Bankers' Hours (16 page)

Tristan continued toward the back of the store, and I increased my grip on his arm. Tristan patted my hand. “Trust me.”

“I am.”

He drifted past a few cases of rings and stopped by the wedding bands. As he perused the selections, my eyes wandered over to the case next to us.
Diamond solitaire rings.
I sighed. I would not have described myself as a queen, and I had never been interested in planning out my wedding or imagining what my “gown” would look like as a typical bride would do, but as soon as my eyes lit upon those sparkling gems, something inside woke up.

“What about this one?” Tristan asked, pointing at a gold band with filigree around the edges.

“It’s nice, but it seems a little fancy for you.”

“Too fancy?” he questioned. “You don’t think I could be fancy?” Tristan lifted an eyebrow, challenging my assumption. I couldn’t tell if he was upset about what I’d said, or curious as to why.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I was just thinking about all the dirt and grime that might get lodged in the grooves of the design. It would be hard to keep clean.”

He lifted the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t have thought of that, but you’re right. I guess I should get a plain band. I thought matching bands would be nice, but I didn’t think you’d want something simple.”

How did he know that? “I don’t know. I might be okay with a simple band, if….” I paused, reluctant to say what I was thinking.

“If what? Is there something you’re interested in over there?” he asked, pointing to the other case.

I dropped my gaze and answered quietly, “Maybe.”

Tristan snickered, stepped closer, and lifted my chin. I straightened my shoulders and looked him in the eyes, readying myself for whatever he was about to say. Tristan touched my chest with the back of his knuckles and slid his hand down a few inches. “You’re adorable.”

I felt my cheeks get hot.

He pointed out, “Those are engagement rings, Grant, but I suppose I owe you one, if that’s what you want.”

My heart fluttered. I ran my eyes over them again. “They’re really pretty,” I mused.

Tristan slid his arm behind my back and leaned closer. We peered at the rings together. “Which one do you like?”

“I like that one,” I said, tapping my finger on the glass over a square diamond set in a silver-colored band—which I assumed was white gold or platinum. Silver wasn’t very expensive. It was outlined in smaller diamonds, which ran down the sides of the band as well. It reminded me of something my grandmother had worn. It was more old-fashioned compared to the other ones, but I could not tear my eyes from it.

“Yeah?”

I nodded, trying to contain my delight—although he could probably hear my pounding heart, it was beating so loud in my ears.

Tristan patted my back and walked over to a sales associate. Not the first woman who had addressed us, but a man who was rearranging some necklaces in a case. “My fiancé would like to look at a ring when you have a moment.”

“I can help you with that,” the other woman said, stepping away from her area.

Tristan objected, “No. I’m sure this man can do it.” Tristan turned back to the guy, and he smiled.

“I’ll be right there,” he said.

Tristan strolled back over and waited until the guy locked the case he’d been working in.

I whispered, “Why that guy? What’s wrong with that other woman?”

He whispered in my ear, “I don’t like pushy salespeople. That other guy is young and probably doesn’t get as many sales as the older woman. When I buy something, I don’t like to feel pressured. If that woman helped us, I get the feeling she’d say all the right things to convince us what we should buy. I can’t explain it, but I just don’t like her.”

The young guy walked over but did glance at the woman behind us. He smiled and asked, “What can I show you?”

I tapped on the glass again. “That one. The second from the top row on your left.”

“Ah! The Rosemont. Good choice. It’s new.” He unlocked the case and plucked the ring from the display. “It might be a little small for you, but we can size it for free.” He shined it up with a piece of cloth and then handed it to me.

I was so excited that it surprised me how steady my hands were when I took the ring from
Jim
—I read his nametag. Jim handed me the ring, and I held it like my most prized possession.

Jim explained, “This is a princess-cut, three-quarter karat diamond set in white gold, surrounded by micro diamonds, with three others on each side, totaling 0.3 karats, for a total weight of 1.05. Notice the hand engraved, scrolling filigree around the top of the tapered band and along the sides, which elevates the setting. It’s quite stunning; I can see why you chose it.”

“Can I put it on?” I asked.

Jim replied, “Of course. Remember, if it’s too small we can size it.”

