Chapter 6
Emily
“It’s the biggest Boot Barn in the state!” I clap as Roman parks the truck in front of the store. Carrie and Casey are in the back seat, and Chris Stapleton is coming through the speakers.
Everything is perfect.
My belly does ten kinds of turns. We’re all riding high. There was some sort of hiccup, and Carrie bailed on me during our second episode of Drag Race to go step in for Roman.
When he came back to the room, he wasn’t in a talking mood and I’m all for poking the bull, but even I know when to turn into a purring kitten and sit tight.
Half hour later, Casey came through the door whooping and even Carrie did a little jump clap. The deal got signed, and now we’re on our way to some surprise Wyoming wedding destination Roman’s cooked up somehow, but before we say the ‘I do’s’, we’re stopping for some new wedding gear all around.
I don’t care if Roman has money or not, but now he does, and this signed deal has unlocked my one-way ticket to pound town.
We stopped at the county courthouse before coming here, and we have our marriage license all ready to be signed by a presiding official and two witnesses, who are I think are as excited as we are.
And scared, of course, of what our collective parents are going to do to all of us when they find out we have something a little more serious on our schedule than mani-pedis, shit-talking each other, ordering pizza, and swimming in the hotel pool.
“These.” Roman comes from around the corner of one of the towering shelves of boots, holding a pair of white Lucchese’s, with platinum embossed toe tips and turquoise embellishments set into the side seams. “These are your wedding boots.”
He smiles one of his rare smiles, and that dimple comes out to play ‘you’re it’ with my ovaries and womb spasms.
“They’re beautiful. Are they expensive?” I fuss and his face falls.
I immediately clench my teeth, realizing that was not the correct response.
“I’m sorry, cowboy, I love them!” I throw myself forward, latching my arms around his waist, my head barely hitting his chest, and squeeze, looking up with my best little girl smile. “But not as much as I love you, Daddy.”
And just like that, the light comes back into his eyes, and all is right in his world again.
“That’s my girl. Now, you girls pick out whatever you want.
” He nods to Carrie, who is carefully studying a pair of red Tony Llama Premiums like they’re alien technology, then swings her head around in surprise that he’s speaking to her.
“I want you both looking like you’re getting crowned Miss Rodeo Wyoming when we leave here. ”
“Yes, but where are we going?” Carrie’s OCD sends her voice higher. She doesn’t like surprises, so being roped in at the last minute to get the deal across the line likely has her covered in hives and then, add on a last-minute wedding and she needs a shot and a beer, pronto.
“You’re gonna have to trust me. It’s not far, and it will be a low-key affair.” Roman winks, and I forget how to breathe.
“We got friends in low places.” My smile stretches to my ears.
I hope I feel like this in ten years, twenty, eighty.
“What about our parents?” Carrie asks again as Casey comes down the boot aisle to join us, tapping on his phone and looking distracted, before looking from Carrie to me to Roman.
“Yeah, they’re gonna lose their collective shit.” He nods with a twist of his lips.
Roman puts up a hand, his black felt Stetson shadowing his eyes from the fluorescents overhead. Waylon Jennings playing through the speakers.
I’m in a happiness haze when I feel Roman’s rough hand pull on mine, bringing it up between us as she holds something pinched in the fingers of his other hand.
“This was my grandmother’s. I never met her.” His face is solumn and I swallow back the tear that threaten to burst from my lower lids. I know what’s coming. I waited for this moment for so long but now that it’s here, I’m woefully unprepared.
A rose gold ring meets the tip of my ring finger. Roman doesn’t ask and I can tell by the way his jaw is set, words are going to break him right now and one thing I will never, ever do, is break my cowboy. Spirit or otherwise.
“Put it on me, Saint Roman. I’m ready.”
The engagement ring is an enormous deep blue sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds. It’s filigree band hugs my finger perfectly as he slides it on, then brings it to his mouth and plants a kiss on my knuckles.
“It’s the one thing my mom held onto and my parents saved for me. Now, it’s yours.”
“Ours.” I manage, looking over at Carrie who is covering her mouth, rivers of tears streaming over her fingers and Casey is stone still, swiping at his eyes with the back of a hand.
Roman lets out a long breath as the four of us stand there in the scent of leather, and the sound of Waylon and my heart pounding in my ears.
“We’ll have another wedding back home. Big one, with all of them, whoever they want to invite, long white dress, tuxedos and the whole shooting match.
I’ll take the heat.” He looks down at me.
“Your dad’s gonna think this is all my fault anyway.
I can take it. I’ve stayed out of trouble nearly a year.
I’ve got the funds to support you the way you should be, and once you’re my wife, I can conquer the world, baby. ”
The next hour is filled with fitting rooms and laughter, and nearly every sales person in the store dotes on us as soon as they learn we’re getting married and that my soon-to-be husband is loaded.
They make more and more ridiculously expensive suggestions about platinum boot spurs, rhinestone corsets and whatever else they could suggest to boost their commission.
Carrie and I sneak away at the first opportunity, and I ignore the urge to let Roman know where we’re going so that I can at least surprise him with something.
The store has a whole selection of custom turquoise, sterling silver and platinum jewelry.
My fingers brush over flashy silver and gold bands, and when I spot the ring, I know it’s perfect for my cowboy husband.
It doesn’t shine. The platinum is almost dull. But embedded into the metal is a jagged vein of bright turquoise, like a flash of the Montana skyline we call home breaking through a stormy mountain peak.
I don’t even ask the price. I just hand the assistant my card and drop the ring into my bag as Carrie grins, and we slip back to the boys with excuses about needing to find the little cowgirls’ room.
Roman looks like a proud papa paying the bill for everything, and when he leans down and kisses my neck, I know our life together is going to be perfect.
“Put it all in the truck,” he orders the army of sales staff standing there with plastered-on smiles, holding the twenty-five bags of all our wedding gear.
Then he raises a hand making a looping gesture like he’s swinging a lasso over his head.
“Yee haw. It’s a five-minute drive, and our future is waiting. Let’s saddle up!”