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She bites her lip. "Maybe we should go through a drive-through."
"Flashy."
She holds up her left hand. "This is flashy." She stares at the ring. "Can you really afford this?"
"First doubting my fame, now this. That's cold, Bella. That's fucking cold."
She raises a brow. "Can you?"
Jewelry is never a smart financial decision, but I'm not going to skimp on my wife's engagement ring. "Yes."
"Sorry, I guess I'm—"
"Nosy."
"A little. It comes with the territory with…" Her eyes go back to her shoes as she trails off. "Let's not talk about that."
I nod.
She reaches down to unzip her boots. "You mind?"
"Depends on how many articles of clothing you're going to remove."
She smiles. "You're trouble."
"You just figuring that out?"
"No." Bella peels off her boots and sits on the bench cross-legged. She turns to me. "You were looking at your phone."
"Warning my friend Kit… he's planning a Christmas proposal. I don't want to steal his thunder."
"Kit." Her eyes light up with recognition. "Oh, Christopher Lockhart. The bassist." Her expression gets sheepish. "I feel like a stalker, knowing all that."
"I don't mind."
She presses her cell phone into the bench seat. "Did you tell anyone besides your friend Christopher? Kit, I guess?"
"No. But they'll find out."
"My dad… he would think you're trouble. A bad boy phase. A quarter-life crisis."
"Who says I'm not trouble?"
She laughs. "You have tattoos, sure. But you… You're a sweet guy. Deep down."
"How do you know?"
"I remember that. I can't remember a lot of what happened last night, but I still feel this connection. It's stupid."
"It's not."
She presses her lips together. "Joel, um… don't take this the wrong way, but why did you sleep with me?"
"You fishing for more compliments about your tits? I'm happy to oblige if you are, but I demand another look at them first."
Her blush deepens. "No, I mean… we were drinking a lot."
"I tried to turn you down."
