“I like this one. It’s heavy.” He holds his left hand out, fingers outstretched, and stares intently at the band on his ring finger. A shy grin spreads over his lips and he looks at me. “Do you like this one?”
I’d be happy with a string on his finger.
“I love it.”
The saleswoman beams. “That one is platinum, and symbolizes pure and everlasting love. It’s very durable, but can show some scratches and may patina eventually.”
“I can dig that. I don’t want it to look perfect and shiny forever. I kinda come with some scratches and dents. Right, babe?” He nudges his shoulder playfully into mine.
“I love your dents and scratches.”
“I’ll take this one,” Blue says, taking the band off and handing it to the saleswoman.
“It’s a wonderful choice, Mr. Von Bleu. And we’re honored to have you as a client.”
He thanks her and turns to me with a worried expression. “I think we should get Lyric a ring, too,” he says softly. “So she feels like we’re all in this kinda together. I don’t want her to feel left out. What do you think?”
There is no way to describe the intense feeling of love that slams into me when Blue does amazingly sweet and romantic things like this. He’s always so unsure and shy when he has these ideas, and that just makes them all the more special. I struggle to hold back tears and not smother him with kisses in the middle of the jewelry store.
“I think that’s the sweetest idea ever. I know she’ll love it.”
He smiles and we start to hunt around the store for the perfect ring that will symbolize love, commitment, and family to a young teen girl. We find a dainty white gold ring shaped into the infinity symbol with a tiny diamond in the center.
He pulls me against his chest and kisses the top of my head as the woman puts our rings in a glossy black bag. My wedding band is just as beautiful—a platinum diamond eternity ring that fits against my engagement ring.
As we leave the store I’m feeling a bit in shock. We just bought wedding bands. Now we just have to pick a date and figure everything else out, but—rings!
“Are you happy?” he asks when we get in his car. “You’re sure you like the rings?”
“Are you kidding?” I say excitedly. “I can’t believe we just bought wedding rings. Oh my God!” I bounce up and down in the passenger seat. “I wish we could wear them right now.”
“Me too. You’re so fucking cute. Come here and kiss me.”
I lean over to kiss him and he grabs my waist and pulls me onto his lap. We laugh and kiss, tapping our teeth into each other’s but we just laugh and kiss until our giddy happiness morphs into hungry desire and we’re pulling at each other’s clothes.
“I want you right now,” he whispers. He slides his hand under my shirt and squeezes my breasts, then moves his lips to the cleavage revealed at the front of my shirt.
“We’re in a mall parking lot,” I remind him, grinding myself against the rock-hard cock straining under his jeans. Even I’m tempted—but there are people walking by.
“We won’t be for long.”
Ten minutes later we’re ripping each other’s clothes off against the wall in a tiny room at a hotel across the street.
Later when we’re driving home and he’s holding my hand and singing love songs with his gorgeous, happy, heart-stopping smile, I’m wondering how I got so lucky. Wedding bands and spontaneous sex in a random hotel before noon on a Saturday afternoon. We’ve got plans for dinner and a movie later with our daughter. Then there will be late-night candlelit snuggles.
I seriously cannot wait to marry this man.
I’m pouting. I don’t care. Watching Blue pack always gives me a hollow feeling in my chest and a lump in my throat. I don’t think there will ever be a time that a little part of me won’t worry that he might never come back. It’s just one of those scars that may have faded, but will never truly disappear.
“How long will you be gone?” I ask, even though I’ve asked this at least three times already over the past few days. I keep hoping the answer might magically change.
“Two or three weeks,” he answers, zipping his suitcase shut. Archie walks across the bed and plants himself on top of the suitcase, which he does every time Blue packs his clothes. I smile as Blue leans down and kisses the cat’s head.
“I really don’t want to go, babe. But the band agreed to it months ago, so I gotta honor contracts and agreements and all that other shit.”
“I know. I’m just going to miss you. Everything’s been so perfect.”
He strokes his thumb across my cheek and gives me a sad smile. “I’m gonna miss you guys, too. But as soon as all this stuff is over, we can get married, go on an awesome honeymoon, and just…be together. Right?”
I turn my face into his hand and kiss his palm. “Right.”
We could get married any time, technically. But we really want our wedding and honeymoon to be as stress-free as possible, with nothing hanging over us that we have to rush back for. Once Blue’s commitments are complete, I plan on giving my notice at work.
“Are you going to watch me on TV?” he asks, grabbing his favorite guitar from its stand in the corner of our bedroom and putting it in its case with one of his old notebooks. It’s the same guitar he played years ago in the park when I first met him. He takes it everywhere with him and I’m shocked he hasn’t lost it with all the travelling and crazy rambling around he’s done over the years.
“Of course. Lyric and I are going to make popcorn and watch you. I’m going to record it, too.”
“When I smile at the camera, it’s just for you. So you know I’m thinking about you.”
No Tomorrow is playing at a live music awards show in two days. The next day they have an interview with a talk show, when they’re going to announce that the band is going on a hiatus for an undetermined length of time. A few days later they have a guest appearance on another television show, then they have meetings with the lawyers, and the following week Blue has a guest appearance singing with another band. He’ll be staying at his bass player’s house in California while all this is going on since so many recording studios are near where Koler lives.
“I’ll be watching for your smile,” I say, already looking forward to seeing his special smile on our television screen. When he doesn’t reply, I realize he’s still kneeling on the floor with his guitar case, staring into it with a faraway expression.
“Blue?”
He stares blankly into the guitar case like it’s a black hole.
I cross the room and lightly tap his shoulder. “You okay?” I ask softly.
He blinks, then suddenly looks up at me. “What?”
My forehead scrunches with worry. “You just spaced out. Are you all right?”
He shakes his head, pushes his hair out of his face, and closes the case.
“Yeah,” he says, not looking at me. “I think I’m just tired.”
I wonder if he’s getting sick. It’s eleven a.m. He slept until eight, and we got about nine hours of sleep last night, so he really shouldn’t be feeling tired.
“Do you want to take a nap before I take you to the airport?”
He stands, still with a bit of a lost expression on his face, and forces a crooked smile.
“Will you lie down with me? And put the rain on?”
I wasn’t expecting him to want to nap, but there’s no way I’m going to turn down even a moment of cuddle time with him—especially when I’m not going to see him for weeks.
Wordlessly we remove each other’s clothes, kissing softly in between, then we spoon under the blankets with the sound of the soft rainfall coming from the nightstand.
“I think I just needed more of this before I go,” he whispers. “I just want to stay like this forever.”
Me too.
