So Where the Hell is my Ring?

Part 1 of this story is ~Here~

I had just carelessly tossed what I thought was something disgusting, only to be told it contained a diamond ring.  For me.

The moonlight, which had seemed so romantic only a moment before, now seemed ridiculously inadequate for combing miles of beach for something small and, well, sand covered.

To his credit, Jeremy only let me search for a minute or five two before telling me he was kidding about the ring.  Long enough for him to have a good chuckle, but not long enough for me to lose my fracking mind.

I begged him to promise me he wasn’t just saying that to make me feel better, but I couldn’t be sure.

Especially when, at breakfast the following morning, our friend told us he’d heard of someone finding a diamond ring on the beach with one of those treasure-finding metal detectors.

“It’s too bad you never even got to see it,” Jeremy said solemnly before winking at me and assuring me, again, that they were just kidding.

With each passing day, I thought more about that gooshy ball, trying to remember whether or not I’d felt something hard inside of it.  If Jeremy had the ring, he wouldn’t continue to make me wait, would he? 

Finally, after a few more moonlit strolls along the beach, Jeremy got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife.  He claims he said more than that, but I couldn’t tell you for sure. 

I was too busy looking at my beautiful, hand-engraved engagement ring.

I’m fairly certain that if I had thrown it away, he would have given me one made out of seaweed.