Chapter Twenty-Three
She’s the One
Anthony
Goddamn, she could have it.
Every dime, every dream.
I clung to her, unable to breathe, or think. I just kept petting her hair like she was the most beloved of creatures.
“Listen, I don’t care how long you do that, I’m not fixing to bark,” she teased, when it got a little excessive.
“Wha–? Shit.” I clutched her head to me and gave her shoulder the three pats that Aunt Daisy usually did me.
She buried her face in my chest and laughed.
“Was that a tap out? I’m pretty sure that was a tap out.”
I shoved her away, only to shoot up after her when the door downstairs slammed and feet sounded on the stairs.
I put my dick back in my pants and jerked my shirt down, just as the door opened without the courtesy of a knock or so much as a word of warning.
A tall, blonde girl locked eyes with me, curled her lip, and then glared at Crystal. “You know the rules.”
“Wh–? I mentioned that Anthony would be stopping by to meet everyone. You said it was–”
“I said I’d have dinner ready. You chose to sneak him up here for lunch instead.”
“We were just leaving,” I decided, as I hauled myself off the bed and stepped toward the woman.
She was tall enough to make any basketball coach proud, but I couldn’t find anything else to recommend about her with all that sneering.
“Right, sorry Tindra,” Crystal mumbled, before hurrying me down the stairs.
“Sorry,” the laundry gal quietly murmured as we passed.
“Nice to meet you,” I quipped, as I took Crystal’s hand and led her along.
I didn’t like her being so far away, and I damn sure, didn’t like her living arrangement. So, I drove us straight to the mall.
“You in the mood for those buttery pretzels or something?” she teased, as we approached the front entrance, and I realized I had been unusually quiet.
“Nah, sorry. I guess I was still stuck on that girl acting like that toward you.” I shook my head and gave her hand a squeeze while scanning the stores. “What mall doesn’t have a jewelry store?”
“‘A jewelry store…?’” Crystal blinked up at me, not following along.
“You thought I was gonna fold a dollar bill up like some kind of origami ring and take you to the courthouse? You’re fucking crazy.” I kissed the back of her hand and led her along.
I could feel her bewildered gaze on me, and the absent way she allowed me to guide her.
“You’re serious?” she whispered, her feet planting just outside the Zales entrance.
I turned back when my fingers nearly slid free from hers as I kept walking, “Wh–? Yeah. I told you. We’re getting married.”
Her lips twitched in that quirky way and bloomed into a smile.
“You told me?” She repeated the words back at me, and I apologetically licked my lips.
“Trust me, love? Let me get the ring, and I’ll make sure you never forget the way I ask you to put that thing on.”
I gave her hand a little tug, just to see what happened, and when her feet moved, I stepped into her and rewarded her with a long kiss, “I’m going to make sure you never regret this.” I promised.
She looked away, but not before I saw the way her eyes misted.
“Can I help you?” a lady behind the counter asked.
“Absolutely,” I answered, without even wasting a glance on her, “Tell her what catches your eye, baby.”
Crystal stared at me, and though there was excitement in her gaze there was something else lingering in the depths.
She hesitantly stepped toward the counter and pulled her hands toward herself.
She looked like she was afraid to touch the glass counter, let alone dare to look at the precious stones inside.
I saw her gaze linger on one that was about the same rich, blue shade as my eyes.
It was set in gold and surrounded by a halo of tiny diamonds.
She squinted before her eyes widened and swung toward the other end of the counter.
She leaned forward, toward a simple band with a tiny stone and a ninety-nine-dollar price tag.
I gently hooked her arm and led her back to the pretty one.
“I saw you look at it, what size?”
“Wha–? No,” she denied, with a nervous laugh. “It’s too–”
“I didn’t ask what it was, I asked what size your finger is.”
The lady behind the counter reached out for Crystal’s hand with an encouraging smile. She brought out a set of hoops and measured her up.
“You’ve small fingers, that’s a lucky thing. Most rings don’t come in the larger sizes. You have to send them off and then hope it comes out right,” she explained, before producing a size four copy of the one I’d indicated.
“This is a Sapphire; it is an imitation of the one—”
“Princess Diana wore,” Crystal finished for her.
“Really? It’s an imitation, though. Do you have a real one?”
Crystal snorted and the lady behind the counter patiently stared, “I do not. The– ‘real one,’ as you say was valued between thirty and forty thousand dollars, if I recall the papers of the time. It was remarkable indeed. The difference is not one of authenticity, but rather carats. The ring you refer to was… And do not quote me, I’m no jewel historian…
It was a twelve-carat Sapphire, surrounded with–” She tutted, bunched her lips, and twitched them from side to side before shaking her head. “It had to be over a dozen diamonds.”
“What is this one?” Crystal asked before admitting with a quiet laugh, “I really don’t know how to tell the difference in any of that.”
“Most people don’t,” the lady assured. “The difference is, this sapphire is two carats with a diamond halo, and the band it is set in is white gold.”
“That’s too much,” Crystal whispered, but I saw the way she stole another peek at her finger with that big, blue rock on it.
“Bullshit,” I scoffed, taking her hand before the woman could slide the ring off her finger. I pinned Crystal’s sundress on her hip with the other hand, keeping her from moving along. “She’ll have it. That's the one.”
“Perfect.” The saleslady smiled.
By the time we left the woman talked me into a thin V-shaped wedding band to rest beneath it. Crystal protested, but the smile that remained on her face until we made it to the food court was worth every cent.
She kept peeking at her hand while I ordered our drinks and those buttery pretzel nuggets she’d been on about. It’d probably sound stupid, if I tried to tell Easy or the guys about it, but walking around that mall with my hand in hers felt so normal and so fucking right.
I’m not sure I ever felt that way about anyone before. At least not since the explosion that took my parents.
I always made fun of people who walked laps in the mall. Who does that? Just out here making circles for no goddamn reason?
Me, with her fingers locked in mine, that’s who.
And the sad truth is, I’d have made laps ‘til the sun came up if she kept on talking at me and making me feel like there was nowhere else I’d ever belonged.
It was bizarre. I was a man chicks had to run circles around to keep tabs on. I squirreled so hard when they started talking about relationships that next to nobody could lock it down, and most left insulted.
But for her?
I’d bought an engagement ring on our second date.