Talk to me, Harry Winston, --the future Mrs. Bristow

June 15, 2012
7:30 p.m.

It hadn't been difficult at all to convince the proprietor of Jensen's Jewelers to close for an hour in the evening so that Nicholas and his future wife could have a little bit of private browsing time; perhaps that had something to do with the five rings that Nicholas had picked out to be set out on a deep blue, velveteen display for Rebecca to choose from. He had no doubt that she'd like one of them, or perhaps all; but as the message he'd left her had mentioned, he wanted her to enjoy the ring that would serve for both their engagement and wedding. After all, if she enjoyed it, she'd wear it more, and the perfect ring on the hand of the perfect wife would be visible to more people.

He was certain of the fact that she must be perfect; otherwise, why would the Vow have matched the two of them? Sure, he'd had to... carefully word a few of his requests, because he was fairly certain that outright comparing his ideal woman to June Cleaver with the beauty of Miss Universe and the body of Marilyn Monroe wouldn't have gone over too well with the bitch who'd interviewed him for the application. Still, his tastes had been made, he felt, pretty clear. He would only have the best.

He waited just inside the glass doors to Jensen's Jewelers, fiddling briefly with the wrist of one of his suit jacket's sleeves before checking his already perfectly groomed facial hair in the reflection of the mirror. He'd opted to go for classy but not too businessy, with one of his slightly older suits, a blue shirt that suited his complexion well, and no tie. Not that there was really a dress code for meeting one's arranged marriage partner, as far as Nicholas knew, but still--he wanted to make a good impression, right? This woman was going to be perfect, so he would be perfect for her.

He took a deep breath as he spotted a woman headed towards the door of Jensen's Jewelers; he felt no nerves, just... anticipation. Yes. Finally. She was going to be what he'd been looking for his whole life, what he'd tried so hard to make Harper into for her future husband (and now, the meager results of those efforts were to be wasted on some Midwest redneck. Pfah!). He opened the door just as she stepped up, giving her a small, serious smile. "Rebecca?" he said in greeting.

The week was finally over. A week filled with getting her purse stolen, getting lost, and being stuck in an elevator for hours ended on a high note. When Rebecca received the call telling her she had been matched, she couldn’t hold her excitement in. What seemed like forever had only been a mere six days. Nicholas Bristow. Though she said she wouldn’t, Rebecca couldn’t contain herself and told Jay about him. Yes, he’d probably do a background check, but didn’t The Vow already do so? Besides, Jay knew that Rebecca didn’t want to know anything. Rebecca wanted to learn about Nicholas all on her own, with only the information The Vow had given her. It was how things were supposed to be. Though, the age difference was a big one. But… age was only a number. And it didn’t mean anything to Rebecca, really. The company knew what they were doing, and she trusted them completely.

What was she supposed to wear to meet the man she was engaged to? Rebecca was nervous about giving a bad impression, and she didn’t want to dress up too much. But what if Nicholas dressed up and she came undressed? Rebecca didn’t want to embarrass him or herself. When the woman finally did pick out an outfit, Rebecca drove and parked near the jewelry store Nicholas wanted to her meet him, and walked up to it.

Meeting Nicholas wasn’t what was making Rebecca nervous. Ever since she learned his age, Rebecca was worried about how… experienced he was when it came to women. Rebecca had only ever kissed one boy before, and that was in her freshman year of college. She was worried that maybe he was looking for someone with more experience than Rebecca. But with bad feelings, came good ones. She was really excited to meet this man.

The door opened for her. Rebecca turned and looked up at the man, a smile lighting up her face. ”Hello,” He was very handsome. And tall. And handsome. And more importantly, he looked like a nice guy. She wouldn’t know that until they talked some, but that was the vibe she was getting (he did hold the door open for her). To avoid any confusion that could happen, Rebecca wanted to ask, just to make sure this was Nicholas and not someone who worked in the store. ”And you must be Nicholas” Her smile grew, ”It’s so nice to meet you.” That phase had been eroded down to be a generic, and go-to, but she meant it genuinely and it showed in her voice. Rebecca moved into the room so Nicholas could close the door and tore her eyes from him to glance around.

