Rock the Band
Page 17
That hurt, but the crushing blow came when he said he regretted having me at all. To hear my own parent express pure hatred for me was something I would never forget. Lane had broached the subject of making up with my father for my mother’s sake, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
What did I have to apologize for?
“Hey. You okay?” Lane asked her face etched with concern.
“I’m fine, just tired,” I lied.
I didn’t want Lane or anybody to know how much not having a relationship with my father bothered me. It was better for people to think I hated him versus being the sad, pathetic sap not even a parent could love.
Kyle parked along the street, just in between the jewelry store and the shoe store. It was nearly the perfect set up. Now the trick was going to be getting in and out of there without Lane getting suspicious or figuring out what I was doing. She hated when I did things that she thought pushed our relationship too fast. She’d kill me if she knew what I was up to already.
Having this ring would show her I meant business.
“This is perfect, Kyle. Thanks,” I said.
He flicked his gaze to the review mirror, and he nodded, understanding my secret code.
I helped Lane out of the SUV, and as if on cue, my cell rang. I peered down at the caller I.D. and frowned. “I have to take this. You guys go on in. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I kissed Lane’s cheek as Kyle led her into the shoe store. As soon as Lane turned her back I swiped my thumb over the end call button and pressed the phone to my ear. It really was a touch of pure genius when I arranged Kyle to call my cell just outside the store. A phone call was a believable diversion to distract Lane long enough without getting her suspicions up.
Less than thirty seconds later, I stepped inside. The privately owned store was small, but there were amazing looking pieces inside the glass show cases. Each diamond seemed to outshine the next as I made my way down the counter to greet the white haired salesman at the end.
“Hi.” I cleared my throat. All of the sudden my stomach clenched, and I felt a slight tingle of excitement inside my chest. This was it—the next to last step in getting Lane to agree to marry me.
“Yeah, hi,” I tried again. “I called earlier about holding a ring for me.”
The older man’s eyes lit up, and his smiled caused deep crinkle lines around his eyes to form. “Ah, yes, Mr. Falcon. I have that piece right here for you.”
He unlocked the safe behind him with a key that was attached to a bracelet he wore around his wrist. He removed a ring set in a tiny black velvet box and placed it on the glass counter in front of me. As promised, it was the exact ring I had picked out online. The single diamond gleamed against the lights in the shop, and my heart squeezed almost painfully. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. Not so much the ring itself, but what it stood for.
Instantly, I saw Lane’s face in my mind. What it would look like when she saw it. The way her mouth would move when she said the one tiny word I longed to hear when I gave it to her. Yes.
This was the ring. It was like it was made just for her, and I wanted to be the man who gave it to her.
“I’ll take it,” I told the man as I ripped my wallet from my back pocket.
He nodded curtly and eagerly took the card from my hand and swiped it nearly immediately, before returning with the card and slip for me to sign.
My sloppy signature graced the receipt for ten thousand dollars. Granted it wasn’t the typical million dollar ring most stars bought when they got married, but Lane and I weren’t like everyone else. We were just us, plain and simple, a lot like the ring itself.
“Thank you for your business, Mr. Falcon. I wish the best to you and your love,” the man said as he attempted to place the ring box and paperwork in a bag.
I shook my head. “No bag or paperwork needed.”
The old man shrugged as I slipped the ring box safely into my front pocket before making my way out of the store.
Twenty minutes later, Lane had picked two new pairs of shoes, and we were on our way back to Big Bertha. We were scheduled to leave for the next city on the tour, which I believed was Atlanta, in about an hour. Proposing on the bus wasn’t ideal, neither was in the back of this vehicle with Kyle right up front, but this ring was burning a hole in my pocket. Plus, I couldn’t wait to see it on her finger.
I took her left hand into both of mine as she stared off over my right shoulder at the passing building. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. What the hell was wrong with me? I could sing in front of thousands of people without so much as a second thought, but was freaking out over asking my best friend and long-time love to marry me.
Get it together, Noel!
Lane turned towards me and glanced down at my hands clinging to her. “You okay?”
I nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m great.”
An uneasy laugh came out of her as she studied me intently.
Shit. My mind was blank. Writing songs about love and loss with her in mind, even with dyslexia, came easy, but phrasing something amazing that would blow her away on the spot was kicking my ass. No words came to mind to describe just how much she meant to me.
She opened her mouth then quickly closed it before digging her phone from her pocket. Her mother’s signature ringtone filled the air.
