Page 21 of Splintered Security
I’m sure I sounded like a loon. Seriously, how many times can one person ask about the marriage certificate—how long until it’s filed, when we’ll know?
I hope I looked desperate to begin the name changing fiasco and not just plain desperate. But it needs to be official.
Like official official.
It’s waving a red flag in front of a bull when it comes to Heath Giltenhouse, and I know it, but I can’t seem to care.
One, because there’s less he can do to me now. Not little, not none, but less, and that difference is important.
I also can’t seem to care because Ren Gallo is wearing my ring. Well, he’s wearing a ring he bought for himself, but I put it there. And I’m wearing his.
I stare at the two bands now resting on my left ring finger. One is loaded with diamonds and would be pretentious if it weren’t so delicate. It’s blingy but soft. The othermatches but holds a cushion cut solitaire which is huge on my hand. Still, though, it’s the perfect fit. Everything about it is perfect.
“You like it?” Ren reaches across the table to take my left hand, fingering the rings he placed there.
Do I like it? What kind of question is that?
I swallow past the emotion knotting my throat and nod, but add, “If I had every ring in the world to choose from, I would choose this one every time.”
I look down at my hand again, at his large olive palm playing with my finger and the diamonds sparkling there. When I look up, his eyes are heated, but he says nothing.
Our brunch has been like this. Stolen touches, heated looks. Lots of things unsaid.
For me, there’s so much intimacy in what we’ve just done. The vows we made weren’t for public consumption. Mine weren’t. And since I know Ren, I know his weren’t either.
Our very public declaration was of fiercely private promises.
I promise to be faithful only to you until the day I die. This is my vow.
Those words ring in my head. More than the love part. Maybe even more than the protect part.
“Where’d you go?” He squeezes my hand as his words filter through the haze of my thoughts.
I shake my head, but offer a partial truth. “Thank you for today.”
“Never again, okay? No more thanks. No more apologies.” He looks down at his left hand, then to mine, before returninghis gaze to mine. “It’s done. There’s shit to figure out, but not about that.”
“First there’s shit to do, now there’s shit to figure out. I’m sensing a theme here.”
He squeezes my hand again and releases it, settling back into his crabmeat omelet and side of fruit. I sip my mimosa and enjoy the man in front of me enjoying his meal.
After heading home to change clothes, Ren made a couple of phone calls and we were off. First stop was in Colorado Springs to tell my mom we were married. The war of emotions dancing across my mom’s face at this announcement was brutal to watch.
Her joy at my “happiness.”
Her sadness at missing the wedding.
Her grief at a renewed loss of August.
There will be no wedding for him. No being the best man in his sister’s. It’s one more milestone she trudged across simply because she must. Time marched on when August could not.
She settled on happy, but it was happy with a damp towel over it. Better than resigned, I guess, but still hard for me to watch.
She bought the story we concocted, which wasn’t surprising given it’s the truth, only stretched. We reconnected recentlyand couldn’t wait to start our lives together after all the wasted time and missed opportunities.
Neither of us said anything about love, though our body language certainly speaks of trust and respect. It was an easy exaggeration that anyone could assume, and one we weren’t going to correct.
I promised to see her more and loaded into the SUV to continue the trek to Pueblo. I made it back to the highway before the flood of emotion hit me too.
