“It’s not a ring,” I said and lifted one of his heavy hands and placed the box on his palm. “Open it.”
I couldn’t tell if this new facial expression was one of relief orwhy not. Beau clasped the box and manipulated it until the opening faced him. He gave me a disbelieving quizzical stare then looked down at the box. With purposeful movements, he flipped the lid open. His eyes narrowed again. “Is this a spool of thread?” he asked, confused.
In his puzzlement, I rose to a sitting position and took the ring and pre-readied thread from underneath my pillow. My anxiety caused my heart to race, and my voice to crack as I spoke. “I’m not sure I was ever given the option to love you. It was from our first meeting that I began planning our long lives together.”
My fingers trembled slightly as I added the loop at the end of my piece of thread onto Beau’s ring finger. “We’ve been through hard times. The complete destruction of ourselves and our families. Through it all, we stayed committed if only by a thread.” I grinned as I changed my prepared proposal spontaneously. “A text message thread.”
I let the heavy ring slide down the string to land on the tip of his finger.
“Will you marry me?” The tears that had stayed just under the surface spilled from my eyes. Not a flood, only a slip here or there.
“Baby, you know we can’t do that,” Beau whispered, his eyes riveted on the ring stuck right above the knuckle.
“I refuse to be excluded from anything straight people can have. We’ll have a commitment ceremony, and I’ll take care of…”
Beau’s brawny frame shifted, toppling me over as he extended his arm for a small sack on his nightstand. I hadn’t noticed it before. With flourish, he settled into a full sitting position, back against the headboard, a pillow crammed behind him. A small gift bag was presented to me.
Oh wow. I loved my guy. So much love, but where did my proposal land? I rifled through the crumpled tissue paper and matching ribbons that kept the treasure securely inside. Finally, I made it to the bottom and saw a ring box. My eyes shot up to Beau as I dropped the small gift into my palm. With seriously bated breath, I opened the lid. My bottom lip tucked between my teeth.
A ring, made in the same fashion as the bracelet from yesterday. “Is it from the same place? The wood comes from Sea Springs?”
“Yeah. You can wear it until we can get you something else,” Beau said. In my periphery, I caught him sliding on the ring I’d given him.
“We’re supposed to wait until our commitment ceremony to wear them,” I said, letting the weight and texture of the antique silver and smooth shaving of the oak tree caress across the pad of my thumb.
“We’re giving our pledge right now,” Beau said. He lifted a hand to cup my neck, drawing me forward for a sweet sampling of our lips. I loved the way he touched me, giving me meaning and depth. He filled my soul with joy and purpose. He moved away too soon, but only by inches, staying close to my face. “I pledge my life to you. Now say it back.”
“Are you sure you want to do it this way? We could dress up and exchange vows. Have a party…”
Beau literally laughed in my face. “With who there? My mom?”
“Good point. She might want to see what we’re doing,” I offered, trying to be forward thinking, but a bit of sweet sex might be a better idea.
“She’ll be fine. We’ll tell her before we leave this morning,” Beau said as I began to move closer to my nightstand.
Before I managed a single inch away, Beau’s strong palm landed on my thigh, locking me in place.
“What do you need?” Beau asked as he rolled on top of me, extending his hand to the nightstand. “In the drawer?” I was forced to lie underneath him as he opened the drawer and felt around. “You need this box?”
“Yes and get up. You’re making me into a taco,” I said, pushing at his chest until his back was against the headboard again, his palm extended for me to take the box. Sometimes, I had to remind myself how much I loved that bulldozer of a man. I swiped the box, tamped down my frustration, and opened the lid. It held a matching ring, a duplicate of Beau’s.
“I felt like this might go down this way,” I said, turning the box to him. After a month of shopping for wedding bands, thedesign of these rings, with a unique script pattern and beveled edges, had me buying both on the spot. I regretted it only because I loved the idea of Beau buying me the ring. “I bought one for me, but I’ll return it.”
“No,” Beau said, his calloused palm resting on my hand, covering my attempt to close the ring box. “Match mine. I don’t know how long the other ring will last.” As suddenly as he had placed his hand on mine, he did a fluid move of untangling from me and left the bed.
How hadn’t he figured out that he was my anchor, keeping me in place. I tumbled into his spot. Both rings fell from my grip.
“Don’t put the ring on. Let’s tell my mom and slide them on in front of her. Since we’re all we have, it’ll be done.”
I gathered myself, moving up on all fours, looking for what I lost. “They’re by my pillow,” Beau said, going for the closet. “And quit flirting with me. We’ll do that later.” I didn’t immediately understand until I realized I was positioned for doggy-style sex.
Beau seriously had a one-track mind—food then sexy time, or sex then a multi-course meal. I tumbled from the bed, not nearly as gracefully as Beau, and made a beeline for the closet. Beau was already slipping on some athletic shorts that hugged his muscular frame. I took credit for how well the shorts framed his strong legs. It took me forever to get him to agree to a shorter inseam, remaining oblivious to the eye-fucking I regularly did, admiring his hard body.
Suddenly, fabric hit my face. You’d think with as much staring as I was doing, a person would’ve seen my shorts flying at me. More importantly, since his mom had been here for over a month, I’d relaxed my appearance standards. Still, I couldn’t just go there willy-nilly. I needed a brush on my teeth and hair, and most likely a quick shave. I quickly changed direction, pivoting toward the bathroom.
“Don’t take too long,” Beau said, shoving his hair off his face. “I’m gonna get her up. Let her get her coffee. Put the rings in your pocket.”
I gave the wall separating us a critical stare. This was my proposal, and Mister Bossy needed to give me back the control. My mind had conjured a meaningful proposal, then anniversary sex, then planning an intimate, cozy ceremony, something special for the three of us.
