A Ring in the Drawer

A Ring in the Drawer
The office felt colder than usual, or maybe it was just me, too focused on the pile of design revisions waiting to be destroyed by the deadline. I sat in front of a massive screen, hair messily tied up, hands covered in sticky notes, and a cold cup of coffee that had long given up on being useful.
Two Zoom calls, one pending report, and a constant stream of notifications from the family group chat. Mom had already sent eight voice notes and two new photos of Dad sitting on the couch, stroking his new cat.
I tapped my pencil against the desk. The only thing that could save this day? Lunch with people who wouldn’t murder me for misaligning a blueprint line.
My phone buzzed.
Naomi: I’m starving. I’ll die in 10 minutes if we don’t eat. Downstairs. Now.
Joy: Already outside. Bring me iced tea, Naomi. I’m too lazy to move.
Naomi: Get your own, you leech.
I sighed, dropped my stylus, and got up, grabbing my bag and the sunglasses I wore more like armor than accessories.
The little restaurant tucked into a corner of SoHo was packed with office workers, clinking silverware, and the kind of garlic butter smells that made everyone forget how terrible their morning had been.
Naomi was already seated, half-buried in a pile of documents but still looking like she just stepped off a Milan runway. Hair flawlessly styled, minimalist makeup deadly on point, and a beige blazer way too expensive for someone who swore she'd quit her job the second she got the chance.
Joy sat next to her in an oversized tee, yoga pants, and the expression of someone who hadn’t agreed to exist today. Her hair was tossed into a lazy bun, nails sparkling with rhinestones, and the only serious thing on the table in front of her was her phone, which she was using to scroll through celebrity gossip.
“Look who’s alive,” Naomi said the moment I sat down. “I almost thought that man kidnapped you and locked you up in his absurdly large house.”
I scoffed and pulled off my sunglasses. “Reagan Milano doesn’t kidnap. He manipulates with flair.”
Joy squinted at me. “So… you’re still staying at his place?”
I spooned some soup and shrugged. “For now. Until I’m sure Dominic’s stable enough and I can survive mornings without killing someone.”
“Or until Reagan stops acting like a Greek god possessed by unresolved trauma,” Naomi said, stabbing her salad like it had personally wronged her.
I snorted. “This morning he wore a thin black T-shirt, Naomi. It was wet. With sweat. I nearly called Jesus.”
Joy held up a hand. “Okay, too early for erotic imagery. I haven’t eaten yet.”
“I said nearly,” I murmured. “My faith is strong, Joy.”
“You mean strong because you’re afraid of sin or because you’re afraid of falling in love again?” Naomi asked. Her voice was too soft to be teasing.
I looked at her for a second. Then laughed lightly. “You already know.”
We ate in silence for a few beats before Joy let out a dramatic groan.
“You know what sucks? Corporate life,” she said, slumping into her seat. “That’s why I never joined it.”
“You never joined because you’re lazy,” Naomi cut in.
Joy raised her glass of iced tea. “Exactly. I’m honest. You guys are just trapped in a broken capitalist machine. I’m free.”
Naomi and I exchanged a look. Then sighed in unison.
My phone buzzed again. Another family chat notification. Mom.
Mama:
New video of his cat, Gretta. Papa says he’s quieter than Dominic. Hahaha. Not sure if that means Dominic’s still mad or if this cat is just too holy. I talked to Father Miguel. He says I need to be more patient.
I let out a soft laugh.
“Queen Domingo again?” Naomi asked.
I nodded. “She says the priest told her to be more patient.”
Joy sighed like it hurt. “If a priest told Mama Domingo to be patient, he clearly has no idea who he’s dealing with.”
Naomi sipped her tea. “She still trying to find Ruan a wife?”
I laughed. “She’s started scouting the women who go to morning mass. Says at least they wake up early and fear God.”
Joy burst out laughing so loudly a few people turned around. “Does she know Ruan wakes up at two in the afternoon and fears losing his money more than he fears God?”
