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The amount of pain in her teary eyes makes my heart sink. She grew up thinking she wasn’t enough. I would need to do a lot more if I ever plan to erase the disgusting beauty standards her mother and her past boyfriends have put in her head.
“Okay, baby,” I say, lifting her up from the ground. “If you want, we could work on that together.”
I want to help you. Let me help you.
“I would love that,” she croaks, sitting down on a beat up bench.
I sit down next to her, letting her head rest on my shoulder. I feel like shit for letting this happen. I feel like shit for not pulling her out of that dude’s way on time. If I did, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. He knocked into her pretty hard and ran away without even looking back.
Taking the phone out of my pocket, I call a cab. No way in hell are we going to walk back to my place. I would gladly carry her there, or anywhere else in this whole wide world, but I need her to be in the safety of my apartment as soon as possible.
A car honks at us not even five minutes later. I take Ronan’s hand and lead her to the car. Opening the door for her, I stuff her in and sit right next to her.
As soon as the driver starts the car, her face presses onto my chest and I hear her tiny snores. I hug her tightly as the driver looks at us in his rear view mirror.
***
I look at her, sleeping on her side, hair split all over the pillows. She stirs, and twists, and turns, but not once does she open her eyes. She is dreaming.
A memory flashes through my head, me and Matilda talking about girls the day she came out to me. The woman I had daydreamed about, since I knew what a woman was, is laying in my bed. My sheets smell like her. She calls out my name when she comes. I’ve done it.
Instead of waking her up, I go back to the living room and open up my trusty, old laptop. My idea might be a little unhinged, and I know not much time has passed, but I knew it was her since the moment our eyes connected in the dark of that club.
I overheard some customers talking about some ring maker a few towns over, and at that moment I knew what I wanted and what I needed to do. It might not happen soon, but I want to spend the rest of my life with Ronan. I open up the web page and look through the rings available. They are all gorgeous, but nothing speaksRonanto me. It has to be perfect.
At the end of the album, there is a tiny square that says ‘We also make custom rings. Call us and place your order’. My heart hammers in my chest as I copy their phone number onto my phone. I dial the number and quickly run to close the bedroom door.
“Oh, Marley, shut up, I am picking up the phone!” someone shouts on the other end of the line. “Hello,Gems and Bandshere, how can I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Noah. I would like to place an order for a custom made ring,” I say politely. I think the man on the other side is around my dad’s age, or even older. His voice sounds wise.
“Okay. What do you have in mind? And just to be clear, it won’t be ready ‘till next April. I have way too many orders and I make them all by myself.”
“Sure, sir. That works for me.” I nod my head as if he can see me.
“Okay, boy. Lay it on me.”
“I was thinking about a black band. A black-gold ring, I saw you make those.” I tell him and he hums in response, so I continue, “I would also like for it to have three center-piece stones. Two smaller diamonds, and one big green stone at the center. You can put a few of those tiny, little ones around it, too. I also want the stones to be lozenge shaped. If you can do it, I would like the green one to be a green sapphire. And I need it in size eight.”
“Take a breath now,” he laughs. “I can do that. If I place an order for the stone now, it will be done right on time. Give me your name please.”
I happily give the man all of my details and he tells me not to expect for him to call me, since he hates talking on the phone, but he will text me the updates.
I can work with that.
Did I just order an engagement ring?
Why, yes. Yes I did.
I go back to the room to check on Ronan, and find her sleeping on my side of the bed, nose stuffed into my pillow. I bring her a bottle of water and a painkiller, and leave it on the nightstand.
Brushing her hair softly, I kiss her forehead. She had one hell of a night, most of it spent in the bathroom, bent over the toilet. She stirs a bit at my gentle touch, but again, stays asleep.
With nothing better to do, I grab one of her books and start reading in her new favorite spot by the window. It amazes me how many sex scenes there are in these books, but they are all beautiful and loving, even when they are unhinged.
Does Ronan feel loved when we have sex? Does she see it in my eyes, does she hear it in my voice? Even if I wanted to hide it, I don’t think I could. I haven’t said it yet, but I feel the love for her leaking out of me and pumping blood through my veins.
“What are you doing?”
