“It wasn’t easy,” I answered. “Look, I checked out things from other people. I couldn’t go 10 or 11 carats. It just wasn’t possible – without asking Liz to pay for her own ring.”“That isn’t what I’m saying,” Jill cut in with gentle tones. “It isn’t how much you spent. She isn’t going to care about that.”“I care about that,” I interrupted.“You shouldn’t,” Jill said, shaking her head.“Yeah, like every motherfucking tabloid in America isn’t going to have a picture of that fucking thing front and center the first time Liz steps outside,” I said. “It’s going to be analyzed and scrutinized and appraised a million fucking times. It’s the best I could do and I’m still going to come off looking like an asshole.”Jill was shaking her head.“She won’t care if it came from a gumball machine,” Jill insisted. “It’s the sentiment – not the price tag.”“Intellectually, I know that,” I said. “But I wanted to get her something ... nice ... something that she isn’t going to be embarrassed about.”“Let me. I nodded, adding, “I’ll be right over.”Jeff was on the far side of the table. The Pizza box, two paper plates and the 6 pack of beer sat almost in front of him. As I sat down, I told him I finished my work so this was a good way to end my day. "Oh, great. Great!", he said as he nodded his head, and then he added, "Nice." He said it with an impish grin that made me wonder what he was thinking. Right after that, he was back to his old self and we started digging into the pizza, drinking beer and talking like new best friends. We were really enjoying each others company. Every once in a while, Jeff’s hands slid down into his crotch, and, from the movement of his shoulders, I thought he was rubbing his thigh. The beer was gone and our meal was starting to get cold but our interest in each other had started heating up. We talked about college, interests, music, and some stuff that was only interesting because he wanted to talk about it. At one quiet point, Jeff excused himself to go take.
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