Her eyes landed on a table with a bottle, which she assumed was wine or champagne. Wow. Rebecca hadn’t expected this. ”Did you set all of this up? It looks beautiful.”

At first glance, Nicholas couldn't help but be pleased. His blushing bride (or not blushing, as the case may be, though he found a sense of modesty incredibly appealing in women -- priceless, really) was rather lovely. Maybe not an exotic beauty, or even model material; if he was being perfectly honest (as he almost always was), her looks were relatively... normal. Pedestrian. But in a pretty way, nonetheless, and there was a certain pleasing, charming, naive genuineness to the way she greeted him. The responding smile on Nicholas' face was, in fact, genuine as well.

"I am, yes," he agreed, his tone modulated by the smile. He watched her closely, absorbing her every motion, every expression as she stepped into the store and towards the little set-up he'd thrown together. It wasn't much; a little table with a plain but richly-colored tablecloth thrown over it, a bottle of champagne chilling in ice with a couple empty champagne flutes standing at the ready, and one or two little dessert treats that he'd liberated from a Whole Foods in Indianapolis that afternoon, just in case she wanted something sweet.

"It was nothing," he said, brushing off her compliment, though he was secretly pleased by it. Good; she was the kind of woman who noticed effort and who appreciated it properly. The whole feminist notion of women deserving to be romanced just by virtue of being women pissed Nicholas off; it was refreshing to see a female who was so pleased by the extra effort, instead of taking it for granted. "A beautiful evening for a beautiful woman," he added, his voice softening a little, almost to a purr. "I wanted you to be able to pick the ring you like best. I know we aren't going to have a... well... traditional courtship, so I thought I could at least do this for you."

While Rebecca was obviously incredibly touched by the gesture-- Nicholas was quite thoughtful in arranging for her to pick a ring she liked or to even give her a ring at all-- she didn’t actually care that much about jewelry. She was much more interested in Nicholas so she didn’t immediately jump to examine the rings. That just wasn’t her style. Instead, she was thinking that she’d clearly lucked out with her match because Nicholas was clearly a very thoughtful gentleman.
She blushed slightly at his comment because she actually wasn’t called beautiful very often. Cute maybe but not beautiful. Maybe this wasn’t a traditional courtship, but Nicholas still managed to make it feel like a courtship and not a contract.

Rebecca looked over his setup once more. She wondered when would be a good time for her to tell him that she didn’t drink. She didn’t want to embarrass him and it wasn’t as if she minded if he drank a glass of champagne himself. Rebecca also didn’t want to come across as rude or ungrateful. And on the subject of things to tell him, she wasn’t exactly jumping to tell him about her heart problem either. For one thing, it was completely unromantic and for another she was terrified it would be a deal breaker. Of the two, she’d rather tell him about the alcohol, but maybe not just yet. She could certainly eat the snacks he brought.

”Shall we talk first or would you like me to look at the rings?” Rebecca asked. It was sort of like when someone gave you a wrapped present. She never quite knew if they’d prefer if she opened it right there or wait until they were gone. Rebecca didn’t expect him to leave but it was the same sort of situation.

Oh, she was a blusher. Nicholas liked that; it was a sign of modesty, of femininity, and it appealed to him more than just a little. He smiled at her, noting the paleness of her skin. He liked that, too -- he'd always thought that the more traditional notions of beauty, with creamy pale complexions and soft curves, were more appealing than the spray tanned so-called beauties with bodies like nine-year-old boys who were so in fashion today. He'd always gone out of his way to emphasize to his little sister that she should look like a woman, not like a whore or a man; he'd see how much of that advice she was taking now that she was out from under his watchful eye.

Now wasn't the time to be thinking about Harper, though; now he needed to consider the woman before him, and their future together. Rebecca Whitt. Soon to be Mrs. Rebecca Bristow. The name had a certain ring to it; he was glad for that. He smiled at her as she asked what what they should do next, feeling a little swelling of affection. She was even naturally letting him take the lead, as she should -- oh, yes, the Vow had chosen perfectly. One of his hands dropped to her back, resting gently there, and guiding her towards both the display cases and the little table.

