by Lisa Suzanne
“Well, it’s not over anymore. She confessed that she loves me, and we went through some stuff together, and I know someday I want to marry her. Is it too soon to buy a ring? I’m not planning to give it to her today, but I want to have it just in case.”
“Honey, if you want to buy a ring, buy a ring. You’ll know when the time is right to give it to her.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Okay. You’re right. Thanks, Ma.”
“I love you, honey. Good luck. Get her something really special but don’t give it to her until I get to meet her.”
I laugh. “All right. Deal. Bye.”
I resume my pacing after I hang up. The security guard’s eyes land firmly on me when I pass by for the fourth or fifth time, and he’s so damn intimidating that I can’t seem to make myself set a foot inside the door.
“You looking for something?” he grunts when I stop in the doorway and look at the counter straight ahead of me, the one housing the engagement rings.
A pain darts through my sprained wrist, and my head pounds and my stomach churns. My hands are sweating and I feel like I can’t catch my breath.
“A ring,” I mutter, my voice sounding all gritty like it belongs to someone else.
He watches me as I take another step toward the counter.
“Good evening, sir. May we help you?” some old bag behind the counter asks.
I clear the frog in my throat and draw in a deep breath, and I feel that security guy’s eyes on me again. “Engagement ring,” I finally croak, and suddenly I don’t feel his menacing eyes on me anymore.
The lady behind the counter smiles warmly, and I take another step toward her. This isn’t so bad.
“What are you looking for?” she asks. She walks behind the counter and motions for me to follow, so I match her steps. We land in front of a case, and she waves her hand. “Here is our selection of engagement rings. As you can see, there are many gorgeous options to choose from.”
I stare down at the rings and suddenly it’s like I can’t breathe.
It’s too soon. This is stupid.
I’m not actually going to do this.
Why am I even here?
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Amber: Who sang that double wide song? It’s stuck in my head.
I stare at the text and chuckle at the eyeroll emoji at the end of it.
This. Her. She is why I’m here. She is why I’m doing this.
The fact is that the minute I froze up, a text came through to defrost me. She reminded me what my purpose here was—what my entire purpose in life is.
Me: Sammy Kershaw.
She responds with a thumbs up and a music note, and I turn back to the rings. I glance through them, and I don’t know what any of them are called, but I see round and square and rectangle. There are ones that stick up higher than others and seem dangerous to wear, like they’d get stuck on everything. There are flatter ones, and big ones and small ones. She seems like she’d like a big one. No, she deserves a big one.
I’m not giving it to her anytime soon.
I just want to hold onto it.
I keep telling myself that over and over in different ways. It’s too soon and we’re not ready.
Fuck, why am I here?
I blow out a breath.
Because I know.
I’m going to marry her someday, even if we’re not ready now and it’s too soon. I want to buy her a ring because I want to give it to her when we’re both ready, and I want to buy it here at Caesar’s Palace where so many important things happened for us.
I glance up at the lady whose nametag reads Irma. She wears a fancy navy blue dress and I’m in my Kiss shirt and my jeans have some fresh rips in them since I wore them to the smash place yesterday and suddenly I take notice of where I am. I never take notice of where I am because I simply have zero fucks to give, but I’ve also never shopped in an expensive jewelry store before.
Is she going to show me the good selection? There’s no way she knows who I am. There’s no way she knows that I can afford whatever ring in this place I want.
She doesn’t appear to be judging me, though. At least not yet.
“I’ve never done this before,” I admit. That may be a dumb thing to say since she has the power to financially fuck me over, but that’s okay. It’ll be worth the price if it makes Amber happy.
“Good thing I have, then,” she says with a warm smile. “Let’s start with budget. What are you thinking?”
I clear my throat and glance around to make sure no one is within hearing distance. “I don’t have one.”
“We have a huge selection here in store. Our most inexpensive option is this one here,” she points to a small round one. “It’s one-third of a carat but has excellent clarity and color for twenty-two hundred. And we go all the way up into the hundreds of thousands of dollars if that’s more in line with what you were thinking.”
“Twenty-two hundred?” I ask. I look at what she called one-third of something and I’m confused. Do they serve food here or something? “For a carrot? Like the vegetable?”
She stifles a laugh. “No, sir. A carat. C-A-R-A-T. It’s how diamonds are weighed.”
“Oh,” I say stupidly. “And this little thing is twenty-two hundred dollars?”
She nods.
“For what?” Okay, so maybe I need to tone down the snide tone of my voice. “How big is the hundreds of thousands of dollars one?”
“Those are usually three carats or larger,” she says, and I detect a bit of an air of condescension in her voice, like she’s not real sure I can afford those rings.
I clear my throat. I knew diamonds were expensive, but holy fuck. Do I comparison shop? I’m not really the coupon-cutting kinda guy, but this seems a little ridiculous.
“How big is this one?” I ask, pointing to a square one where I can at least make out the fact that there’s a diamond in there.
