Free The Game by Calista Kyle

band. If I were to design my dream engagement ring, this would be it--classy yet understated. I felt a weird emotion flutter through me while staring down at it. I looked up at Rob then, an unfamiliar emotion choking my voice, and smiled.
    "This ring is beautiful," I said.
    He seemed pleased. "It looks beautiful on you," he said. Rob stood staring at the ring for a moment before he cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. "I think we've done what we set out to do," he whispered, darting his glance at the other diners who were busy taking cell phone pics of us.
    "I think you're right," I said, wistfully.
    If anything were to take me completely out of the mood, that did it. It was a stark reminder that my feelings and emotions were out of place. I needed to keep a tighter rein on them and stop from letting my imagination run wild. What was I even thinking? I didn't want to get married any more than Rob did, so why did his lack of emotion get to me? I should have been grateful that at least one of us had our heads screwed on right.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 9: Rob
     
    I stared at the ring on Emilia's finger and felt a wave of emotion wash over me. What was it? Longing? No, that was ridiculous. I was just feeling nostalgic. I'd remembered that ring ever since I was a boy. My grandmother had worn it since the day my grandfather had proposed to her. That's what was causing this sudden wave of emotion. Still, the ring fit perfectly on Emilia's hand. I didn't even have it resized. It was almost as if it was meant to be hers.
    When we had decided on getting engaged, I'd known at once that I wanted Emilia to wear my grandmother's ring. It was the ring I'd always imagined my future bride would wear, and I thought it would lend an air of authenticity to the whole engagement.
    Thinking it over now, I almost regret the decision. It was short sighted of me. Emilia was a fake fiancée, and my real, future fiancée (whoever that might be) might not appreciate getting a ring from me that I'd given to another woman. Looking down at the ring again, I knew that I'd never give it to another woman after seeing it on Emilia's hand.
    "What are you thinking?" Emilia asked me.
    I looked up at her then, and felt like I'd had the breath knocked out of me. Sitting here in the soft glow of the candle light, with her hair swept up off her shoulders, and looking at me with-- affection ?-- I thought Emilia was the most beautiful woman in the world. And I half wished this wasn't all fake. It was a troubling realization, and I quickly shook my head, trying to shut the door on that train of thought.
    "Nothing. Just admiring the ring on your finger," I said.
    Emilia lifted it and looked at it with a soft smile on her lips. "Yes, it is beautiful. I don't think I could have picked a better one," she said. "Where did you get it?"
    "It's a family heirloom," I answered.
    She widened her eyes in surprise. "A family heirloom?" she asked.
    "Yes, it was my grandmother's ring. I had it shipped from England just for this occasion," I said.
    She remained speechless and I wondered what she was thinking. Had I said too much? Made her uncomfortable with my gesture? She was probably wondering how to put me down nicely as if I were an overzealous fan.
    "Thank you," she finally said.
    "No need to thank me. I figured it'd be more realistic if I used a family heirloom rather than buy a new one. I hope you don't mind. I know how some women can get about their jewelry. My mother would never believe our engagement story if I'd given you a new, store bought ring," I said.
    "Oh."
    "Also, I'll need that ring back once the engagement is ended. You understand," I added.
    I don't know why I felt the need to tell her all that. At the look of hurt that crossed her face, I felt an instant stab of regret. Despite my tumultuous emotions, there was no reason to go and be a jerk about the whole thing. I knew I'd offended her with my comments and could have kicked myself.
    "Of course. I