But I kind of like the little notifications. It’s something to remind me of how far we’ve come in such a short period. I was right. Falling in love with my best friend has been like breathing. I’m aware it’s happening and yet it happens innately. Like it was always meant to happen.
There are times when I think I’m actually aware of myself falling in love with him. Little moments here and there. Like when he looks at me a certain way. Or says something. Sometimes it’s just a smile I know is only for me. Other times it can be as simple as just lying together and watching television, feeling his heartbeat against mine.
It’s everything.
Jarel’s isn’t far. It’s right in downtown Phoenix. “When did you stop here for the ring, anyway? I swear, we’re always together.”
“I bought it online,” Keno says. “Because you’d totally have been suspicious if I said I needed to go somewhere without you, and even though you knew a proposal was coming, I really wanted it to be a surprise.”
I wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him close so I can kiss his cheek. “You’re perfect. You know that?”
He snorts. “Thanks.”
We walk inside and I’m not at all prepared for the size of the place. It’s… big. There are cases and cases of jewelry.
“Online was easier than this,” Keno mutters as he leans in close.
I grin. “Yeah, I can see that.”
A gentleman steps up to us. He has a tablet in his hands. I watch his eyes drop to where I have Keno’s hand in mine and tense.
We haven’t run into rampant homophobia outside of social media comments. To be fair, people are used to seeing us together. The places we frequent might have thought we’ve always been together or still view us as hockey’s biggest bromantic couple. Otherwise, we’re surrounded by hockey. And while there are always bad eggs in every industry, hockey notwithstanding, we’re mostly surrounded by very loud support.
He doesn’t say anything, and there’s a chance I imagined the way his jaw tenses. However, his tone is pleasant and professional when he asks, “How can I help you today?”
“We’re looking to purchase wedding bands,” I say. I have the urge to add on,preferably with someone less offended by our love than you,but I keep that to myself. For now, at least.
“Of course,” he says. “I’ll add you to the queue. It’ll be about ten minutes before someone’s available if you’d like to stay.”
I nod.
“Name?”
“Etna Yreka.”
He taps the screen. He asks for my phone number and then pauses. “You’ve been here before, Mr. Yreka?”
Keno tilts his head and looks at me. I frown. “No. I’ve never bought a piece of jewelry in my entire life.”
“It says here that you purchased a ring just last month.”
“Oh, that was me,” Keno explains. “Sorry. The way it read online, I should register the ring to whoever is wearing it. Which is my fiancé.”
The man nods. “No problem. You’re all registered for the queue. Please feel free to look around while you wait, or we can give you a call when the next jeweler is available for you.”
“We’ll wait. Where are the men’s wedding bands?” I ask.
He leads us to one of the sides and points out the six cabinets for us to look in. Six!
“This was supposed to be the easy part of the day,” Keno mutters.
“Were there fewer options online?” I ask.
He shrugs. “No idea. I guess I could sort more easily online.”
There is literally any kind of ring you can think of. Engraved, two-tone, hammered, inlaid with jewels, completely bedazzled with diamonds. There are even some unusual ones, like intertwined vines and these really cool gothic rings I totally can’t pull off. Hell, there’s even one that looks like the tread of a tire!
Our ten-minute wait turned out to be thirty-five minutes, which was fine since we had our choices narrowed down by then. We opted for plain platinum with a hammered look on the outside and a fingerprint pattern on the inside.
