Even drenched in the warmth of the evening sunset, Sydney felt a chill. The wind was whipping off the water and settled beneath her cardigan. Holding her glass in one hand, she swiped the crocheted blanket from the back of the worn couch and draped it around her shoulders.

“Fuck,” she muttered as the Chardonnay splashed over the rim onto her skirt.

Why didn’t her mother put a table out here? She dabbed her skirt with the lower corner of the blanket. Better the old blanket than her designer skirt.

Sighing, she looked out over the spray of cotton candy pink and creamsicle orange that had splashed in a sensational sunset over the Puget Sound. The chattering of birds melded with the sounds of her mother tittering in the kitchen, and Brian’s low tenor in answer.

Brian. She swigged her Chardonnay and swirled it lazily, staring into the liquid sunshine like it could give her answers. As if the golden liquid could solve Brian for her.

Brian, who she had dated for 5 years.

Brian, who had first visited the lakehouse when they were doe-eyed and newly minted.

Brian, who her parents orbited around like he was a saint to be followed.

Brian, who’s gingerbread eyes had captured her breath at the dicey, Christmas themed karaoke bar when he slid her ale across the counter with a wink.

Brian, who casually referred to them as “we”.

Brian, who she no longer loved.

Cotton candy faded into periwinkle blue as Sydney stared out over the calm water. Fingering the velvet box tucked into her cardigans pocket, she loosed a breath.

She didn’t mean to find the diamond! She really, really, didn’t.

Fresh off her morning run, Sydney had peeled off her sports bra and felt a sting on her shoulder. Turning in front of the round mirror that reflected back the evergreens that surrounded the lakehouse, she spotted the angry red bump and cursed herself silently for foregoing the bug spray.

Sydney lugged herself downstairs and inhaled deep as the scent of fresh roasted coffee and cinnamon buns wafted from the kitchen.

“Are you ready for my famous buns?” Her father had asked with a twinkle in his eye. He was standing guard at the oven, as if any sudden movement would make the rolls grow legs and run off.

“You know that joke actually does get old,” Syd said, but kissed him on the cheek.

“I got stung or bitten or otherwise hunted,” she complained, turning to show him.

“That’s a honker!” Her father proclaimed as she saddled up to the island next to her mother, who was still sporting her fluffy blue terry robe.

Her mother had sipped her coffee, eyeing Syd over the mug.

“Even before dawn, the bugs around the water are out with a vengeance, and you damn well know that,” her mother chided lovingly. “But we have some good lotion in the guest room bathroom for our less nature inclined guests,” she patted Syd’s arm, trying to keep the smile off her face.

“Oh and I suppose I am less nature inclined because I chose to live in a city, is that right?” Syd replied as she dragged her mother’s mug towards her.

Swatting her hand away, and returning the mug to her lips, her mother held her eye contact and didn’t deign a response. Evelyn Case only dispensed teasing, she was never the receiver.

Standing with a sigh, Syd made her way up the wooden staircase of the lakehouse back to the bathroom. She rifled through the medicine cabinet but didn’t see any creams, just pill containers and an old toothpaste.

Under the sink she found a worn leather toiletry bag. Hauling it onto the tiled sink counter, Syd unzipped it. In between an electric toothbrush and single blade razor, the velvet box stared up at her.

As if it was just part of an assortment of normal men’s grooming items, just nestled there.

She promptly zipped it back up.

And then unzipped it.

She knew those single blade razors. Syd delicately removed the box from the toiletry bag and sank down. She sat with her back to the vanity and turned the soft, black velvet in her hands. It was none of her business.

Except it was.

She hadn’t hinted to Brian that she was expecting a ring. She hadn’t hinted that she was thoroughly not in love with him anymore, either.

In a daze she tucked it into her pocket. And now she sat, with her Chardonnay that was most certainly not giving her answers, and her engagement ring in her cardigan pocket.

“Fuck,” she murmured again.