Do two wrongs make a…Mr. Right?
How many sparkling ciders would it take to drown my misery? I might have found out if a handsome stranger hadn’t taken the barstool next to me.
He didn’t flinch at my choice of drink. Said all the right things. And when I confessed why I was sitting alone at the bar, he pulled out an engagement ring. Too soon? No worries.
It wasn’t actually an engagement ring.
It was adjustable, and its fake diamond made Cubic Zirconia seem like an extravagant option.
It was a piece of costume jewelry from a machine at the front of a grocery store. He’d gotten the trinket for his daughter.
But the way he looked into my eyes when he slid it onto my finger hit me deeper than anything my ex had ever done.
According to my close circle of friends, by the time the clock struck midnight and ushered out the horrendous year, the engagement ring they expected to see on my finger would be from my former boyfriend. He was back in town and everyone seemed to know he was going to make amends and pop the question.
But he was a former boyfriend for a reason.
And the ring sliding on my finger wasn’t from him.
Was it wrong to undermine his proposal in such a silly way?
Was it wrong to dream of my fake fiancé being something more?
And was I foolish to believe my knight in shining armor had shown up that fateful night purely by chance?