Naomi smirked. “Still better than Reagan. That man fears nothing. Not even sin.”
I didn’t laugh this time. Just smiled, faintly. “He said he regrets it,” I murmured.
Naomi turned to me. “About what happened before?”
I nodded slowly.
Joy leaned in. “And?”
I looked at them both. “I don’t know yet. But… he means it.”
Naomi reached across the table and gently touched my hand. “Whatever you decide, Gee, we’ve got your back. Even if that means burning down his grandmother’s mansion.”
Joy raised her glass. “And I can murder Madeline Milano with this tiny spoon.”
“I have Caleb,” I murmured, placing my spoon down with a soft clink. “He’s steady. He makes sense. And… he doesn’t make me feel like I’m playing with fire.”
“Oh no,” Naomi said quickly, holding up her hand like a traffic cop stopping a car crash. “You don’t get to start a sentence with ‘I have Caleb’ and expect us to nod in approval.”
Joy leaned in, her face twisted like she’d just heard the worst kind of gossip. “Gee. Seriously?”
I sighed, opened my purse, and pulled out my phone just to fake-check it. But the screen was blank. No new texts from Caleb. Just a few office updates and one lonely reminder about the community meeting this weekend.
“He proposed, Joy,” I said quietly. “Six months ago. At the place we first met. Norah Jones playing in the background, sunflowers everywhere. You know how much I love sunflowers. And we got officially engaged three weeks ago…”
Naomi blinked slowly. “You didn’t tell us about the sunflower proposal.”
“I didn’t know who to tell,” I admitted.
Joy snorted. “You should’ve started by telling yourself. Because from the way you just said all that? Not one part of you lit up.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “I don’t need to light up.”
Naomi’s voice was soft. “You need love, Gee. Real love. Not the safe, flat kind that feels like the water in a luxury hotel pool. You need the kind that makes you feel alive.”
“I had that once,” I whispered. “And it broke me.”
Naomi gently squeezed my hand. “But it wasn’t love that broke you. It was the situation. The people around it. The wounds you hadn’t healed yet.”
I stared down at my food, suddenly tasting nothing. “Caleb would never hurt me,” I said harshly. “He’s kind. He’s not wrapped up in family drama. He doesn’t have a grandmother who looks at me like I crawled out of hell. And he doesn’t have a mother who thinks I’m some maid who got lucky.”
Joy shrugged. “True. But he also doesn’t know how to look at you the way Reagan does.”
I blinked. “What are you talking about?”
Naomi’s voice dropped. “You really don’t see it, do you? Reagan looks at you like you’re the center of gravity in his whole damn universe. Like if you moved even an inch, he’d lose his balance.”
“And Caleb looks at you like he’s checking his savings account,” Joy added flatly.
I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out.
Naomi’s tone was soft but firm. “Gee. It’s better to hurt Caleb now than to hurt him later, when everything’s too far gone. You were never his. Not really. Half of you has always been somewhere else.”
“You don’t know how hard this is,” I muttered. “You know the history I have with Reagan. It’s messy. It’s painful. It’s dark. I don’t want to walk back into that labyrinth.”
Joy gave a dry laugh. “That labyrinth is the only place you’ve ever felt alive. Caleb? Caleb’s like a public park that opens at nine, closes at five, and gets boring after two laps.”
I laughed, bitterly.
Naomi stared at me, eyes steady. “Do whatever you need to do. But don’t stay because you’re afraid of being alone. And don’t marry someone because you want them to patch up your wounds.”
I closed my eyes for a second.
Three weeks since that proposal. The little diamond ring still sat in the top drawer of my Midtown apartment. Still in the box. I hadn’t even tried it on.
Caleb hadn’t asked why.
I opened my eyes again. “So you guys think I should break up with Caleb?”
“Gee,” Joy said, “we can’t decide that for you. But we do know one thing…”
Naomi finished for her. “You’ve never said you love him.”