I get a cab, go to the airport, fix my makeup and wig, and catch a quick flight to L.A.
When I’m safely back home, I strip everything off and hop in the shower. I’m in hangover hell, but my body hurts so good in all the right places.
I’m shampooing my hair when I notice something different.
I hold my left hand out in front of me and am shocked by the huge, gorgeous diamond ring on my finger. But then I relive the moment when those brown eyes gazed into mine as he said, I promise to make life fun, to help you live out your crazy dreams, and fuck you silly.
Visions of our hot sex, drunken laughter, club dancing, and wedding, plague me all day.
Much like my headache.
I stare at the ring. A ring like this had to cost a pretty penny. It can’t be real.
But I remember him telling me that it was when he proposed.
He must have been lying.
I gaze into the sparkling facets. This is so my dream ring, but I know I have to give it back to him.
Especially if it’s real.
I stop and think, wondering what he did when he woke up and realized I was gone.
Did he care?
Was he relieved?
Is it what he expected? I remember telling him quite a few times that it was a no-names night. Which, in retrospect, was pretty stupid of me. Because I know he knew who I was.
I guess if he wants the ring back, he can come find me, right?
Well, that should be my answer, but it’s not.
I cannot stop thinking about him and wonder if he’s as dreamy in real life as he seemed.
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