I glanced at Tristan nervously.

“Go ahead, Grant. If that’s the one you like.”

I stared at the beautiful ring in my hand. I was afraid to put it on. It wasn’t because it might not fit. I had long slim fingers, so my chances we good. I was afraid that this was all really happening. I was going to get married to a man I hardly knew, and this ring was a symbol of the commitment I’d leaped into. I started breathing faster.

I paused too long, and Tristan took the ring from my grasp. He took my left hand and held the ring steadily at the tip. Before I knew what was happening, he dropped to one knee. “Grant Adams, will you marry me?”

My breath hitched. What could I say? I had agreed before under duress, but now I had the freedom to back out. Only… Tristan seemed so sincere, and his eyes regarded me so tenderly. I panted, but even my near panic couldn’t stop my mouth from saying, “Yes.”

He slid the ring up my finger and over the knuckle.

“I can’t believe that fit,” Jim commented.

I stared at my hand and absently explained, “I play piano. My mother always told me I have musician’s fingers.” The diamond sparkled like nothing I’d ever seen. A tear rolled down my cheek.
I’m getting married.

Tristan got off his knee and took me into his arms, kissing me soundly before hugging me and lifting me off my feet. He sighed heavily in my ear when he set me back down as I gazed over his shoulder, inspecting my ring. Then he whispered, “I love you.”

I forgot the ring and jumped back. “What?” Surely I’d heard him wrong. I wiped the tear off my cheek and stared at him.

“I love you,” he said again, reaching out and taking my hands in his. “I know I’m crazy, but I’ve been all over the world, Grant. I’ve been sick, sad, scared, happy, hungry, and hurt, but nothing compares to how I feel about you right now. I love you.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d never been in love, so I couldn’t disprove his feelings, though they seemed sudden. “Tristan, I….”

“I know. I’m okay waiting until you know for sure, but I had to say how I felt. Teresa might have prompted the situation, but I would have asked within the year.”

By God, he was romantic. How could I get upset? I started shaking, and another tear rolled down my cheek. Tristan hugged me again, and I heard the clerk sigh.

Tristan released me, took my face in his hands, and kissed me. “Now take the ring off.” I did and handed it reluctantly to Jim. Tristan said, “Go wait for me by Starbucks. Have a pastry thing or a Frappuccino if I take too long.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Pay for the rings.”

I felt stupid. “Oh. But what about matching bands? Can’t I help pick?”

“Okay. But after we decide on the band, then you go wait while I pay.”

He glanced at the clerk. “Can you show us some plain bands that might go well with this ring?”

“Absolutely,” he said, standing up straight, preparing himself for the task.

After checking out the selection, we agreed on matching white gold bands with a tiny bit of design around the edge. Nothing Tristan would get grease caked in, yet enough design to look appropriate next to my fancy schmancy ring.

I walked out slowly, watching Tristan and the clerk talking as I left the store. It felt weird letting him pay, but I didn’t feel right arguing either.

I knew where Starbucks was. I liked their Morning Bun. I could get one while I waited. I walked along the upper floor of the mall feeling more lost than ever. I knew where I was, but this mall—the one I’d been to hundreds of times—felt strange. My life was strange. Who was I? Everything about me had entered a state of transformation, and I felt as though I was trapped in a chrysalis. Who would I become once my metamorphosis was complete? I sat at a table outside Starbucks and watched people walking by. Mel and I used to get frappés and pastries and watch the people all the time. Why did I feel so unfamiliar with my surroundings?

“Grant? Grant, is that you?” I heard my name and turned toward the woman who’d said it. Kyra. I hadn’t seen her in weeks, but her commanding presence electrified the air around her. “Oh my God, it is you!” She descended upon me, and I had no choice but to stand and hug her. I liked Kyra. She was one of the many women friends I’d had at the bank where I used to work.

“Hello, Kyra. It’s nice to see you.”

She smiled and waved at some women across the food court. “Debra, Janis, look who I found!”

The other women squealed and came rushing over. Soon we were all hugging and catching up on teller gossip. Debra had found a job working for Wells Fargo, and Janis was working at Giant Food. Both were happy and asked how my transfer had gone. Everything was fine, smooth, and normal until Tristan showed up, reminding me that my life was not smooth or normal. It had been uprooted and was currently undergoing transformations into something I couldn’t imagine.

