Page 91 of Five Gold Rings
‘But why?’
I take a huge breath. ‘Because you are amazing, Eve, and I’m sorry Chris never told you that, every hour of every day.’
‘And what if I told you I think the same about you?’ she says, nervously, her eyes full of tears now.
I stop for a moment. She has a hand out on the table and reaches for mine. As soon as our fingers touch, I can’t breathe, the moment is so potent I have to look at her hand to make sure it’s real. ‘I mean, I know I carry this crown off,’ I say. ‘Or is it my singing?’
‘That too, obviously… Also, you’re very good on boats. I’m attracted to your seaworthiness,’ she says, smiling broadly. ‘Or maybe it’s the fact that over the last few days I’ve seen someone who will do anything for anyone. He’s desperately kind, he’s human, he can wear shorts with bells and he’s someone who’s held my hand at a really awful time in my life. And maybe I don’t want to let go of that hand.’
And her cheeks blush as she grabs that hand tighter and says those words, out loud, to me. All at once, they make my being completely still, calm, relieved. The huge storm of emotion settles and she’s all I can see. My horizon. I can’t move. I never want to. Unfortunately, we might have to because I can see Kevin closing up Burger King, but I think this might be our own version of romance, some gesture and declaration of love.
‘I can’t quite tell if this is the end of a really long date,’ I tell her.
‘Or the beginning of something else…’ she tells me. I can’t wait anymore. I lean over and I kiss her. With hope, without hesitation. And unlike that moment with the mistletoe, or in Trafalgar Square, this feels different. A wonderfully new and intense feeling of love overwhelms me. That feeling of her being so close is an intoxicating type of magic. It really is all I ever wanted.
‘YES!’ a voice echoes through the room. I turn around to see Eve’s brother in a Christmas jumper, cheering from the entrance, a Red Bull in hand, hugging the man who’s been polishing the floor. I laugh, looking over at him.
‘I don’t know what to do now,’ I tell her, putting a hand to her face.
‘Well, I’m kinda starving. Would you mind if I took a bite of your Whopper,’ Eve jokes.
I grin, opening up the box, turning it towards her. ‘You are very welcome to my Whopper. I also have onion rings,’ I tell her proudly. She acts impressed but I won’t tell her I got them for free.
She looks quietly down at the tray and shakes them out on the paper then beams, counting them out. ‘Five go-old rings…’ she sings quietly. We both look down and laugh as she takes one and bites into it.
‘I can’t believe you made that joke,’ I tell her.
‘I sang that joke because, you know, you can’t sing…’
I fake shock at the insult.
‘And the joke told itself, really. Though technically it’s four gold rings because you bailed on me…’
‘I did not bail, I left you with your family. Santa can vouch for me.’
‘Oh, Santa was not impressed. He told me he saw you steal a turkey, too.’
‘He did, did he?’
‘Santa sees everything.’
And as this version of banter goes back and forth, I adjust Eve’s crown and sit back in my plastic seat. I don’t know what this is, but these last three days have shown us how this could be the beginning of something great. Maybe we go back to London for what’s left of Christmas, maybe we descend on Brighton, but whatever happens we’re together and the adventure continues. I study her face, the necklace glistening around her neck, the emotion in her eyes. As she speaks, Elton John turns into Chris Rea, the lights on the tree in the foyer continue to dance and scatter, and the clock behind us creeps closer towards the end of the first day of Christmas.
EPILOGUE
‘Hello, how can I help you today?’ I ask the gentleman as he walks into Caspar & Sons, worried, lost. I know that look. It’s a look that says, I have to buy something of incredible worth, as a symbol of my love for a significant other so it has to be perfect and basically, I don’t have a clue what I’m looking for.
‘Hi.’ He’s dressed in chinos and a smart light blue shirt. ‘I guess I’m looking for a ring.’
‘For any special occasion, sir?’
‘I was hoping to propose to my girlfriend,’ he says, gulping.
‘So, an engagement ring?’ He nods.
I smile and reach down to the counters, bringing some rings to the top, all embedded in red velvet cushions, small tags all handwritten, glistening in the early spring light that fills the shop.
‘Well, let’s see. Does your girlfriend have a preference for metal? Silver, gold?’