“Oh, our princess cut with a diamond platinum band. The center stone is two and a quarter carats, and the clarity on that one is VVS two. It’s an excellent ring.” She pulls it out of the case and sets it on some stand on top so I can look at it.
“VVS two?” I ask. I pick it up and hold it up to the light. It’s shiny and glittery, and somehow it reminds me of Amber.
“It means very, very slightly included, which essentially means that it has some very minor imperfections that even trained jewelers would have a hard time seeing,” she explains, further proving I know absolutely nothing about rings and I should probably do some research before this purchase but fuck it, that’s just not the guy I am. “It’s about as close to flawless as you’re going to find.”
“I’ll take it.” I reach into my back pocket to pull out my wallet.
“Do you know her size?”
I shrug. “Small? She’s pretty thin.”
“Not her dress size, sir. Her ring size.”
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah. No. I have no idea. Just gimme that one and I’ll get it fixed if I have to.”
“Sir, you haven’t heard the price.”
I toss my black AmEx in front of her. “I know.”
“It’s seventy thousand,” she whispers.
I nod once. “All right. Whatever. Seems a little high, but just put it on the card before I change my mind.”
Her eyes widen a little, but she takes the card and the ring and finishes up our business. When I leave (without the bag she tried to give me, telling me my future wife would love it), I stick the blue box in my jeans pocket and hope Amber doesn’t find it before I’m ready to give it to her.
CHAPTER 41: AMBER
Four days pass in the blink of an eye, and suddenly we find ourselves on the road again, but this time we’re heading home. Will was recognized a few times last night, and he signed autographs and took pictures. I’m used to that part of his life at this point, especially since I know that the fact he’s a celebrity is the reason we’re going to be able to donate things to my ER.
We had fun last night at the club even though Will seemed quiet. I think it’s because it’s the last night of our trip, and rather than enjoying that by getting drunk and partying like his rock star self, he was all in his head about it.
I get it, though. I’m a little sad to see this leg of our trip end even though I can’t wait to get back home. But for him, this was his bucket list trip. That’s not to say we can’t have another road trip another time, but who knows when he’ll have another month where he’s free to take to the open road?
I can’t wait to talk to Deanna, my charge nurse, and Janine about this charity idea. I’m nervous since I’m going to officially put in my notice that I’m leaving, but knowing that I’ll still be around and helping in a different capacity means everything.
At the same time, though, I’m dreading going home.
The past couple weeks have been nothing short of incredible.
Somehow they’ve passed in the blink of an eye. Between a couple nights in Times Square, another couple in Michigan, and the last four in Vegas, it’s actually been thirteen days since I met Karen and Amanda Wilson.
And in that time, Will and I have grown closer than we’ve ever been.
But I know what’s waiting for me on the other end of this final leg of our trip, and that’s getting home and confronting my family with what I found.
I click off my mic pack, and he follows.
“Will you go with me?” I ask as the I-15 turns into the I-215 and we’re less than two hours from home.
“Where?”
“To talk to my parents.”
He reaches over and gives my hand a quick squeeze before returning his hand to the steering wheel since his other wrist is still healing. “Of course I will. I’ll go anywhere with you.”
My heart melts at the words, and I realize I feel the exact same way. I have gone anywhere with him, actually, and I want nothing more than to continue to do that.
“Do you think I should talk to Adam about it first?” I ask, seeking advice on the best way to handle this.
“It’s your call, but it might be easier to face if you have a united front.”
“What if we don’t?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
I fidget as I look out the window. “What if he doesn’t handle this the same way I do? What if he’s mad I didn’t invite him along or something? It affects him, too.”
“Well, for one thing, he was on his honeymoon. I think that gives you an out.”
I nod. It’s the truth, after all. I didn’t purposely keep this from him, but I also wanted to investigate it before I brought it to his attention in case it was just someone after his money. And, as it turns out, that is what it was—but I still need to come clean with the rest of it. I still have questions for my father that only he can answer.
He takes me straight to my place when we roll back into town, and after spending the last three weeks together, I sort of expect him to drop me off and head to his own place.
He doesn’t.
He helps me in with my suitcase along with a big package that’s sitting right outside my door, and as soon as I get inside, I grab the scissors so I can see what’s in the box.
He’s smiling the whole time, so I feel like he knows what it is.
I rip the tape off and pull the box open.
“A coffee pot?” I ask.
“With a programmable timer. Seriously, Amber. It’ll change your life.”
I giggle and toss my arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” I say softly, and then I press a kiss to his lips.
“You’re welcome. Now get that shit set up so we can have some coffee in the morning.”
I laugh, unpack the coffee pot, and play with the buttons a bit while he takes a sweep through the condo to make sure it’s safe. He plugs in the things I unplugged before I left—even though he wasn’t here to witness any of that since I’d just broken up with him.
I lift myself up onto my kitchen counter and watch him as he shimmies behind my entertainment center to plug my television back in. He’s bending down, and that nice, tight ass is perched in the air.
