Page 21 of Our Big White Lie
“It looks fine to me,” I said.
“Me too.” Tori turned them between her fingers. “These are super pretty.”
I glanced at her. Then the rings. Then my mom. “So you… You’re letting us wear these?”
“I’m not letting youwearthem.” Mom smiled. “I’m letting youhavethem. They’re family heirlooms that were meant to be passed on to my daughters.” Gesturing at both of us, she smiled even bigger. “I held on to them for my girls, and that’s exactly where they’re going.”
My throat tightened with the threat of tears. The guilt was still there, but it was mostly elbowed out of the way by this realization of just how much Mom adored Tori. Though Tori wasn’t really my fiancée, she’d been close to Mom for years. That Mom was so happy at the prospect of Tori wearing one of hergrandmothers’ rings—that she was so eager to embrace Tori as her second daughter—really choked me up.
And… yeah, it definitely made me feel guilty, too.
But I didn’t say anything. Mom was happy, and that was the whole point of this. I trusted Tori implicitly to take care of the rings and to give them back later. My great-grandma’s heirlooms were safe with her.
I cleared my throat and turned to Tori. “So, um… which do you want to wear?”
“They’re your family’s rings. It should be your choice.”
“But you’re going to wear one too.” I paused. “I mean, if you want to. You don’t have to wear?—”
“I’d love to wear one,” she said softly. “They’re both gorgeous.” She paused. “Your engagement ring is yellow, but we could always plate it white or trade it in for something white if you want to wear the other set.” She touched my arm. “You pick.”
I held her gaze, and my heart was doing things it really shouldn’t have been doing while my purely platonic best friend and I figured out what rings to wear for our fake marriage.
I shifted my attention to the rings. They were both beautiful, and I wouldn’t have objected to wearing either. I didn’t feel particularly possessive about one or the other; Tori wearing one felt like it was staying in the family anyway.
I tried not to think too much about that.
I glanced at Tori’s hand. She wore a lot of rings, and the vast majority of them were silver. Today she had on a slim band on her pinky and a chunkier filigreed piece on her right ring finger. I had no idea what metal—if they were actually silver, white gold, or if she’d sprung for platinum—but she definitely preferred the color silver over gold.
Me? I didn’t really care. I didn’t wear a lot of jewelry, and I was fine with either color.
Which made the choice a no-brainer.
I held up the gold set in my hand. “Why don’t I wear this one, and you take the white gold?”
Her eyes lit up. “Are you sure?”
“Of course! It goes with most of your jewelry.”
“It does.” She turned the ring between her fingers. “We should see if they fit.” Tori grimaced, facing my mom. “I’m kind of afraid to get them sized, though.”
Mom waved that away. “They’re meant to be worn, honey. If that means adjusting them, then that’s what it means.” She gestured at the rings. “Put them, on. Let’s see how they fit.”
Tori’s, it turned out, wouldn’t need to be sized. It slid over her finger without any effort, and she had to tug it just a little to take it off.
The set I’d be wearing wouldn’t make it over my second knuckle.
“Oh my God,” I said. “Did Great-Grandma Carson have super-tiny hands or something?”
“I don’t think she was more than five feet tall,” Mom replied. “Your great-grandpa wasn’t a big man, but hetoweredover her.”
“Wow.” I took the ring off. “Definitely going to need to get this sized, then.”
“We’ll take it to the jewelry store this week.” Tori gestured with the other ring. “We should probably get this one checked, too—make sure the stone is tight. I’ve heard they can come loose after a while, and I’d feel terrible if I lost your grandma’s diamond.
“Good idea,” Mom said.
Tori nodded and slipped the ring back into its box. I did the same with mine.