"We could do both," he suggested. "Get to know one another while you browse. I have to admit, this is the closest thing to a blind date that I've been on since I was in high school... I haven't dated much at all in the last decade or so, to be honest. Oh -- are you thirsty or hungry?" he asked, indicating the table with a glance. "Forgive my manners. Nerves." He gave her a charming smile.

Knowing that Nicholas was only recently getting back into dating comforted Rebecca. At least they would both go through this together. He must be a busy man—Rebecca didn’t like to jump to conclusions usually, but what else could be the reason for his lack of a wife already? He was handsome and charming. Rebecca honestly thought Nicholas was a bit out of her league. She never had one “dream man,” to say, but Nicholas went way past anything Rebecca ever imagined she’d end up with. This was a good thing. Rebecca was sure it was a good thing.

”I guess that makes two of us.” Well, it was better than letting him think that she was awful at dating. ”This is the closest thing I’ve had to a real date since ever.” She confessed, with a nervous laugh. She was just… shy when it came to things like this. And all the boys she met over the years who showed an interest in her just weren’t what she was looking for. It’s why she thought the Vow would be better. That they could find her someone who she would be comfortable with.

Rebecca was about to respond to his question about food—cause she could probably stuff her face out of nervousness right about now—but she was distracted by the gorgeous display of rings. ”Wow,” she whispered to herself and her hand barely grazed over one of them. All of them were so… extravagant. One caught her eye immediately though--the simplest ring in the display. A slim, silver, hammered band, with a single diamond. She wasn’t one for showy jewelry, but this ring, even Jay would admit was her. Rebecca thought it would be rude to go straight for the ring, though and brought her attention back up to Nicholas. ”I’d love something to eat,” She told him, glad he didn’t just hand her a drink.

”So do you have family?” Of course he had family, he had to have a mother and father and that, but siblings and whatnot, is what she was going for. She may have sounded like an idiot—something she normally didn’t care about. But this was a man she would be spending the rest of her life with. She wanted to have a good first impression—those stuck forever.

Nicholas was far from upset to learn that Rebecca wasn't big on dating; he liked that she kept herself modest and innocent, to be honest. It was an appealing trait in his future wife. "Nothing wrong with that," he said mildly, smiling down at her. It was a hell of a lot more appealing than what he could have been given, anyway -- a woman who'd whored herself out to handfuls of men, a woman who showed no evidence of self respect or class. Luckily, Rebecca seemed to be exactly what he'd been hoping for -- and the antithesis of those aforementioned qualities.

He couldn't help but lift his chin a quarter of an inch with pleasure at her reaction to the rings, too. She showed good taste, excellent taste -- taste that matched his own. Perfect. Every moment that passed, he spent weighing her in his mind, and much to Rebecca's credit, she passed each little test with flying colors. It was safe to say that Nicholas Bristow was very satisfied with purchasing the Vow's services, at the moment. "Help yourself. It's nothing fancy, but I thought... well, why not?" He'd picked out a couple of little fruit tarts, the sliced berries and kiwi and melon bits on top glazed and looking as bright as jewels, as well as some small chocolate cake slices. "There are hazelnuts in the chocolate... you're not allergic, are you?" he asked. It would be a good thing to know; after all, there was some evidence, wasn't there, that allergies were genetic? He'd want to know what she might pass down to their future children.

The subject turned to family, as it had been bound to; luckily, Nicholas had prepared for this conversation. Though once could say, perhaps, that every day of his life, as he carefully reined in his darker impulses and passed for just another Joe Everyman, was preparation for his lies. His smile turned a little wistful, and he brushed a finger over one of the rings. "My parents died about ten years ago. I have a sister, though, much younger than me... I raised her, really. We've had... a difficult relationship. She took our parents' deaths hard, and acted out a lot. We're, ah... not actually speaking, at the moment. Or rather, she's not speaking to me. I'm hoping that'll change soon, though." His dark eyes settled on Rebecca's face, the expression in them solemn. "I'm sorry for just--coming out and saying it like that. I just thought that, well... if you're going to be family, you should know everything. No secrets."

The words came out without so much as a twitch to hint at the lie; no secrets meant, in Nicholas's head, no secrets kept from him, not no secrets on his own part. That it was understood was something that he took for granted.