Page 2 of One Night Diamond

“Absolutely.”

“I can’t talk you out of it?”

“Not a chance in hell, buddy. She’s the one.”

“Alright.” I shrug. “Guess I need to swing by Walgreens on the way home and get some sunblock.”

“Excellent.” He throws his arms around me, gives me a giant bear hug, and lifts me off my feet. “Thank you! This is going to be amazing. Wait till you meet, Emily. You’re going to love her just as much as I do.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do. Don’t worry. Emily is my person.”

My heart squeezes at his choice of words. I had a person once. But I’m not going to let my mind go there. She’s been out of my life for years. And that’s where I’m keeping her. “Who else is coming to this shindig of yours?”

“Just me, Emily, you and her best friend. We want to keep it simple. Who knows, maybe you’ll fall in love too.”

“Not everyone wants a ball and chain.” I roll my eyes. “I’d better get going. I’ve got some packing to do.”

“See you at nine!” Jake heads for his Mustang. “Love is in the air, bro. It might catch you, too!”

I give him a thumbs up, climb behind the wheel of my truck, and sigh as the engine turns over. My hand drifts to the pocket of my jeans. Inside sits a tiny velvet pouch that holds the two-carat diamond I bought for the woman who still has my heart. I’ve been carrying it for ten years, waiting for her to come back to me. Maybe it’s time to stop carrying it around and let go. I slide my fingers inside. But the minute they touch the velvet, I snatch them back out.

I can’t do it. Not yet.

I pull out onto I-95, and it hits me.

Hawaii is my chance for a reset.

I’ve waited long enough. I will stand in the Pacific Ocean, toss the ring in…

And finally set myself free.

Chapter Two - Gage

Thirty-eight hours later, I’m standing beside Jake on a gorgeous stretch of Hawaiian beach in front of an arch decorated with gardenias and long sheets of billowy white satin. The scent of the fragrant flowers drifts on the ocean breeze as turquoise waters whisper across the smooth white sand.

It feels like we’ve been imprinted on a picture-perfect postcard.

The sky morphs from a clear, bright blue to violet, pink, and red shades. The sound of a ukulele has the officiant stepping forward.

“Are you ready, young man?” He asks.

“I was born ready.” Jake folds his hands and turns to wait for his bride.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I whisper in his ear.

“Thanks, Dad. I know what I’m doing.”

Besides baseball, the other thing Jake and I have in common is neither of us has a family. He lost his parents to drugs and the courts before he was ten, forced to grow up in the foster care system. I lost my father to the Iraqi war when I was a freshman in high school and my mother—who was my world—to breast cancer when I was a senior in college. We must look out for each other. “Are you sure?”

“A million percent sure.”

“If there’s any hesitation, now’s the time. I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks.” He grins. “But this is honestly what I want. When you meet her, you’ll understand.”

“About that.” I lean back down. “Why haven’t I met her?” A sudden gust of wind turns my linen shirt into a pup tent.

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