Page 57 of Wood

“Mmm,” I answer. “Sleepy.”

He nuzzles the side of my neck again. “We can’t have that. Let’s clean up, get the license, get dinner, wander through some jewelry stores, get ideas.” Another kiss on my lips. “Go shower up, baby. I’m taking my fiancé shopping.”

“Wander through some jewelry stores,” he’d said.

My eyes are popping out of my head. Tiffany’s, is he serious?

The saleswoman pulls out several padded blocks with wedding bands stuffed into them. Apparently he doesn’t like any of the offerings, so he tugs me into Cartier next. I feel like a kid who is just following his parent through a store he doesn’t belong in. Don’t touch anything. Hands in your pockets, young man.

Ben eyes something with a twenty-five grand price tag. Black and glittering, striped with gold. Too much, I mouth. Then we are off again, heading into David Yurman.

He peers over the display case and points to a ring for the salesman to pull out. Ben is grinning ear to ear as the guy hands him the glittering band and motions me over. Holy shit. A thick band, covered in strips of black diamonds looking like cables wrapping around the band.

“Put it on,” he directs the guy. “I want to see it on a hand, but not ours. Not yet.”

The guy obliges and slips it onto his ring finger, turning it back and forth. It is not subtle, that’s for certain. By the look on Ben’s face, he loves it. Looks like we are gonna wear diamonds.

He turns to me. “Ok?”

I hold my hands up in surrender. “Whatever you want, Ben.” The salesman almost melts behind the counter.

It comes in silver or black.

“I want us to match,” Ben says to me. “And I want you to shine.”

“I think people are gonna notice it, Ben,” I chuckle.

“They fucking better,” he growls. Mmm, yummy.

He works with the salesman to get two glittering black diamond bands shipped to us, FedEx, tomorrow. Friday.

As we walk back to valet parking, he is almost bouncing. “The cake will be delivered tomorrow afternoon. We’ve got the marriage license. We’re doing this.”

I’m getting married tomorrow.

36

BEN

I’m getting married tomorrow.

I want to shout it from the rooftops.

I gasp. “We need a bachelor party tonight!”

Geoff laughs, then stares at me. “You’re serious?”

“Hell yeah! Go put on something sexy. Let’s go out. Babylon?”

He chuffs and shakes his head, heading to the walk-in closet we now share, muttering. “Something sexy, he says. Some jewelry stores, he says. Thirty grand later, we have ‘some jewelry’. This man.” His voice is muffled in the closet. I laugh. “What the hell do I have that is sexy besides… hmm, well, ok then.” I hear some drawers opening and closing. “Hm, yep, that qualifies.” Shuffling noises. He is apparently changing clothes right there in the closet.

I’ve changed into skin-tight jeans and a t-shirt. That’s as blatant as I get, as I have always been hiding. I may need to go shopping. I hear him come out and he drawls a “Well? Will this do?”

I turn around and I swear my eyeballs roll out of their sockets. My fiancé is wearing tiny, tight black shorts, a tight black vest that doesn’t even pretend to close over his pecs, and a bow tie. And big black boots.

My voice does not work. His grin becomes a full-blown smirk as I stare.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Geoff, that will do.’”