She grew up working on her parents’ farm in Kansas, and is an incredible vegan cook devoted to using local produce. This is obviously difficult in the long Chicago winter, but you would not believe what she can do with preserved lemons and roasted beets. I haven’t eaten meat in months.
She’s an only child and longs for a big family with kids and dogs and relatives running around. She can’t wait to get pregnant—she thinks she’ll love the experience of creating a life inside her body, being so close to someone sheloves so much. We spend a lot of time talking about what we’ll name our kids. (Current favorites are Jane, after Sarah’s mom, and Sam, after my godfather.)
She’s generous and intuitive in bed, and on Sundays we stay in and make love. She likes to lock eyes, go slow, check in. The first time we had sex, she cried, and it made me cry too.
Her apartment is filled floor-to-ceiling with pictures of the people close to her—frames crowding on frames of treasured friends and family. Because who could meet Sarah Louise Taylor and not fall head over heels in love with her?
Certainly not me.
Currently, Sarah is in Milwaukee at a conference, which has afforded me a prime opportunity for a boys’ weekend in New York with Jon and Kevin. Sarah thinks I’m here to enjoy restaurants and theater with old friends. In fact, I’m here to buy her an engagement ring under the guidance of two people who have much better taste than I do.
It’s only been six months, but we are both ready to settle down. I know she’ll say yes.
Jon and Kevin meet me for brunch at my hotel in Union Square, and we all exchange bear hugs. Jon and Kevin both live in Brooklyn, and even though it’s a short flight from Chicago to New York, we don’t see one another more than a few times a year. I’m envious of their proximity to each other. I have lots of buddies in Chicago, but for some reason, I don’t have a best friend.
They look great. Jon’s silver fox hair is swept back in a more fashionable cut than he usually wears, and he looks like he’s added a few pounds of muscle to his slender physique. I’m sure all his students have crushes on him. Kevin’s grown a rather dapper mustache, waxed at the corners, and his huge Tom Selleck frame is clad in one of hislooks—a fashion editor to his core, he always wearslooks—today’s involving a frayed asymmetrical sweater and leather pants.
“So how is the illustrious Sarah Louise?” Jon asks.
“The dream and the vision,” Kevin intones.
“I miss her,” Jon says. “And I’ve only met her once.”
“I miss her, and I haven’t even met her,” Kevin says.
I grin. “We should fix that. Maybe I’ll bring her here for our engagement trip.”
“Oh God, why?” Jon groans, wrinkling his nose. Jon notoriously hates New York, despite having lived here since graduating college.
“So where are we going first?” I ask them.
“Roman & Roman,” Kevin pronounces. Kevin took it upon himself to spearhead my search as soon as I mentioned I wanted to propose. “They specialize in antique engagement rings. Beautiful stuff. Highly unusual pieces. You’ll love it.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say.
We finish brunch and amble through the Union Square greenmarket. I love the smell of farmers markets, the fresh flowers and dirt. I’ll have to take Sarah Louise here. She thinks she’s not a New York person, but I bet she would be if we came together.
A woman with a chic blond pageboy greets us as soon as we walk into the jewelry store. “Kevin!” she says, moving in for a hug.
“Seth, this is Adair,” he says. “We go all the way back to my days atIconic.I had her pull some pieces for you.”
“For Sarah Louise, right?” she says with a warm smile. “Kevin told me all about her and I think I have some options that might be perfect.”
She leads us through the wood-paneled, minimalist space to a small room with a case of glimmering rings in black velvet waiting on a table.
She pulls out a platinum ring with a large, round center stone. “This is an estate piece. Rose cut, two carats. Incredibly classic.”
Kevin makes a noise like he’s having an orgasm. “Want,” he moans.
“That’s pretty,” Jon says.
“I’m not sure,” I demur. Something about it seems too much. Like it would make more of a fuss on Sarah’s finger than she might be comfortable with. “It might be too… statementy.”
Adair nods like she knows what I mean. She puts it back and pulls out a much smaller ring with a diamond surrounded by green sparkly rectangles.
“Art deco,” Adair says. “Brilliant cut, flanked by these four exquisite emerald baguettes. So delicate—look at the filigree along the edges.”
“Ooh, I love that,” Jon says. “Reminds me of the Chrysler building.”