I sigh in spite of myself. God, he’s hot.
I can’t believe I almost blew it with him—not just because he’s hot, but because of everything he is to me.
And then I notice something in his pocket when he moves to stand.
I stare at it for a beat, my heart leaping up into my throat.
There’s a very distinct outline of a small box in his pocket.
Oh my God.
Did he get me a ring?
Are we there?
We’ve only been together for three months—a week of which we were broken up. And yeah, we’ve known each other a long time, and sure we have a bit of a history because of that...but a ring?
Is it for me?
Is that what I’m seeing?
What the hell?
“What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping toward me. He scoots in between my legs, and I open them a little wider to accommodate him.
I link my arms around his neck. “Nothing,” I say. “Why?”
“You just got a little pale.”
“Oh, uh,” I say. I think fast even as I try to feel the box against my leg where he’s standing. I don’t feel it. Did I imagine that? Do I want that? “Just nervous about talking to my family, that’s all.”
But that’s not all.
He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Do you need me to relax you a little?”
I giggle. “You can relax me after. I think I’d like to get this over with.”
“Okay, then let’s head to my place and I’ll tell Adam to meet us there. Is that okay?”
I nod. “I need to catch up with Emily, too,” I say. I haven’t talked to my best friend in weeks, and I miss her. Besides, I’m anxious to tell her about the charity idea.
We get back in the truck and make our way over to the guys’ house, and when we walk in, Adam and Emily are sitting at the kitchen table laughing. “Welcome back,” Adam says, and both of them spring to their feet and issue hugs.
“You guys too,” I say, and then the four of us sit at the table together after Will tosses his duffel bag by the stairs. I try to catch a glimpse of his pocket again to see if I can spot the box outline again, but he catches me looking and wiggles his eyebrows, incorrectly assuming I’m checking out his package.
Okay, so I guess I need to keep my eyes off his pants.
“How was the honeymoon?” I ask.
Emily and Adam share a look, and then they both say, “Fine,” before they burst into laughter.
“I feel like I missed the joke,” Will says to me.
I lift a shoulder. “Same.”
“It was going so well the first two days,” Emily says. “And then he ordered the sea bass.” She jerks a thumb toward her husband.
“What’s wrong with sea bass?” I ask.
“I didn’t know it,” Emily says, “but apparently I’m allergic to it. I had a couple bites and ended up spending two days in the infirmary with a swollen tongue.”
“Not so good for the honeymooning, if you catch my drift,” my brother says. Will laughs, but it’s still a little weird for me to think about my brother and Emily having sex. “And then, as soon as she was better, we did this fun jet ski day, but apparently my shitty sun screen wasn’t good enough and I got burned to a crisp with attractive blisters and everything. I couldn’t even lie down it hurt so bad, so I ended up in the infirmary for a few days.”
“And then,” Emily says, “once he was out, I got some sort of stomach bug.”
“Jesus Christ,” Will says. “Was there anything good that happened?”
"Should we tell them?” Adam asks her.
She nods. “Yeah. We should.” She looks at me. “Okay, so it wasn’t a stomach bug.”
“Emily’s pregnant,” Adam says softly.
The words fall onto a silent room, and then I jump up ou
t of my chair and shriek. “You are?”
She nods with a smile.
“Oh my God!” I gush. “My best friend and my brother are having a baby? This is amazing!”
More hugs are issued.
“How far along are you?” I ask once the excitement dies down a bit.
“Fourteen weeks,” she says.
I glance down at her stomach. I’ve known enough pregnant women and seen enough in my ER to know that this is about the right time for her to start showing.
And I also do the math and pretty quickly realize what that means. “Holy shit! Did you get pregnant the night you two got married?”
They both nod, and Will looks over at me like I’m a fucking genius for figuring that out.
“It was accidental, but it has turned into the biggest blessing we ever could have asked for,” Adam says, looking at my best friend like he worships the very ground she walks on.
“Congratulations,” Will says, but he does look a tiny bit shell-shocked that now two members of his band are procreating.
I’m excited for them, but I also realize that now isn’t the right time to talk to them about everything I just found out on our trip.
“So you two are back together?” Emily asks.
Will glances at me, and we both smile. I realize he’s looking at me the same way Adam is looking at Emily, and my heart swells.
“Yeah,” I say softly, my eyes never leaving Will’s. “We are.”
“How was the road trip?” Adam asks, presenting me the opportunity to share what I know without even realizing it. “Must’ve been good if it got you two back together.”
I suck in a breath. “Good, and bad, and incredible, and crazy.”
Will squeezes my hand.
“What happened?” Adam asks, nodding at Will’s wrist.
“Car accident. Sort of. The car spun out on some black ice in Maine and I guess I gripped the steering wheel so hard I sprained it,” he says. “It’ll be fine, though.”
“Maine, huh?” Adam asks.
“Yeah,” Will mutters, looking at me a little helplessly. This is my window. This is why we’re here.