No wonder he claimed he'd forgotten his ID the day we bought the ring—and paid with his father's instead.
No wonder that same associate took one look at him and said, *Oh, you're back.*
He'd taken her to buy it first.
He'd already signed the agreement with her.
These past few days, when she came to the apartment and saw the identical ring in the drawer, she must have been furious.
So Eugene threw mine away.
Maybe he'd been making her the same promise, day after day—that he'd marry her soon.
Maybe just this morning, he'd done for her mother exactly what he did for mine.
Something thick and wet seemed to fill my chest, pressing down, smothering, an ache so heavy I couldn't draw a full breath.
"Lottie, let me explain—"
"Please, Lottie, please!"
Before Eugene could finish, the girl dropped to her knees at my feet with a hard thud.
"I'm sorry. I swear I'll cut things off with Eugene right now!"
"But please, I'm begging you, can you give me back the ring?"
I looked back at the ring in my hand, glanced at her once, and smiled—cold, thin—then stretched my arm out the window.
"Don't—"