The Hockey Star's Regret

The Ring

Nathan opened the drawer in his nightstand. Three boxes. Side by side. He had bought them all from the same jeweler on Fifth Avenue over the course of three years. The first was a solitaire diamond. Classic. Safe. The kind of ring a man buys when he still believes love is simple. The second was a custom design.

He had worked with the jeweler for two weeks to get it right. A band shaped like interlocking hockey sticks. Stupid. Hopeful. The kind of thing that makes a man shake his head at his own younger self.

The third was the one he had carried in his pocket the night he got down on one knee in his apartment. Round cut. Platinum. The most expensive of the three. The one she had looked at and said "please don't push me."

He closed the drawer.

Those rings were for a woman who he loves dearly. A woman he had made up in his head. The real Leila was somewhere across the city right now, probably making breakfast for Oscar, probably laughing at something he said, probably not thinking about Nathan at all.

Samantha deserved a fresh ring. Fresh start. Fresh ring. That was the rule he was making up right now as he stood in his bedroom. Whatever came before didn't count. He would walk into the store, pick something clean and appropriate, and walk out. No sentiment. No meaning. Just a ring for a business arrangement.

He showered, dressed and drove downtown.

The jeweler on Fifth Avenue was called Marchetti. Small storefront. Exquisite designs. You had to know it was there. Nathan had been going there for five years. The owner, an old Italian man named Marco, greeted him by name every time.

The bell above the door chimed when Nathan walked in. Marco emerged from the back room. Short. Bald. Glasses perched on his nose. He smiled when he saw Nathan.

"Mr. Colton. Back again."

"Not again, Marco. For the first time."

Marco tilted his head. "I don't understand."

"I need an engagement ring. Something different from what I've looked at before."

"Ah." Marco's eyes flashed with understanding. He was a discreet man. He had sold Nathan three rings and never once asked questions. "Come. Sit. We find something new."

Nathan sat in the leather chair by the main display case. Marco brought out a tray. Six rings. Different cuts. Different settings. Different stones.

"This one is an emerald cut. Very clean. Very elegant." Marco held up the first ring. "This one is oval. Classic Nelson taste, if I may say."

Nathan looked at the tray. He tried to focus. He tried to think about Samantha. The dinner. The kiss on the porch. The merger. The twenty-eighth of next month. Five hundred guests.

But his mind kept drifting.

He picked up a ring. Turned it over. Set it down. Picked up another. Turned it over. Set it down.

Marco watched him patiently. He had seen this before. Men sitting in that same chair, staring at the same trays, trying to turn a piece of metal into a feeling they didn't have.

"Take your time," Marco said.

Nathan nodded.

The bell above the door chimed.

He didn't look up. He kept his eyes on the tray. Another customer. Fine. Marco would handle it.

Then he heard the laugh.

Not just any laugh. Her laugh. The one that had lived in his chest for five years like a second heartbeat.

Nathan looked up.

Leila walked through the door with Oscar right behind her. She was in jeans and a cropped hoodie. Hair down. No makeup. Looking like she had just rolled out of bed. Oscar had his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around the store with a lazy smirk.

Leila saw Nathan and stopped.

"Nate?"

Her eyes went to the tray in front of him. Then to Marco. Then back to Nathan. The pieces connected in her head. He watched it happen. The confusion. Then the look he had seen three times before. The one that meant she thought this was about her.

"Oh my God." She walked toward him, her face breaking into an amused smile "Nate, are you serious? Right now?"

"Leila…"

"You're doing it again. You're buying another ring."

"Leila, listen.."

"In a jewelry store? On a Wednesday morning?" She laughed and looked at Oscar. "See what I mean? He's obsessed. He can't help himself."

Oscar didn't laugh. He stepped forward slowly, his eyes running over the display cases, then over Nathan sitting in the chair. He let out a laugh.

"Man, this is a nice spot." Oscar picked up a small catalog from the counter and flipped through it like he owned the place. "How much do you think these go for? Ten? Twenty grand?" He looked at Nathan. "That a lot of money for a guy who manages hockey players. You sure you can afford this, Nate?"

Nathan didn't answer.

Oscar tossed the catalog back on the counter and leaned against the glass case. "I'm just saying. Leila told me about the other rings. The beach. The trophy thing. The apartment." He shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue. "Three times, bro. Three times she said no. That's not love. That's an obsession."

Leila shifted on her feet. "Oscar, come on.."

"Nah, I'm being real right now." Oscar looked at Nathan with flat eyes. "You keep pushing and pushing. What, you think if you spend enough money she'll finally say yes? That how you see her? Like something you can buy?"

Nathan's fist clenched. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you've been following her around for five years like a lost dog." Oscar's voice was calm. "I know you manage her career but somehow she's the one paying for your apartment. Wait, no. You pay for hers. Right. Because that's normal. A manager who pays his client's rent. That's not creepy at all."

"It's not like that," Leila said softly.

"Isn't it?" Oscar tilted his head at Nathan. "Let me ask you something, Nathan. When she says no, what do you hear? Because I hear no. You apparently hear "try harder." He looked at Leila. "Is this the kind of pressure you been dealing with? No wonder you're stressed all the time."

Leila crossed her arms. She looked at Nathan. The shift was happening. He could see it. Oscar was filling her head, re-framing everything, turning Nathan's love into an obsession.

"Nate, I told you. I'm not ready. I've told you three times. You can't keep doing this. It's embarrassing."

"Embarrassing," Nathan repeated.

"Yes. Every time I turn around, there you are with a ring. At the beach. At the championship. In the apartment. And now here? What, were you going to get down on one knee in the middle of Marchetti's?"

Oscar laughed. "Imagine that. Grown man on his knees in a jewelry store. Security would have a field day." He turned to Marco. "Hey, you got a back exit? In case he tries something crazy?"

Marco looked down at his tray and said nothing.