"Thanks." Her voice quavered, and her voice was thick. And right then, he thought, she positively glowed.
The knowledge that he'd done that sent a potent rush of pleasure through him, like a jolt of electricity.
And he couldn't help but wonder, if he ever really proposed to a woman, if she'd look even half as happy as Sugar looked right now.
17
Even sitting at the loan officer's desk, I can't stop looking at the ring. It's silly, I know, because it's nothing more than a prop. But still...
I hold out my hand, letting it glow under the bank's fluorescent lights as I wait for the woman to return with my paperwork. "Sparkly," I say, grinning up at Lyle, who's leaning against the wall checking his phone.
To his credit, he doesn't run screaming out of the room despite the fact that this is probably the fifteenth time I've said that between Tiffany's and the bank.
"I'm sorry," I say. "But it's so pretty, and it looks different everywhere we go. Sunlight, incandescent, fluorescent." It's a platinum-set classic round cut on a diamond studded band, and I think it's about the most beautiful thing in the world.
"It is a wonder of nature," he says, and I wrinkle my nose at him.
"Let me be girly," I say. "Besides, if anyone's paying attention they'll just see me being appropriately giddy."
I hold out my hand and wiggle my fingers so that it seems to shoot off sparks. "It's just that engagement rings mean something," I say as Lyle takes the seat next to me. "Or they should."
I force myself not to look at my hand for a moment. "When I was nine, we almost lost the house."
"Really? What happened?"
"Taxes. My mom thought my dad had paid them, but of course he hadn't. That's the year he left us. So when the bill came, she had nothing in the bank."
"She sold her engagement ring," he guesses.
"Good call. But can you guess the punch line?"
His brow furrows as he shakes his head.
"It was fake. Completely fake. Wasn't even worth two hundred dollars. I wasn't supposed to know--she was trying to be the good parent and not tell me the truth about my asshole of a dad--but I overheard her talking with a friend one night."
I frown, remembering. "Even then, she tried to cut him slack. She said that it was the sentiment, not the price tag. Because the ring was just a symbol that they were together. But as far as I was concerned, the sentiment was that he didn't value her enough to get her a real ring. It didn't have to be expensive, but it should have been something other than a craft store stone."
Once more, I hold my left hand out for him to see. "But this--well, this has real sentiment. And it's a symbol, too. The symbol of my victory over this loan," I say, tapping the desktop where Lyle's check for the full balance had been sitting just minutes before.
"So thank you," I add, then shrug, a little embarrassed that I got off on such a tear.
Lyle doesn't seem to mind. In fact he takes my hand and brushes his finger over the stone, then looks up at me. "What did she do?"
"Do?"
"About the taxes?"
"Oh." I frown. "I don't know. I guess she got help from someone. Maybe a friend."
"Like you," he says, his grip tightening slightly on my fingers.
My heart trips a little in my chest.
"Yeah," I say softly. "Like me."
The loan officer comes around the partition, and I catch a glimpse of her nametag. Joan.
I start to pull my hand away, but Lyle twines our fingers, then winks at me. Engaged, he mouths, and I roll my eyes. But I squeeze his hand, too. For Joan's benefit, of course.