could just be a thanks-for-having-sex-with-me ring. Or he bought it for himself. Men wear pinky rings." Glancing at my finger again, I dismiss those ideas. "God, what was he thinking?"

For hours, I pace and fight with myself and try to put myself in Leo's shoes. I'm unsuccessful. After all, never once did I think about getting married to him. Well, maybe once. But that was at the very beginning and only for like a minute before reality hit that this is all fun and games. "Fun and games 'til someone pulls out a ring."

Noon hits and I stop pacing as realization hits me: Leo's a dick who pulled a dick move. Buying an engagement ring on the second to last day, leaving it in the room for me to find, not bringing it up yesterday when he said he loved me so he could rub it in my face today—all dick moves.

I'm contemplating putting Leo's balls in a blender when the door creaks open. I'm flat on the bed, hands clasped over my stomach, staring at the ceiling. "Rai," Leo starts slowly and I'm not sure if he sees the ring still on my finger or not. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking if I should put them in a food processor or a blender."

"Put what?"

"Your balls." I lean up on my elbows and stare at him, sweaty with his hair in a messy bun. Damn, the man looks too good to be true. "Can't decide which."

He closes the door and sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "Is this still about last night? I've gotten—"

I flip him my ring finger and he shuts up. His throat works, eyes fluttering in tandem with the pulse at his neck. "Where did you get that?"

"Let's start with what it is." I bounce up from the bed and approach him.

"It's a ring."

"Err. Wrong. It's an engagement ring. An engagement ring for me."