Chapter 1 - The Man in White
I want to tell you about the night my engagement dinner turned into the worst hour of my life.
It was a Thursday in late September, golden hour, and I had taken Camille to Aurelia, a rooftop place on the fifty-second floor with floor-to-ceiling windows and the whole Manhattan skyline laid out behind her like a painting.
She was wearing a red dress I'd bought her two weeks earlier, and her hair was down the way I liked it.
I remember leaning in and saying, "Damn, baby, you look absolutely gorgeous tonight.
I swear, nobody could ever replace you."
She smiled and put her hand flat against my chest.
"You better mean that, handsome.
I'm not putting up with any more bullshit."
I laughed, because I thought she was joking.
Our waiter came over with a silver tray.
Tall kid, maybe late twenties, all-white uniform, white tie, white cap.
He set the plates down without a word and stepped back with his hands behind him.
I was in a good mood, and I'll be honest with you, I was showing off a little.
I pulled a stack of bills out of my jacket, peeled off a few, and laid them on the tablecloth next to his hand.
"Here you go, buddy.
Keep the change.
Don't say I never did anything nice for your ass."
Camille leaned forward and grinned at me.
"Oh my God, look at you showing off!
You really think throwing cash around makes you a big shot, huh?"
I leaned back in the booth feeling like a king.
Then I looked up at the waiter, and something was wrong with his face.
He hadn't moved.
He was just standing there with the tray at his waist, staring at us.
His jaw was tight.
His lips were pressed together so hard they'd gone white.
Camille noticed it too.
Her smile dropped off her face like someone had flipped a switch.
"What the hell is your problem?
Why are you staring at us like that?"
He didn't answer right away.
His eyes got red and wet, and I watched a tear break loose and run down his cheek.
He didn't wipe it.
He just let it sit there.
"You really don't recognize me?" he said.
"That's some cold-hearted, fucked-up shit right there."
I put my glass down.
"After everything that happened, you're just gonna sit there and act like I'm some goddamn stranger?!"
His voice cracked on the last word, and I felt the whole room tilt.
"Hold the fuck up," I said.
"What the hell are you talking about?
Who are you supposed to be?"
He just looked at me.
Then at Camille.
Then back at me.
"Quit playing these shady-ass games and tell me what the hell is going on!"
I was on my feet by then, and I still had no idea what I was looking at.
I'd never seen this kid before in my life.
I would have bet my apartment on it.
That's when I saw the hand.
It came in from the left side of the table, low, near the crystal glass.
A man's hand, and on the ring finger there was a plain gold wedding band.
The fingers opened, and a small silver ring with a clear stone dropped out of them and landed on the white tablecloth without a sound.
Then the hand was gone.
I turned to look, but there was nobody standing there.
Just the edge of the booth and the window and the city glowing orange behind it.
I looked back at Camille.
She was the color of the tablecloth.
Her eyes were fixed on that little silver ring like it was a snake.
"Camille," I said.
"What is that?"
She didn't answer me.
She picked up her purse with both hands, and her hands were shaking.
"Not here," she whispered.
Then she stood up and walked out of the restaurant, past the hostess stand, past the bar, and through the doors to the elevator lobby.
I stood there like an idiot with my napkin still in my hand.
The waiter was still crying.
He hadn't moved an inch.
I looked down at the ring on the tablecloth, and I remember thinking that I had walked into that restaurant an engaged man, and I was about to walk out of it with no idea who I was engaged to.