I stuttered as I introduced him. “Um, who’s this, you ask? Ah… this… is… Tristan. My… fian… fiancé.”

All three women dropped their jaws and gaped at me, eyes bugging out just like Claire’s had. “No…
way
,” Kyra finally said, flipping her hair to the side.

Tristan was as casual as ever, responding, “It’s nice to meet you all. How do you know Grant?”

“We worked with him at the bank,” Janis answered. “Um, did Grant just say you two were getting married? Because I don’t remember getting an invitation.”

I had to think fast. These were people I considered to be my friends. “Um, yeah, we were… um, considering a formal wedding in the spring for all our friends as a way of celebrating the civil ceremony we’re having next week. We were going to plan a big wedding but decided we couldn’t wait that long to make it official.”

Kyra looked right at Tristan. “Did you get him pregnant?”

I laughed hysterically, but Tristan eyed me oddly. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I kept laughing. “Me? Why? Of course I’m fine.” I waved him off.

Kyra gave me a hard stare and then looked at Tristan.

Debra spoke for the group. “Okay. Well, as fun as this is
not
, I think we need to go. You make sure you send that invitation, because I
am
going to go to y’all’s gay wedding and cry my ass off. You hear me, Grant?”

“Of course, of course,” I agreed, unable to get my fake laughter under control. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I felt intoxicated, and not in a good way.
Swish, swish, swish, swish,
my ears thrummed with rushing blood, pounding a staccato rhythm to remind me I was far from fine. My sanity was unraveling and dangling me over a dark abyss. If I fell, where would I land—if at all?

Tristan shook each lady’s hand and said good-bye. Then he grabbed my elbow, pulled me into a corner where no one would overhear him, and barked, “What is wrong with you? That lie was the worst I’ve ever heard. What’s gotten into you?”

I began hyperventilating. “I don’t know.” I heaved. “I panicked.” I clutched my chest. “They know everyone I know.” I dropped my bags and grasped my forehead on both sides. The floor was spinning. “They’re going to tell everyone.”

“We came to the mall you grew up near. Didn’t you realize we’d probably see people you knew?” When I didn’t answer and couldn’t catch my breath, Tristan picked up the bags and led me to a chair. “Seeing Claire was a surprise, but your friends shouldn’t have shocked you.” He asked the person behind the counter at Starbucks for a cup of water, but I was breathing too hard to sip it. “Breathe, Grant, breathe. You’re having a panic attack.” Tristan squeezed my hand and instructed, “Look at me.” I did. “Good. Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. Good. Slower. Good. Try drinking again.”

I did. Then I told him, “I want to go home.”

Chapter 8: Apprehension, Desperation, And The Need To Have Another Person In My Bed

“DO YOU
still want to stay at my place tonight?” Tristan asked as he drove.

I felt better after he’d gotten me out of the mall. Shopping had started out fun, but I hadn’t processed the possibility of seeing my friends. I had wanted the familiarity, but seeing Kyra and Janis made everything that had happened over the weekend crash into the compartmented walls I’d constructed around it. It was all real. I was getting married. I had never expected my life to change so drastically just because I’d changed jobs. My overwhelming reality was catching up with my brain, and I couldn’t deal.

What had Tristan asked? His house? Another overwhelming issue.

How did I explain my aversion to the mess in his house without offending him? Maybe I should save that thought for another day. I suggested, “Maybe you could spend the night at my house? At least we know your ex won’t show up in the morning while I’m making waffles.”

“Waffles? That sounds great. I’ll just stop at my place on the way and grab some clothes.”

He did.

I closed and locked the door when we entered my house. “I need a shower,” I said, setting my bags next to the sofa and leaving him in my living room. I stumbled into my bedroom and started unbuttoning my shirt. The room seemed hazy, as if I were peering at it through a milky window. Then the glazed room tilted, and everything went black.

I OPENED
my eyes and saw Tristan sitting next to me, bare chested, leaning against the headboard of my bed. I was in bed? How had I gotten there?