But then it happened, the inevitable next they never again mentioned, though sometimes, even over the telephone, Marianne could feel Eric thinking about it. Why had she said yes, only to say no the very next morning? Why had she led him on? She found herself thinking about it too: Why had he even asked her, when he knew how she felt about marriage? For twelve whole hours following a celebratory dinner (he’d just signed with an agent), the half-carat ring he’d presented her sparkled bluely on her hand, and he’d insisted on calling both of their families. His mother had cried and congratulated them and asked when the wedding would be. Even her father had gotten unexpectedly emotional. “You know,” he said, “your mother and I were engaged in New York.”

Of course Marianne knew. Wasn’t that what she’d been thinking of when Eric ambushed her in the restaurant?—the sort of place that Marianne’s mother would have loved, with its small rickety tables, mismatched chairs, candles flickering in glass jars. And Eric, he was someone her mother would have loved too: artistic but steady, handsome, a good conversationalist. Her father had said as much when he came up for Marianne’s graduate reading and they’d all gone to dinner: Your mother would have liked him.

Mom would want this for me, Marianne thought. And she’d nodded yes, teary-eyed, just like someone in the movies.

All night she lay awake, looking at the ring and thinking about her life with Eric. He wanted to move somewhere cheaper, he’d said on the way back to his apartment. Like Flushing? Marianne said. Or Long Island City?

No—he actually laughed at her—like North Carolina. Or Virginia. And then, his arm around her on the N train, he’d launched into all the other things he wanted: a yard, kids, good schools. Marianne felt her heart racing—good schools?—but she didn’t say much, just looked at the ring on her finger and thought about her mother, who’d wound up trying to interest untalented high schoolers in modern art while they sketched loving portraits of pickup trucks and deer antlers. By the next morning she had convinced herself that her mother would have wanted something different for her entirely.

Eric said he knew she didn’t really mean it when she said yes. Then why did you even ask me? Marianne wanted to know. They had a long argument about whether it would be possible for Eric to get his money back. Marianne thought if he just made the situation sad enough, the jeweler might feel sorry for him.

“That’s exactly what I want right now,” Eric said, holding his head in his hands at her kitchen table. “Thank you!”