“Sara?”
I sniffed, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hands, seeing them smeared with mascara, ready to tell him, of course I didn’t forget, how could I possibly forget? Every minute I’d ever spent with or even without him since the day he walked into my life had been about him. I lived and breathed Dale Diamond and would until the day I died.
I stepped off the stool and turned around to find him down on one knee holding a little blue box.
“Oh my God.” I really thought I might faint. I met his eyes, confused. “But… you already…”
I looked down at my left hand where I wore the ring he’d given me the day Black Diamond won MTV’s Battle of the Bands. He’d proposed on one knee, in front of a stadium full of people, giving me this engagement ring. But at the time, Dale didn’t have much money. He’d begged and borrowed to pay for our first night at the Waldorf Astoria, but I didn’t want to ask what he’d had to do to buy my engagement ring. It was a small solitaire—just a quarter carat—but I loved it because it was from Dale.
“I wanted you to have something real.” He held up the blue box and it dawned on me where it was from. I had overheard Aimee and some of her friends—the popular kids, the ones whose parents had a lot of money—talking once about married girls who would only give their husbands blowjobs as a trade-off for “blue box” jewelry.
The blue box was from Tiffany’s.
I put my palms to my cheeks to cool them as he opened the box, letting me see what was inside. The ring on my finger was nothing compared to the one Dale held. The diamond was huge. I blinked at him in shock, unable to even breathe, let alone speak.
“Will you?” he asked, looking up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. He was really asking. Like he thought it was a real question, as if I could have any other answer but…
“Yes!” I cried, laughing through my tears, holding my arms out to him. He had me in them in one motion, hugging me close. “Did you really think I would say no?”
“I don’t know.” He breathed me in, his chest expanding against my cheek. “It’s been a rough two years. I was gone so much and you…”
He pulled back, cocking his head and looking into my eyes.
“I was afraid you might not want to marry a rock star after all.” His smile was small, tight. “I thought maybe you’d decided the fantasy was better than reality.”
“No.” I touched his lips with my fingertips, hushing his words. “Never. What in the world made you think that? You are my fantasy and my reality. I don’t want anyone or anything but you. You don’t need to give me everything. You are my everything.”
“So you want me to return the ring?” He smirked, moving to put it in his pocket.
“No!” I laughed, reaching for the box. “Let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater.”
“Give me your hand.” Dale held the box up, taking the ring out with his other hand.
I looked down at the engagement ring I’d been wearing for two years. It seemed as if I’d been waiting forever for my life to really start. First it was finally graduating high school. Then Aimee was planning a wedding and I was at the New York Studio School and Dale had marching orders from his new record company—he had to go whenever and wherever they said. I hated it—but I knew, he hated it even more. Dale wasn’t used to being bossed around.
And all the while, he had to keep me a secret.
“It’s almost ours.” Dale kissed my finger, pressing his lips to the first ring he’d given me. “If we can hold on just a little longer, it will all be ours.”
“What will be ours?” I watched as he slid that ring off, slowly sliding the other one on.
“Everything.” Then he kissed that ring too. It was surprisingly heavy.
“I told you, I don’t want everything.” I held my hand out for the other ring and he gave it to me. I slipped it onto the ring finger of my right hand. “I just want you.”
“Here?” He grinned, standing up and tossing the now empty Tiffany ring box aside, a wide grin spreading over his face. “Now?”
“Dale!” I warned, taking a step back, but I was too late. He pounced, pinning me to the bed. The weight of our bodies made the down under the coverlet rise up and Skittles flew everywhere. I heard them plinking on the night table beside us, saw some fly past the lamp, and felt more of them under my back.
“The Skittles!” I lamented.”You forgot about the Skittles.”
“I didn’t forget.” Dale grinned. “Some day I’ll be on tour and I’ll send a list to the hotel of all the things I want. Skittles will be on the list—but just the red ones.”
“You’d make some poor lackey separate out the red ones for you?”
“That’s what rock stars are supposed to do.” He picked up one of the Skittles on the mattress, popping it into his mouth and chewing. He pressed one to my lips and I accepted it, chewing thoughtfully.
“You’re gonna regret this when you’re on your way to the bathroom and you step on a bunch of Skittles.” I stuck my tongue out at him.