“It seems a little far-fetched,” Dad adds.

“It’s going to be fine,” I recite for what feels like the millionth time today. “You don’t grow unless you take risks! You taught me that.”

“Right, but this seems . . .” Dad struggles to find the right word.

“Creative!” I shout.

“Ill-advised.” He settles on a word of his own at the exact same time.

There’s a long moment of silence. “Please trust me on this one,” I say.

I can hear him sigh. Mom speaks first. “We want to,” she says.

“Wow, look at that, already at my lunch place. Gotta go,” I say. I hang up before they can protest.

By Chloe is a hotbed of the kinds of customers who go for our pieces: well-off, well-versed in indie brands they learned about on Refinery29, and artsy (or they want their Instagram followers to think they are). I recognize pretty much all of the employees, since I eat here at least twice a week. I order my regular dish, and when I hand over my credit card to the cashier, her gaze follows my ring. She looks up at me appreciatively.

“That’s pretty,” she says, nodding at my hand.

It’s the first time we’ve ever had a personal conversation. “Thank you,” I say.

If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it for real. I linger by the napkin dispenser as I wait for my pasta to be ready and pull out my phone. I upload the ring photo from last night to both Facebook and Twitter. I refresh each platform once, and watch dozens of likes and comments spill in. People are so quick to be happy for me. It stings a little bit. Not even my post announcing the launch of our shop got so much positive feedback in such little time. An engagement marks a new phase in your life, sure, but it’s not an achievement.

Next, I open Gmail. I do some work as our company’s de facto publicist, and so I already have the email addresses for various editors at jewelry blogs, wedding sites, and women’s magazines saved in my contacts. I draft an email to all of them pitching a big story with the announcement that I’m engaged. I ask if they’d like to cover it.

It’s a risk, for sure. But so is doing nothing. Nobody’s exposed me as a fraud just yet, and our company’s bank account is flush. I call that a small victory. And today, that’s all I need.

• Chapter 3 •