Damsel Under Stress by Shanna Swendson

but then there was always the chance she’d pop back into my life at the most inconvenient time to make up for our missed meeting.
    I soon realized she was leading me toward Owen’s house. She wouldn’t, would she? I made up my mind to refuse to go if that was her plan. I didn’t want him thinking I was so insecure about him that I’d resorted to consulting a fairy godmother.
    Fortunately, she came to a stop in front of a neighborhood tavern around the corner from Owen’s house. There was a chance that he’d be there eating dinner, but I suspected if he’d planned to eat out, he would have invited me to join him on our way home from work.
    Ethelinda breezed right in and commandeered a table. The waiters didn’t even blink, so I suspected magic was involved. Soon after we sat down, steak dinners appeared in front of us. I supposed that took care of the “who pays?” issue.
    “Now, let’s talk about this holiday with his family.”
    Before I could open my mouth to say anything, I noticed that her attention had strayed. I turned my head to see what she was staring at and saw a thirtysomething couple sitting at a nearby table. They’d finished their meals and were drinking coffee, apparently waiting for dessert. I didn’t see anything about them that might have drawn a fairy godmother’s attention. They weren’t fighting, and they certainly didn’t look awkward. They had an old-married-couple comfort level about them.
    “Tsk, tsk. What a pity,” Ethelinda said.
    I turned back to her. “What’s a pity?”
    “They’ve been together so long, but something is missing. They need a boost to get them going in the right direction.” She beamed suddenly. “And I know just the thing.”
    A waiter walked by us, carrying a tray with two desserts on it. As he passed, Ethelinda waved her wand. I turned my head to watch the waiter set the desserts on the table. A second or two later, the woman squealed in surprise—a happy squeal.
    “Oh Mike! I love it! I thought you’d never…Yes, definitely yes!” She took a diamond ring from her dessert plate and slipped it onto her ring finger, then held her hand up to admire it as tears of joy streamed down her face.
    A little choked up myself, I turned back to Ethelinda. “I take it that was your doing?”
    She looked smug. “It’s very simple, really.” For a moment, I halfway expected her to launch into some “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo” type song about how fairy godmothers work, but before she could explain how simple affecting the course of true love was, there was a commotion from the engagement table.
    “Where did you get that?” the man’s voice asked.
    I turned just enough to watch without looking like I was staring. The rest of the restaurant was also looking, and most of them weren’t even pretending to mind their own business. So much for New Yorkers being too jaded to stare. If there was enough potential juice involved, they were as likely as anyone else to take a gander.
    “It was on my dessert plate,” the woman replied, her voice trembling. “You mean—you mean you didn’t set this up to have it put there?”
    “Why would I? I thought I told you how I felt about marriage. I’m not looking for that kind of commitment. Are you trying to trap me into something?”
    “Mike, we’ve been living together for ten years. That seems pretty committed to me. What difference would a ring, a ceremony, and a piece of paper make?”
    “Exactly my point.”
    “It would make me happy. It would make me feel secure. That’s the difference it would make for me. But I guess making me happy would be too much effort. I wouldn’t want to pin you down.” She stood and pulled the ring off, moved as if she was about to throw it at him, then thought better of it and put it in her pocket before she grabbed her purse and coat. “I want you out of my apartment before I get home from work tomorrow.”
    Cringing, I turned back to Ethelinda, who was blissfully eating her