“Stop. You’re gonna make me cry too,” I whisper.
But I suspect she’s onto something. Finding your passion and finding your person—
Maybe the answer is just that simple.
26
Declan
I’m only doing this for Holden.
My teammate is checking out rings, and I’m tagging along to be a good sport—and because he hates driving. After our Sunday game, we pile into my car, and we head to the East Bay. We’re not unknown on this side of the bridge, but there’s less chance we’ll be spotted, especially since he made an appointment at a jewelry shop known for discretion.
The store owner meets us at the back entrance. She’s a petite blonde with a teacup chihuahua tucked under her arm—also a blonde.
“This is Gigi,” the woman says, petting the dog as we follow her to a private office. “And I’m Pepper. We’re looking forward to helping you find the perfect ring, Holden.”
“Thanks, Pepper,” Holden says, and Gigi lifts her chin, shooting him a haughty stare.
“And Gigi,” I add with due deference to the pup.
“Smart man,” Pepper says with a laugh.
A few minutes later, after she brings out an assortment of engagement rings for Holden to peruse, the woman then turns to me. “Anyone special in your life?” she asks.
Holden chuckles without looking away from the rings. “Just a little bit.”
“Oh?” The woman and her dog tilt their heads in identical expressions of curiosity. “Do tell.”
I glance at the sparkly diamonds Holden is checking out, then swing my gaze back to Pepper. Seems silly not to at least look at options. Since we’re here, and all.
Taking a deep breath, I tell her, “I would actually love to see some platinum bands for my boyfriend.”
“Wonderful. I have lots of those. It’s a new specialty for the store. My father just married his partner. It was such a lovely ceremony. Even my mother thought so.”
I love these stories, no matter when they happen in someone’s life. “Good for him, for figuring out what he wanted.”
She brings her free hand to her heart. “After all these years.” She sighs happily. “Let me gather some options.”
When Pepper disappears to the storefront, Holden turns to me, a Cheshire cat grin on his face. “I knew you weren’t here just for moral support.”
“Is it so inconceivable I was just coming along as your trusted friend and teammate?”
“Yes,” Holden says. “And I was right. You had ulterior motives.”
I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Fine. Maybe I did.”
He wiggles his brows. “So, when are you going to ask him?”
That is a good question.
I’m not at all afraid to marry Grant, but can I buy him a ring if I don’t know if I want to have kids someday?
That’s another excellent, but more complicated, question.
That night, after I whip up an omelet for dinner, I check my phone to see if Grant’s landed yet. There’s no text from him, though he should be here soon. I sink onto the sex couch, turn to the new memoir I picked up, and dive into a story about a journalist who battled a stutter his whole life.
I’m lost in this tale of perseverance when my phone pings with a new text.
Grant: Did you feel the gravitational force of me landing in San Francisco?
Declan: Like my dick’s a magnet for you?
Grant: Yes. Mine is hard just being in the same city as you. See you in thirty, hottie.
I’m about to reply when another message falls on top of Grant’s. I wince, wishing I didn’t feel compelled to open it. But the preview is like a five-car pile-up on the side of the road, and I have to look.
Dad: Guess what???
I hate clicking on it, but I have to peek.
Dad: I was going to call you but figured it was only fair to give you a heads-up first, since I know you hate surprises . . .
So why surprise me, Dad? I ask myself, but he keeps typing, saving me from having to reply.
Dad: But . . . here goes . . .
Dad: I think I’m going to ask Tricia to marry me!
What the hell? I hold the phone at arm’s length, hoping a different angle will change the note. It still says the same thing, but this can’t be happening.
His texts come thick and fast like smoke from a steam train—the one I worry might be about to mow me down.
Dad: We broke up a while back but got back together last week, and it felt so right. Want to be my best man?
I shake my head, over and over. No. For so many reasons, no. But can I tell him that?
Declan: You haven’t even asked her yet. Shouldn’t you do that first before lining up the wedding party?
Dad: Don’t be such a negative Nellie. Say you will. That’s sort of poetic, isn’t it? You being your old man’s best man. This one is gonna last, I know it.