I call my sister while I’m in the Uber, headed home. I hiccup the sob story and beg her to come to my rescue. To come to my place, make me tea, and tell me all guys suck.

She is a good sister, and awhile later I am showered and in PJs, a fleece robe over my shoulders and a hot mug of tea in hand, and Sophia asks for the entire rundown, now that I am not in hysterics.

I tell her everything. The conversation I had with Samson at her wild bachelorette night, how he took me out to my favorite restaurant; how we cried, and he opened up to me. How he rented the ice skating rink and won me over with a quickie and a kiss. Lots of kisses. So many kisses.

“Okay, I get it. You had sex in a locker room,” she says. “Keep going. What happened next?”

I explain that he is HeartofGold, how when Bon Jovi blasted through the speakers I saw how he had orchestrated this entire night to cater to me. To trick me. To make me into a fool.

“Or maybe it was just his way of being romantic?” Sophia suggests.

I roll my eyes. “He pretended to be someone he wasn’t, all that time. I told him my deepest fears, my desires. I told him everything.”

“But, just hear me out okay?” she tries. “He wasn’t pretending. I mean, when he emailed you, he was being himself, wasn’t he?”

“I know your life is perfect, Sophia, and it’s probably hard to wrap your mind around my problems, but why are you on his side?”

“Sweetie,” she says, sitting next to me on the couch, wrapping her arms around me. “There aren’t any sides here. I just remember how smitten you were with the person you emailed back and forth with. You told me you were falling in love with that person, and you had no idea who he was. He could have been a creepy next-door neighbor. But it isn’t. It was Samson. A man you also fell for, twice now.”

“But he lied.”

“Or he was just scared.”

“But he should have told me it was him, back when I asked before Christmas. Instead, he just left me high and dry.”

“I thought you said he admitted that the holidays were really hard for him to get through?” Sophia says. “Maybe what he really needs is someone who understands him, accepts him, flaws and all.”

“I don’t know, Sophia,” I say, blowing my nose. “He’s scared of hurting someone... and what if he does? What if he breaks my heart?”

“But what if he puts it back together?”

* * *

Not knowing how I want to proceed, I wake up the next day determined to focus on something besides my own heart.

When Samson emails, as HeartofGold, I’m scared to open the email. But I do. Mostly because of course, I must know what he says.

From: heartofgold

To: avagracewentworth

Dear Ava Grace,

With all that I am and all that I hope to be, I am sorry. A thousand times over, I am sorry.

Always, Samson

Of course, I want to forgive him... and I will... but my heart aches, wishing he wanted to offer me more.

When I open my work email I get a custom order request.

From: mineandcoassistant

To: avagracedesigns

Hello!

On behalf of my boss, I would like to order a custom engagement ring.

He is a huge fan of your custom work, and loves the latest designs on your website and trusts your concepts.

According to him, it needs to be, “Beautiful, yet imperfect. Pure gold, but rough around the edges. Just like our love. It needs a glittering stone that sparkles, just like her—I want it to be unconventional yet something you can’t help but look at. Can’t help but fall in love with.”

There is no limit to the amount he would be willing to spend.

Also, he would like to supply the gold for the ring. Please be in touch with me so we can work together to get him exactly what he wants.

Thank you,

Linda Patterson

* * *

I read the email again, and then again. It’s hard not to feel jealous of this stranger, the man and also the woman he is asking to be his wife. He could succinctly express what he wants out of this ring, and why. In all the time I’ve been making jewelry, there have been plenty of times when I was brought to tears over the sweet sentiments and stories a couple has shared with me and how they expressed what they wanted their pieces to represent, but never have I read a man explain his love like this.

It takes my breath away.

Still, as I reread the email I can’t help but think it is the most unusual request. The customer isn’t contacting me directly. I pick up my phone.

I call Linda Patterson, to plan, and she explains that her boss wants to use a specific gold that holds a lot of meaning to him.

“That is actually really romantic,” I tell her. “Could I speak with him to get a better idea of what he would like the ring to look like?”

“No, that won’t work,” she tells me. “He really loves your work, and trusts your eye.”

“And money, you said there is no limit? I mean, would he want a two karat diamond or ten?”

“He wants whatever will best represent someone beautiful, yet imperfect. You can invoice me and I will put down a deposit, straight away. And I can express the gold to your studio as soon as you give me the go ahead.”

“So, he just wants me to design this ring, however I like, and spend as much as I want?” I laugh, thinking this request is insane.

“Exactly. How soon can you make it?”

“When do you need it?”

“In four weeks.”

“Well, that will require me to juggle my calendar around slightly—”

“No problem,” Linda says, cutting me off. “He will pay double for it.”

I’m unable to say no, obviously—money is money—but also this is the most exciting order I have ever received. I get the details, send an invoice, and Linda tells me the gold will be delivered via FedEx in twenty-four hours.

I hang up, laughing at the absurdity, but then tears spring to my eyes at the romantic man and the woman who is lucky enough to have him.

I open my design portfolio, determined to make the most beautiful ring I have ever created in my life.