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I still had the other little package resting in my hand. Inside the red and green Santa paper was a box… a ring box.
My eyes shot up to look at him; he was smiling at me.
I looked down at the box, almost petrified to open it. Hundreds of thoughts ran through my mind all at once.
“Open it!” he encouraged.
It was hard to swallow. Is he doing this now? Is now the moment that he’s going to ask me? Holy shit. Before I open this box, what am I going to say? Am I going to say yes to his question? Yes! Of course I’m going to say yes! Why wouldn’t I? Look at him – so adorable, smiling at me like that. So caring and thoughtful. You have no idea how much I love you, Ryan Christensen. Yes! My answer is yes!
I carefully opened the lid to the white box. The hinge on the box was quite stiff; I had to use extra force to separate it. My eyes adjusted as I took in the sight of the ring nestled inside.
A slight gasp of air stuttered down my throat as my thoughts readjusted to a new response.
Inside was a beautiful silver ring with a huge oval garnet surrounded by an intricate Celtic knot on each side of the setting.
“It’s beautiful!” I sighed. “Thank you!” It matched the Celtic bracelet he gave me last night and the earrings and necklace I unwrapped this morning.
Ryan took the ring out of the box and held my right hand. “It’s sterling. I had it inscribed. It says ‘My heart is yours.’ ”
After he showed me the inscription, he slid the ring onto my right hand ring finger. It fit perfectly. My hand shook slightly.
“I said that the property is for our future, and I mean that. Even if it’s just to put a vacation home there. No decisions have to be made now. And when we’re both ready, I intend to put a few rings on this hand.” Ryan raised my fingers to his mouth and softly kissed my left hand.
In a blur, the ten days Ryan had off had dwindled down to three. We spent two days in Pittsburgh with his family and almost an entire day was spent just flying back and forth. It was slightly easier to move through the airports if people didn’t expect him to be there, but we were still stopped by a few fans that spotted him.
All I knew was that the precious moments I had with Ryan were quickly ticking away.
New Year’s Eve had arrived and my pub was packed. A few die-hard fans traveled to the little town of Seaport after it was published in the media that Ryan was spending the holidays in his little secret love nest in Rhode Island.
Ryan had hired Mike to be his personal guard full-time and I felt better knowing that Mike was in the bar with Ryan for our evening celebration.
Cory’s friend Trevor was tending the door and my friends were providing an extra buffer around Ryan, just in case.
The band on stage was jamming and Marie, Cory, and I were hustling behind the bar. I looked over at Ryan and smiled. He was sitting in his spot at the bar wearing my Mitchell’s Pub cap; Mike sat on one side, Pete on the other, Gary was sitting next to Pete. The guys were drinking and talking and just having a great time.
I was so happy to see Ryan relaxed and I grinned whenever he laughed hysterically at their conversations. I was grateful to the crowd too; for the most part his fans just admired him from afar. A few women managed to sneak in to talk to him, but he didn’t seem to mind the conversation. The minute a girl stepped up to him, the other three guys intervened. Needless to say, no woman was able to hang around Ryan for very long.
I had just grabbed two bottles of beer out of the cooler, only to look up and see Kyle standing on the other side of the bar. I gasped, slightly startled that he was here.
“Can I get one of those, miss?” he asked, nodding at the bottles in my hand.
“Sure, I’ll be right with you,” I unconsciously responded with a smile, tending to my current customer. I looked over at Ryan knowing he was going to be pissed that Kyle was here. Ryan was laughing heartily until he noticed my expression. His unspoken words of concern instantly turned to anger when he eyed Kyle on the opposite end of the bar. Ryan stiffened in his chair and stared Kyle down.
I slid a bottle over to Kyle, who had wedged his body conveniently between two ladies to get to the bar.
“I see pretty boy is happy to see me,” Kyle sneered, taking a long swig of his beer.
“Don’t start, Kyle,” I warned and quickly hurried out from behind the bar.
“Come here please.” I drug him by the sleeve of his leather jacket to speak to him privately. “I want to know, right now, if you have any weapons on you,” I asked, knowing that he had a permit to carry concealed firearms.
He took another swig of his beer and patted the space under his right arm. “I never leave home without it!” he stated proudly.
