by M. Mabie
“We’re looking for an engagement ring,” she informed the clerk. Her smile was as bright as anything under the glass. “He’s proposing to my daughter. I’m just here to help a little.”
“My name is Samantha. It’s my pleasure, right this way.” The sales woman nodded like that was common and knowing what we were there to buy—men don’t bring the mothers to browse—she honed in on us. She gave us her full attention, walking us to a small seating area. Kara and I sat on one side and she sat on the other of a mirrored desk. It wasn’t the right time, but I thought about how nice it would be to get some mirrored furniture. Think of the views you’d be able to get while someone you loved bent over a table like that—naked.
“So what does she like? What’s her style?” Samantha asked, trying to gather information. I looked to Kara and she pinched her lips to the side in thought.
“I think she’d like something simple and classic, but something unique too,” I answered her, while watching Kara for confirmation.
“Yes, definitely something a little different. Blake has fun tastes in things,” her mother coyly admitted, winking at me. She nudged my arm with her elbow indicating she’d been joking and I was the punchline.
“She must get that from you,” I said to her as Samantha pulled up information on each of the stones she’d brought over to show us.
“Okay, I have a few things to show you, but also know we do have a gemologist on staff who can design anything you want. I’ll take a few notes on what you like and don’t like, and then see what we come up with.” She excused herself and went straight to a case across the room, unlocking it with a key. When she returned she came with a fake black velvet hand and a black velvet tray hosting probably ten different styles.
“This one is called a princess cut …” And that’s probably about the time I zoned out. I mean, I half-assed paid attention when she spoke about quality and clarity and shit like that, but none of those rings were right. We didn’t have an ordinary love, so she didn’t deserve some ordinary ring. I wanted to see something and think, that’s it. That’s without a doubt the one.
That never happened.
I was a little disappointed. Had I expected to ask her that night? Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. If it felt right. Even if it felt right, I knew I wouldn’t if I didn’t have a ring to seal the promise.
The trip wasn’t a waste though. As we were waiting for Samantha to come back with her business card and the information about going the custom route, I saw a necklace in one of the cases we’d overlooked on the wall. A thin silver chain, so fine I could barely see the links, held a pendant and I immediately wanted it for her. A silver, or white gold—fuck, I had no idea—charm weighed down the center of it and a small diamond sat in the middle.
“Samantha, I’ll take this, please,” I called out, getting her attention as well as Kara’s. We’d been there for two hours and I didn’t have a single reaction to one ring she showed me, but this necklace was perfect.
“Casey, which one?” Kara whispered as she came to the case where I stood.
“The anchor.”
“That’s gorgeous; she’ll love it. Have you bought her jewelry before?” Kara asked, linking her arm with mine.
“Nope. This is the first.”
The first. There were firsts everywhere and it amazed me how after all this time, we had so many milestones left with each other. The first piece of jewelry I gave her didn’t come with promises or obligation attached. It was just a gift, because it would look so pretty around her neck.
I’d taken her on a trip. She bought me ships once upon a time, and this twinkling pendant would be a good match for them. As Samantha took it out and held it in front of me to appraise before boxing it up, I realized how good buying things for her felt. It made me happy knowing I was giving to her.
Although the trip didn’t result in a ring, I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. And the necklace would go perfectly with what I wanted to ask her.
Things were lining up—well, a little differently than I’d planned—but it was clear where we needed to be. The anchor reinforced that for me and reminded me of one step I wasn’t willing to hop over. One that would ensure we’d be together, from this day forward.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
FOR BETTER OR FOR worse, I had to wait.
I was trying to be patient. You’d think after waiting two years to be with someone, I’d have at least a thread of willpower. I wanted him to ask me. I needed him to ask me. It was the knowing without a doubt he was going to, but not knowing when, that was driving me crazy.
Each day I felt better and better, and it seemed as though I was healing from all angles. The reminders on my body were fading and I looked like myself. The small apartment made me stir-crazy and I wished we were in San Francisco. At Casey’s house there would be lots I could do. I could work in the garden or plant flowers. Hell, even cooking was better there with the view from the kitchen. The kitchen in my apartment was fine, but it had no view. It didn’t even have a window, unless you counted the top half of the storm door leading out back.
I was ready to move forward, full steam ahead.
Casey didn’t say exactly what happened with the lawyer, but whatever it was, it worked. Nothing ever came of what Reggie’s friend told him.
The lead detective did call again to speak with Casey, but he didn’t have to go to the police station or anything. Casey asked if anything new had come from Grant’s charges and remarkably, there was nothing to report more than he was pleading no contest to the resisting charge and he’d probably just pay a fine after some family strings were pulled.
That was fine by me. I didn’t care what happened to him as long as I never had to see him again.
“Trust me, honeybee. He’s gone for good,” Casey had said. The conviction in his voice demanded I believe him. The look in his eyes left no room for doubt. Next to me, he was the second person who wanted to make sure Grant was out of our lives, and if he truly believed it was over—then it was.
