…I still saw a faint, white tan line—not on the base of her finger where an engagement ring sits, but higher up, near the knuckle.
It was the distinct, jagged shape of a class ring. Specifically, the heavy gold class ring that Tyler, my best man, had worn every single day since college.
I spun around to look at Tyler. He wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the floor, his face pale, twisting his own bare ring finger nervously.
The pieces clicked into place instantly. The late-night “planning sessions” they had together, the inside jokes, the way Tyler had been acting strange all morning.
“She forgot to take it off until five minutes ago,” one of the groomsmen said quietly. “We saw her slip it into his pocket in the vestry.”
Ellie started sobbing, reaching for my arm. “It’s not what you think! It was just for luck!”
I pulled my arm away and looked at Tyler. “Luck?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Tyler finally looked up, his eyes wet. “I’m sorry, man. We didn’t know how to tell you.”
I looked at the priest, then at the three groomsmen who had been brave enough to stop me from making the biggest mistake of my life.
“I object, too,” I said.
I turned my back on Ellie and Tyler and walked back down the aisle, signaling for the three loyal groomsmen to follow me. “Drinks are on me, boys.”
