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It’s a wide band, brushed silver so it doesn’t shine so much as glow softly. The surface has a hammered texture that catches the light in small, uneven ways, like the top of a lake when the wind ripples across it. Around the middle of the band, there’s a single thin line of black inlay running the whole circumference. It’s simple and solid, just like us. Two men who fell in love in the small moments behind the scenes.

“Fox, wow…”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“I went back the next morning. I told the guys I was going for a coffee and bought it before we flew back.”

I lift the ring out of the box with fingers that are absolutely not steady. He takes it out of my hand.

“May I?”

“Yeah.”

He slides it onto my ring finger.

I gasp. “It fits.”

“That’s pure luck. The lady in the store said that if it didn’t fit, I could take it back to resize. I thought if that was the case we could go together for a few days. Like a vacation.”

I hold my hand up and look at it in the low morning light. The hammered surface catches the blue-white glow from the window and the black line disappears into shadow and then back into light as I turn my hand.

I’ve never worn a ring before.

Now I have this.

“Foster.”

I turn around in his arms so I’m facing him. My knees are on either side of his hips. I put my hands on his face, and he puts his on my waist.

“I love it. I love you. I love this. I love that you did this. I love that it’s a promise ring today, and I love that one day it’s going to be my wedding ring. And I’ve said this a million times, but I’ll say it again. I love you, Fox.”

“I love you, Griffin.”

I kiss him again for a long time because he’s mine and I can. His hand finds mine on his cheek and he laces our fingers together, and I feel the ring press between our palms.

When I pull back, Fox’s thumb brushes the edge of the ring on my finger.

“Finn, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. New York, London, Paris, Rome. The Caribbean. Anywhere.”

I laugh.

“I mean it. We’ve earned it, baby. Ten years of stolen weekends and hotel rooms with the curtains drawn. I want to take you somewhere and hold your hand at breakfast. I want to book a hotel under both our names.”

“Oh my god, Fox.”

“I want to walk down a street with you and not have to check who’s looking.”

My throat is tight again.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”