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Or hmm, maybe he wouldn’t get a personal one. He hadn’t the last time, but every show was different. Perhaps the band would have to share. Pass that sucker around until the embossed lettering grew dull. He’d need to clear a shelf in his and West’s place. At least for now. Lo was there all the time, and third wheels were never fun.
Then again, if Denver wanted to move in with him…
He stopped walking and studied the heavy platinum letters on the glass door in front of him.
Stefano’s Jewelers. For that special moment.
Swallowing hard, he pulled open the door and stepped inside. He was instantly swarmed by two lovely blonds.
“Sir, how may we help you today?”
He blinked, already dazzled by the crystal chandeliers and extremely expensive-looking rugs. For a kid from a modest middle-class home, he still wasn’t used to all…this. He wasn’t even supposed to be in there.
What was he doing?
“I’d like to see rings.” Hearing the words made him clear his throat.
He must’ve gone nuts. Was it the rarefied air in this place? He walked in and suddenly he could see his future, encompassed in a sturdy gold band and a blingy stone. But not too blingy. Den would never go for that.
Hell, he should’ve brought her along. She’d want to pick. He didn’t have the taste for this sort of thing.
One of the blonds smiled brightly. “We have rings. Plenty of them. What are you looking for, precisely? Do you have a preferred gemstone? Is this an engagement ring or other?”
The second blond flanked his other side, ushering him toward the miles of glass-topped counter with muted swatches of velvet fabric inside to cushion all the jewels. So fucking many. He was either going to get a migraine or end up buying a ring he couldn’t afford by the time he walked out of this joint.
“I’d like an engagement ring.” He’d started to say promise ring, but that didn’t feel right either. It didn’t make sense to go halfway when he was ready to go all the way home. She probably wasn’t, and that was just fine. He’d buy the ring, and he’d bide his time.
They had all of it they’d ever need. But he just wanted to have it. Just as he’d purchased toys to use with her right after they’d fought at The Velvet Vault sex shop, this felt like an act of hope. Better, an act of strength. If he bought this ring, there was no going back for either of them. He wouldn’t chicken out and back down just because he was concerned she wasn’t feeling the same way he was. Or her timetable was completely different.
Because he was beginning to think they were synced there too. If she saw he wasn’t concerned about taking a big step, maybe she wouldn’t be either.
And if he was wrong…well, maybe he could sell the rock to West cheap to give to Lo. Which probably was super wrong on a hundred levels, but Lo wouldn’t care. She was the coolest chick he’d ever met, other than Den.
So he was buying a fucking ring. The best fucking ring he couldn’t afford.
The blonds were still talking, blathering on about sizes and cuts and gem weights. He didn’t care about any of that. He scanned the rings they selected for him, trying to goad him into making some sort of specific request, and none of them were right.
They were too ostentatious. Too nondescript. Too bland. He didn’t know how a ring that cost—one of the blonds named a figure—a fucking lot could be bland, but it was.
“This is an entry-level ring,” the blond added, and he gripped the counter for support.
Never mind what it costs. You can’t put a price on love.
Perhaps not, but he could put a price on his sanity. And their future. If they wanted to have enough money to someday get their own place, maybe even a house with a couple extra bedrooms—
Okay, he was officially going way too far. They hadn’t even said they loved each other yet. But he knew.
He fucking knew.
She was his future wrapped up in a big shiny bow. He migh
t not have realized how much he wanted that particular happy ending, but now that it was within reach, he couldn’t stop imagining what it might look like.
They’d have a dog. Big and golden with a huge lolling tongue. And they’d have kids. At least two. Three? No, two. A boy and a girl would be cool, but he wasn’t fussy on varieties. He just wanted a family he could call his own.
His woman, his kids, his dog, his life.
“She’d like an emerald cut,” he said, and he didn’t know how he knew that either. But reacting from instinct had become his goddamn job. “Not a diamond though.”
