My mom glances down at her food. “Oh, not as much as I would have liked. Maybe the next time we visit we can make it to a Broadway play or something fun like that.”
Charlotte’s giddy at the prospect. “Yes! Please. Walt, you’ll come with us, won’t you?”
“He’s busy, Charlotte,” I say, realizing it’s the first time I’ve spoken all dinner.
Three sets of eyes glance over to me as if just now realizing I’m present. I flush and reach for my wine glass.
“Oh my god,” Charlotte erupts suddenly, staring over at my hand. “How did I miss your ring earlier? Is that real? It can’t be!”
I pause with my glass halfway to my mouth and glance down at the gemstone as it twinkles beneath the light of the chandelier. It’s as beautiful as ever.
“It’s just on loan from Walt,” I say sheepishly. “Y’know…so people buy the whole marriage thing.”
He frowns but doesn’t contradict me in front of them.
“Give it here. Sheesh, let me see that thing.”
I hold out my hand for her, and instead of looking at the ring on my finger, she tugs it off and holds it up to the light.
The diamond twinkles in her gaze, making her look like a cartoon thief.
Then, to my horror, she slides it onto her ring finger and holds it up for us to see, even going so far as to toss a wink in Walt’s direction. “Eh? Pretty good, right? This could have been us, Walt.”
It feels like the floor is falling out from underneath me.
I’m not quite sure how we fell into this circumstance, this cringeworthy flirt-fest between my sister and my pretend husband, but one thing is very clear to me: I want it to stop. All evening, I’ve felt territorial about Walt. My body has been reacting as if my marriage to him is real, as if my sister has been flirting with the man I really love. My hand aches with the urge to reach across and nab my ring back from her, to tell her she had her chance and she squandered it.
“May I take a look?” my mom asks.
“In a minute,” Charlotte says, still admiring it on her finger.
I try to continue eating, but my risotto has turned into a chewy blob in my mouth. I force down my bite then set my fork on the edge of my plate.
“I’m not quite sure I understand what’s going on here,” my mom says, glancing between Walt and me. “Why was it necessary for Elizabeth to have a ring? Why is she living here? I thought the marriage was simply for legal reasons concerning the trust.”
“Yes, and then I realized it would be almost impossible to keep our marriage a secret,” Walt replies, sounding matter-of-fact. “So we agreed to place an announcement in The Times and make it official.”
“Oh! So the ring is just for show!” Charlotte says with a fit of giggles. “I love it! So secretive. So fun. I would have loved to play along had I known it wasn’t going to be just some boring contract.”
“Yes, well, you didn’t. You lied.”
My reply silences the table. Again, gazes flit to me, and this time, I don’t back down.
Charlotte’s beautiful features contort in confusion. “What?”
I stare her straight in the eyes. “I can’t sit here and listen to you make light of everything you’ve done, Charlotte. When your family needed you, you lied and claimed you were in love, and I bought it. I wanted you to be happy, but you didn’t give a damn about my happiness. To you, this is all some big game. Instead of helping, you ran off and did whatever the hell you wanted with no concern for your family. I had to step up and do the right thing. I had to marry a near stranger, and none of you gave a damn.” I turn to my mom now, trying to fight back angry tears. “You forced me to do it.”
“I did no such thing,” my mom argues haughtily.
I toss my napkin on my plate. “Are you kidding? The guilt you threw at me? The fact that you and Dad got yourselves into this position in the first place? You were going to lose everything if not for me. I had no choice. You guys ensured that.”
“Yes, well. It’s hardly a sacrifice.” Charlotte laughs, misreading my tone.
“I married a man I hardly knew, Charlotte!”
“Yes, and so what? Now you’re living in a palatial penthouse and wearing diamond rings. Give me a break,” she retorts, tossing my ring back at me. It clinks on my dinner plate, rolls over, and then settles with a squish inside my risotto.
Walt shoots to his feet, scraping his chair against the floor.
“I think we should end the evening.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Charlotte says, standing up beside him as if they’re a team. “Sorry my sister’s such a brat.”