Since my parents’ party had been put on the back burner, we were all going to a nice dinner at the Fountain downtown to celebrate their anniversary. The restaurant was a fancy affair and I was just as excited about having a reason to be with my family and Casey—all at the same time—as I was about the food.
It felt nice getting dressed up. I’d bought a dress online earlier in the summer and, by the grace of God, it fit just right. It was a slate-gray halter dress with a collared neck. I knew Casey would love it because there was a lot of skin showing. I added a coral belt and heels, which I hadn’t even realized matched perfectly until that afternoon. Some of my tan from earlier in the summer was fading since I’d mostly been inside, but I felt pretty. I left my hair down and fixed it in loose waves.
We’d showered together—a thing that was just becoming the norm—and thankfully I’d budgeted our time to allow for the extended shower … including the extra steam. As I looked in the mirror, I wondered if the extra glow in my cheeks was from the recent orgasm I’d had or if it was because I felt so good.
Dr. Rex had been right, though. Talking about the attack made it easier to put it behind me. She’d told me it was okay to start feeling better and that there was no time limit for feelings about this kind of thing. She said when women are emotionally attached to a person who’s hurt them, it takes a long, long time to heal. Having felt so far past any kind of attachment to Grant, it was easier to move forward. Easier to deal with the emotions as they came. I was processing what needed to be analyzed and putting the rest behind me.
With a future to look toward, I’d gain nothing from letting the past stall it.
“You look smoking hot, Betty,” Casey said from the hall as he passed the bathroom.
I was leaning over, applying gloss to my lips. I capped the tube and took my time appraising him. Warmth radiated from my chest to my throat as I looked at the expression on his face. Love. Adoration. Sincerity.
He looked smoking h
ot, too. Only hot wasn’t good enough. He looked edible. He’d gotten a trim that morning and his curls were tamed, lying perfectly as they should. He wore blue trousers, a pinstriped shirt with a white collar and cuffs, paired with a thin tie. What was it about a man dressed up that made you want to cancel your plans and strip him naked with your teeth?
“Look who’s talking, Lou. You clean up nice,” I replied walking out to meet him in the hall.
“Are you finished?” he asked, but didn’t let me answer. “I think you’re finished. You couldn’t possibly get any better. Come with me.” He walked us into my bedroom and stopped me in front of the bed. “Sit. I don’t feel like waiting until we get back for this.”
I sat as instructed and my stomach twisted.
Was it happening? Was he about to propose? Yes, Casey. Yes!
I ran my sweating palms over the comforter while he went to the dresser and pulled open one of his drawers. The one I’d cleared out for him only a few days before—and he was already using it to hide surprises? If I’d known that’s all it would take, I wouldn’t have waited so long to move my shit out of his way.
He spun around and hid something behind his back. His eyes were intensely green in that light and the smile on his face was one of my favorites. The toothy-not-holding-back smile.
“I bought you a gift, but first I want to talk to you about something.”
I was going to vomit. I felt lightheaded. All of my senses blazed to life and I felt overwhelmed. Joy, elation and every feeling I associated with Casey was amplified.
Yes! Just get on with it.
He sat next to me on the bed and I swiveled around to face him. He put whatever it was behind him down and took my clammy-ass hands in his.
“Blake, I love you. I love waking up with you every morning. I love listening to you fall asleep. I especially love how you make me coffee before I leave for the day. I love helping you clean up after dinner, even if I feel like I’m going to gain a million pounds if I keep eating this good.” He laughed.
I was about to scream yes before he even asked me. I tried to focus on the sweet things he was saying, but my concentration was all over the place.
His lips. His eyes.
My heart was even into it, pounding out yes in Morse code. Y. E. S.
“I don’t ever want my stuff to be separate from your stuff. My stuff likes your stuff. Our toothbrushes are now having an affair. We can’t split them up. I know this might sound crazy, since I’m so invested in this Seattle branch, but after these past few weeks, I really feel like this is the best move for us.”
Yes. Say it. Ask me. I’m yours.
“Move to San Francisco. To my house. It’ll be our house. We can keep this place if you want; we can even look for another house here if you want something close to your family and somewhere that’s ours when we come back. I want my home to be yours. I want that to be our home base. We’ve been floating around for so long. I’m ready to slow down a little. But I’ve realized that house isn’t my home without you in it.
“And if you don’t like that plan, that’s okay. We’ll figure it out. But that’s what I want. I know that’s where we belong. That’s where we drop our anchor.”
It wasn’t what I thought he was going to say and still, I was feverish with excitement. Just in a different way.
It made sense. Troy could stay here and look after Audrey. I was glad to go somewhere with little to no chance of running into him. I could work in either city, as could Casey now. We could live wherever we wanted. And when it came right down to it, I loved that house. I missed that house when I was gone. He was right. That was where we’d build our foundation.
It wasn’t an engagement, but it was so damn close that I’d take it. I’d take it all.
Casey watched me closely trying to read my mind. His eyes bounced back and forth from my right eye to my left, like he was going to miss my answer appearing in one or the other. Anxiously waiting, he bit at his bottom lip.
