For Braden’sbirthday in March, I baked him a cake with German chocolate frosting, his favorite. Before then, though, I asked if he wanted to have a party with everyone or just an intimate dinner with me, and he chose the latter.
So I took him to Angelo’s, the place where we’d had our first official date. Even though he drove, I insisted upon paying for the meal. I had already wrapped a present for him, and it was sitting at my house beside the cake on the table. My mom had at first planned to be there, but her newest boyfriend had invited her to go to Taos for the weekend, so we’d have the house all to ourselves.
The gift was big but I hoped he’d like it. I’d bought a high-end case for his favorite bass. We had huge “guitar vaults” that carried multiple guitars, both regular and bass, so they’d travel safely, but this particular one would be for toting back and forth to practice. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he unwrapped it.
When we got to the restaurant, Braden excused himself to go to the bathroom almost right away—or at least that waswhat I’d thought he’d done. It wasn’t until we’d finished our meals when I found out what he’d actually been doing.
Our plates cleared away, the waiter asked, “Would you like any dessert?”
I told Braden, “I baked you a cake, so we better not.”
His grin was hiding something mischievous and secret—and I should have figured it out right then and there, but I was clueless. “Let’s just share a piece of tiramisu—like on our first date.”
I flashed him a smile. “Okay. It’s your birthday.” While he gave a quick nod to the waiter, I finished off the red wine in my glass. I was slightly light-headed, but Braden had only had one glass and could handle his liquor better, so I was glad he was the one who’d be at the wheel afterward.
He was still grinning widely so I asked, “What are you up to?”
His eyes practically bulged out of his face as he feigned innocence. “Nothing.”
When the waiter returned, he held one plate. Setting a small fork beside me and then one in front of Braden, he then placed the dessert on the table between us. “Enjoy,” he said—and I didn’t miss that he winked at Braden.
What the hell was going on?
I got my answer as soon as I shifted my eyes to the plate. On top of the tiramisu was a white paper doily—and, on it, was a beautiful diamond ring, cut so that there were so many facets—and there were four tinier diamonds that followed along the band until the spot where it would touch the sides of the fingers.
It was an engagement ring.
When I looked up into Braden’s eyes, he was grinning like a little boy—and then he pushed out his chair and got down on his knee…just like I’d seen in the movies dozens of times.
I stopped breathing.
“Dani, will you marry me?”
Although my eyes were glued to him, I could sense other pairs of eyes on me. Jesus Christ…talk about pressure.
And then all those mantras I’d been chanting to myself over the past two years began cycling through my brain:he treats you right;you deserve Braden;Braden’s a good guy and you’re the luckiest girl;youdolove him;he’s so good to you.
All of those things were true.
And in the back of my mind was the smallest voice: You and Zack are over. You were never really a thing anyway. Braden—he’s the real deal.
So the word flew out of my mouth without further thought. “Yes.”
As he grabbed the ring and slid it on my left hand, the entire restaurant began clapping enthusiastically. When Braden stood, he leaned over and took my face in his hands. “You’ve made me the happiest man on the planet.” With that, he kissed me and I willed myself to revel in what was every girl’s fantasy—at least every girl I knew who’d read and loved Cinderella as a child.
It should have also been mine.
Two months later,the album was in the can and we were filming a video for the first single—“Sweet Love,” just as I’d predicted—and Mick was making lodging and transportation arrangements for the first leg of our new tour. We’d never toured during the summer, so we were excited, because we wouldn’t have to take coats or bulky clothing.
But the label was talking about having us tour the world this time, because our star was burning bright—and theythought, in addition to Europe, we could get dates in Australia and South America too.
By the time we hit the road, our bandmates knew about our engagement—as did my mother. And she was thrilled. Because she’d had what she called a “shotgun wedding” the only time she’d gotten married, she was eager to plan mine—and I was more than willing to let her. I told myself that it was only because I had a tour to prepare for. The single was getting a ridiculous amount of airplay as we finally got on the bus—upgraded to one with bunks and a fridge.
We were living large.
When we got on the bus, Gabi was there, kissing Zack and crying. He’d told her she could come with us, but she was taking summer classes and only one was online; the rest were on campus at the community college.
We headed out toward Phoenix, and I was glad we wouldn’t be there in the middle of summer. Something I hadn’t expected was that our crew was on a separate bus and, for the first time ever, we had lots more of them. About the only thing they wouldn’t do was wipe our asses.
