She smiled. “Thanks.”
I meant what I said, but as the elevator descended, I still felt an ache take root in my chest. It was true—the ring was hers.
But it didn’t make her mine.
After touring the zoo, we ate lunch at the little café and strolled through Central Park. “Now what?” I asked her as we ambled down 5th Avenue.
“Shopping?” She peeked at me from beneath the bill of her cap. “I’d like to find a dress for our engagement party.”
“That’s what the internet is for.”
“You don’t have to come,” she said, laughing. “You can go back to the hotel if you want and I’ll meet you back there later. I get it—I’m not a huge shopper either, I just want to find something unique and stylish. Winnie told me to try NoLita or Soho.”
“It’s fine.” I sighed heavily. “I’ll go shopping.”
“Okay.” She jumped in front of me and stopped me with a hand to my chest. “But to be clear, you are not buying me anything. Your job is just to stand there and tell me how things look when I try them on.”
I groaned. “I have to go in to the stores?”
“Yes.”
“Is it too late to go back to the hotel?”
“Yes.” She moved to the curb and put up her arm to hail a cab. “But I promise it won’t be that bad.”
I spent the next couple hours trailing Felicity in and out of stores, watching her hold things up and check her reflection in the mirror, and hearing her comment about how great something would look on one of her sisters, but not on her. Occasionally, I waited while she tried something on, feeling like a creeper lurking about, keeping my eyes glued to my phone, positive all the other customers were staring at me and thinking they should call the police.
One time, Felicity came out from the dressing rooms in something and asked me what I thought.
“It looks great,” I said after giving her a passing glance. “You should get it.”
“Hutton, you didn’t even look at it.”
“Sorry.” I studied the short red dress with the ruffles at the bottom. “I like it.”
She stuck her hands on her hips. “What about it do you like?”
“The . . .” I gestured vaguely at the bottom. “Frilly things.”
She burst out laughing. “Thanks.”
“Can I wait outside?” I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead.
“Why?”
“Because I feel weird. People are staring. They think I’m a pervert here to spy on women changing clothes.”
Felicity pressed her lips together, then slowly brought her index fingers together above her head.
“Yeah. I know,” I muttered.
She sighed. “You can wait outside.”
Grateful to be released, I headed out and waited on the sidewalk. She came out a moment later without a bag. “You didn’t want to buy it?”
“Nah.”
“Why not?”
“It was expensive, and I—”
I headed toward the shop door. “I’ve got it.”
“Hutton, no.” She grabbed my arm. “It wasn’t right anyway. I didn’t love it.”
“Are you sure? Or are you just saying that?”
“I’m sure.” She tugged my hand. “Come on, let’s keep going.”
We strolled down the block in comfortable silence, and then she stopped short. “Oh, look.”
I followed her line of sight toward a small boutique named for a designer I’d never heard of: Cosette Lavigne. In the front window were three white dresses. “Are those wedding gowns?”
“I think so,” she said wistfully. “Aren’t they pretty?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her dreamy expression. “Go try one on.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not? Just for fun.”
“No, because what if I fall in love for real?”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Yes! I don’t want to try something on for fun, get my heart set on it, and then have to walk away.”
“You won’t,” I told her, taking her arm. “Come on.”
“Hutton, wait.” She braced herself and pulled against me like we were in a tug-of-war. “Why are we doing this?”
“What do you mean?”
“The ring was one thing. Like you said, a symbol of our friendship. And it’s something I can wear every day.” She looked at the dresses in the window. “I’ll never wear one of those dresses.”