“Yes,” I agreed with an emphatic nod. “I really want to.”
He shot off the bed like a rocket. He did some fist pumping, then quickly reined it in, sitting back down beside me.
I love making him happy.
“Okay then, now you get this.” I saw the long box when he jumped up. He bought me jewelry. Not that I wore a lot, or that I’d ever really given a damn about gifts, but I couldn’t help but be excited to see what it was he’d picked for me.
“Turn around,” he commanded softly.
I heard the creak of the box as it opened and a few seconds later he was putting a necklace on me. He kept the pendant behind me so I couldn’t see what it was, and then he walked us to my full-length mirror. I stared at our reflection. We looked good together. Like a couple. Like two people who had everything in front of them.
His long fingers spun the charm to the front and placed it on my skin.
An anchor.
“You see where this sits, honeybee? Right here,” he said as he tapped my chest and my heart tapped back in response. “It didn’t really matter if you said you’d move there or if you wanted to stay here. This is my home. This is where I want my anchor. Right in here.”
I didn’t turn around, but I looked up at him over my shoulder. He looked content and strong and so damn handsome.
“Kiss me, Casey,” I requested and he did.
He kissed me slow and tingles spread through my veins like fireflies glowing in the summer grass.
So much for being on time to dinner.
We weren’t that late, but the restaurant was buzzing with dinner traffic. When we walked in we told the hostess we were meeting a party already seated. She smiled at us, relieved, as she continued with the people in line, taking names and head counts. We walked through the bar and paused at the main entrance to the dining room, where I scanned the guests for my family.
“I see them. They’re over there,” Casey said in my ear.
He placed his hand on my arm to steer me that way.
My blood ran cold and I froze in my spot.
No. Not again.
My arm. The same arm Grant had …. Let go. Please let me go. Please.
“Don’t.” I pulled away almost automatically. His eyes met mine; he was confused. “Don’t pull my arm.” Let me go. Don’t touch …
Casey stopped immediately, letting go before the words were even all the way out. My feet didn’t want to move. Couldn’t move, like they’d been filled with lead. My head knew I was all right, but my body disagreed. My thoughts conflicted with my actions. Reality blurred with memory.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Did I hurt you?” he asked, his eyes flashing with concern as the realization of what just happened dawned on him.
I needed a minute. I saw my dad on the other side of the room, but he was the only one who’d noticed us.
“I need a minute, okay? I’m going to go to the bathroom.” I forced my legs to go and marched as fast as I could to the ladies’ room.
What just happened?
He wasn’t hurting me. He wouldn’t ever … it wasn’t his fault. His grip on my arm was only guiding, not forceful or dominant. He’d been so gentle. I washed my hands and took a few deep breaths. I just needed to get my racing heart to chill out and I’d be fine.
After a few minutes, I felt my insides settle back into their places. I came back to myself. Back to reality.
I was safe. I was happy. I was moving forward.
When I came out of the door, I noticed Casey sitting on a bench at the end of the hall. Head down. Hands locked, thumbs spinning around each other. When he saw me he stood, but he didn’t walk to me. He waited and I came to him.
“I’m sorry, Casey,” I apologized. The expression on his face was pure worry and guilt. I hated that I’d reacted like I did, but it was out of my control. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Don’t apologize. I should have known—” he started, but I shut him up with a kiss. I tried to tell him I was okay.
That it was over and I was fine in that kiss. I tried to kiss away the discomfort the situation caused. We were there to celebrate, not to freak out over nothing.
“Stop. I’m fine. Let’s go have dinner. They’re waiting on us.” I took the lead and linked our fingers together and pressed my lips to the top of his hand. “I’ve wasted enough time freaking out, now let’s have some fun.”
When we got to the table, everyone stood and I hugged my dad first.
“Everything all right?” he asked privately in my ear.
“Yeah, I just had to go to the bathroom.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I did have to go in there—to get my shit together.
After all the hand shaking and hugging, we sat down to a family meal. Everything fell back into place. Casey was a great fit with everyone. They talked with each other like they’d known one another for years. I watched as my mom and dad held hands above the table. It looked so different than it had a few years ago. When I was comparing what I wanted to what they had. Or what it looked like.
Things had changed. It wasn’t about “being like that” anymore. It was about how I felt, not how it looked like I felt—and what I felt was unquestionably right. I think they saw the difference, too. No, not saw, felt. We felt the difference.
We ate dinner the Warren way. Appetizers and shared plates of entrees. I think Casey liked it. He sampled everything like the rest of us.
“We have some news,” I announced toward the end of the meal and the table fell silent. They were probably expecting what I had. “I’m moving to San Francisco. Casey and I are going to live together in his house.”
Casey ran his hand over my thigh under the table and the combination of that moment being real and his big hand against my skin thrilled me.
“Congratulations, you two. He showed us pictures of it a few weeks ago when you were sleeping. It looks beautiful,” my mother noted with a big smile. “And I love your necklace.” She winked at Casey. Those two had been shopping together.
You don’t take your girlfriend’s mother to shop for necklaces.
