Lauren Weisberger - Chasing Harry Winston

“This is Emmy Solomon,” she said as professionally as possible.

“Emmy? Is that you?”

“Leigh? How did you get this number?”

“I called your office here and said it was an emergency. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Sweetie, is everything okay? It’s two in the morning there.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I just wanted you to hear it from me before the word got out over e-mail. I’m engaged!”

“Engaged? Oh my god! Leigh, congratulations! I had no idea you guys were even thinking about it. This is so exciting! Tell me everything.” Emmy saw a uniformed staffer shoot her a nasty look, but she glared right back.

“I, uh, guess I wasn’t really expecting it, either,” Leigh said. “It just sort of came out of nowhere.”

“Well, how did he do it?”

Leigh described what was supposed to be a simple anniversary dinner, how haggish she’d looked and felt, and what each of them had ordered at Daniel in measured, factual detail. By the time she got to the dessert-time proposal, Emmy had started interrupting in a desperate attempt to get to the good stuff.

“I don’t care how you looked-what does the ring look like? And let me remind you that now is not the time for modesty.”

“It’s huge.”

“How huge?”

“Very huge.”

“Leigh!”

“Just under four.”

“Just under four! Carats? Four carats ?”

“I’m worried it’s too big. How can I wear something like that to work? I work in book publishing.” Leigh sighed.

Emmy wanted to scream. “I won’t even dignify it with a response. Did you tell Adriana that you think it’s…I can’t even bring myself to say it.”

“Yes. She told me if I think it’s too big I don’t deserve it.”

“I’ll second that. Now stop being a goddamn idiot and tell me more. Have you set a date yet? When do you think you’ll move into his place?”

The silence on the line was so complete that Emmy thought they’d been disconnected. “Leigh? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. We haven’t even come close to picking a date yet-I don’t know, next summer, I guess? The summer after?”

“Leigh! You’re thirty years old and not getting any younger. You think we’re going to let you be engaged for two years ? If I were you, I’d have that boy at the altar in five months. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m not waiting for anything,” Leigh said, sounding peeved. “I just don’t see what the big rush is all about. We just met, for chrissake.”

“You met a year ago, Leigh, and as you’ve pointed out yourself on numerous occasions, he fits every checklist of everything you’ve been looking for in a man. And more. You’d be insane not to lock this up at the earliest possible date. At the very least, you need to get yourself situated in his apartment. Stake your claim.”

“Emmy, you’re being ridiculous. ‘Stake my claim’? Are you kidding? You know how I feel about living together before marriage.”

Emmy shrieked a little and then, remembering where she was, slapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to abide by that absurd idea? My god, Leigh, you sound like some religious freak!”

“Oh, Emmy, save it. You know it has nothing to do with any religious or moral reason. It’s just the way I want it. It’s a little old-fashioned. So what?”

“Does Russell know?”

“He certainly knows how I feel in general.”

“But he doesn’t know that now, even though you’re engaged to be married, you’re not going to move in with him?”

“We haven’t gotten there yet. I’m sure he’ll be totally understanding.”

“Good god, Leigh. You know you’re going to have to live with him at some point, don’t you? Even though he’s a boy and he’s gross in the bathroom and might want the TV on sometimes when you don’t? You have thought about this, haven’t you?”

Leigh sighed and said, “I know. In theory that all sounds okay, but in reality…I’m just used to living alone. I like living alone. The noise, and the stuff all over the place, and the always having to talk even when you just want to sit on the couch and zone out…it’s terrifying.”

Slightly relieved that Leigh had, at the very least, opened up about her fear of cohabiting, Emmy eased a little. “I know, sweetie. It’s scary for everyone. Hell, Duncan and I dated for five years and never made it official. But you love him and he loves you and the two of you will figure it out. If you want to wait until you’re legal, well, who am I to tell you what-”

“I’m not in love with him, Emmy.” Leigh’s voice was unwavering and their connection was crystal clear, but Emmy was certain she hadn’t heard correctly.

“What did you say? I can’t hear a goddamn thing here.”

Leigh was silent on the other end.

“Leigh? Are you there? What did you just say?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Leigh whispered, her throat catching on the last word.

“Sweetheart, what do you mean? You two seem so happy together! You’ve never uttered a negative word about Russell, only told us over and over how sweet and kind and thoughtful he is,” Emmy coaxed.

“None of that changes the fact that sometimes I’m bored to tears when I’m with him. I know I shouldn’t be, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am. We don’t have anything in common! He loves sports; I love reading. He wants to go out and network and meet people, and I just want to hole up at home. He’s not the least bit interested in current events or the arts-just football, weight training, nutrition, stats. His college injury. I’m not denying that he’s a terrific guy, Em, but I’m not sure he’s terrific for me.”

Emmy liked to think of herself as fairly intuitive, but she hadn’t sensed this for a second. Nerves , she thought to herself. Nothing more than Leigh’s inability to accept that she deserved a great guy and had actually found one. Everyone knew that crazy passion or great love affairs cooled after the first few months, maybe a year. What mattered was finding someone who would be a good partner for the long haul. Who would stay by your side, be a good husband, a good father. And if Russell wasn’t that guy, she didn’t know who was. She began to explain exactly this to Leigh but she was interrupted by the scowling hotel employee, who tapped her roughly on the shoulder. “Madam? Kindly remove your shoes from the furniture.”

“Who’s that?” Leigh asked.

“Excuse me?” Emmy peered at the man; she was momentarily intimidated, but that quickly shifted to irritation.

“I requested that you please remove your shoes from the chair. We don’t sit like that here. ” The man stood rooted to his spot and peered at Emmy.

“Emmy, what’s going on? Who is that?”

Emmy, usually uncomfortable with any type of confrontation, felt a wave of anger course through her. She forgot all about Leigh and glared at the man. “ We don’t sit like that here? Did you really just say that to me?”

Leigh laughed. “Tell him how it is.”

Emmy made a point of speaking loudly into the phone. “I’m sitting in the lounge because it’s too goddamn dark to read in my own room-just sitting, mind you-and I have one of my legs tucked under me. And you want to know the type of shoes I’m putting all over the furniture? Ballet slippers. Like, not ballet-style flats but actual soleless ballet slippers. I’m a guest of this hotel, and he has the nerve to reprimand me like a child ?” She flashed her eyes upward to meet the man’s. He shook his head as if to say Ignorant American and turned-pirouetted, really-away.