For 7 Days, Seven Stories...Day 1...

Eric Prince, who wasn't either royalty or really related to the scary mercenary whose name he shared, but who was a rookie Master-of-The Universe in training, adjusted his expensive coat against the Northern California winter chill, and checked that the jewelry box with his wife's gold earrings rested in the pocket.Nobody in the office would quite believe how boyishly excited he was at the thought of presenting those delicate golden knots.

(Outside of with his clients, Eric did struggle to keep a secret, but even more than his own excitement, he had felt something coming like a plastic barrier between himself and his wife.

Tamara smelled, even more than usual, of the blend of her favorite perfume(he thought it was Opium. Something spicy, anyway, and the chlorine from her long swims at the health club. "Swimming again?" he joked. "remember me when you get into the Olympics."
"What about them?" she asked. (Tamara was smart and perceptive, but there was something almost foreign about her sometimes. Which seemed to argue for Olympic jokes to be better material, but she was far enough out of his league, even as a short Clark Kent, that he didn't ask many questions.)
"I know we agreed to draw names this year," he said with endearing boyish excitement, " but I couldn't resist."
Tamara, who might have expected to be far away by Christmas, and still had bits of a torn-up "Dear John" in her tiny purse, was quieter and more touched as she opened the box.
"Oh, Eric, they're beautiful. It's all so beautiful."