“Sorry,” she apologized to me before answering her phone. “Hi, Mom.”
Never had I been so glad for a couple minute reprieve in order to get my nerves together and pound this muddled mess in my brain down into something that made sense.
What did I have to apologize for?
“Hey. You okay?” Lane asked her face etched with concern.
“I’m fine, just tired,” I lied.
I didn’t want Lane or anybody to know how much not having a relationship with my father bothered me. It was better for people to think I hated him versus being the sad, pathetic sap not even a parent could love.
Kyle parked along the street, just in between the jewelry store and the shoe store. It was nearly the perfect set up. Now the trick was going to be getting in and out of there without Lane getting suspicious or figuring out what I was doing. She hated when I did things that she thought pushed our relationship too fast. She’d kill me if she knew what I was up to already.
Having this ring would show her I meant business.
“This is perfect, Kyle. Thanks,” I said.
He flicked his gaze to the review mirror, and he nodded, understanding my secret code.
I helped Lane out of the SUV, and as if on cue, my cell rang. I peered down at the caller I.D. and frowned. “I have to take this. You guys go on in. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I kissed Lane’s cheek as Kyle led her into the shoe store. As soon as Lane turned her back I swiped my thumb over the end call button and pressed the phone to my ear. It really was a touch of pure genius when I arranged Kyle to call my cell just outside the store. A phone call was a believable diversion to distract Lane long enough without getting her suspicions up.
Less than thirty seconds later, I stepped inside. The privately owned store was small, but there were amazing looking pieces inside the glass show cases. Each diamond seemed to outshine the next as I made my way down the counter to greet the white haired salesman at the end.
“Hi.” I cleared my throat. All of the sudden my stomach clenched, and I felt a slight tingle of excitement inside my chest. This was it—the next to last step in getting Lane to agree to marry me.
“Yeah, hi,” I tried again. “I called earlier about holding a ring for me.”
The older man’s eyes lit up, and his smiled caused deep crinkle lines around his eyes to form. “Ah, yes, Mr. Falcon. I have that piece right here for you.”
He unlocked the safe behind him with a key that was attached to a bracelet he wore around his wrist. He removed a ring set in a tiny black velvet box and placed it on the glass counter in front of me. As promised, it was the exact ring I had picked out online. The single diamond gleamed against the lights in the shop, and my heart squeezed almost painfully. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. Not so much the ring itself, but what it stood for.
Instantly, I saw Lane’s face in my mind. What it would look like when she saw it. The way her mouth would move when she said the one tiny word I longed to hear when I gave it to her. Yes.
This was the ring. It was like it was made just for her, and I wanted to be the man who gave it to her.
“I’ll take it,” I told the man as I ripped my wallet from my back pocket.
He nodded curtly and eagerly took the card from my hand and swiped it nearly immediately, before returning with the card and slip for me to sign.
My sloppy signature graced the receipt for ten thousand dollars. Granted it wasn’t the typical million dollar ring most stars bought when they got married, but Lane and I weren’t like everyone else. We were just us, plain and simple, a lot like the ring itself.
“Thank you for your business, Mr. Falcon. I wish the best to you and your love,” the man said as he attempted to place the ring box and paperwork in a bag.
I shook my head. “No bag or paperwork needed.”
The old man shrugged as I slipped the ring box safely into my front pocket before making my way out of the store.
Twenty minutes later, Lane had picked two new pairs of shoes, and we were on our way back to Big Bertha. We were scheduled to leave for the next city on the tour, which I believed was Atlanta, in about an hour. Proposing on the bus wasn’t ideal, neither was in the back of this vehicle with Kyle right up front, but this ring was burning a hole in my pocket. Plus, I couldn’t wait to see it on her finger.
I took her left hand into both of mine as she stared off over my right shoulder at the passing building. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. What the hell was wrong with me? I could sing in front of thousands of people without so much as a second thought, but was freaking out over asking my best friend and long-time love to marry me.
Get it together, Noel!
Lane turned towards me and glanced down at my hands clinging to her. “You okay?”
I nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m great.”
An uneasy laugh came out of her as she studied me intently.
Shit. My mind was blank. Writing songs about love and loss with her in mind, even with dyslexia, came easy, but phrasing something amazing that would blow her away on the spot was kicking my ass. No words came to mind to describe just how much she meant to me.
She opened her mouth then quickly closed it before digging her phone from her pocket. Her mother’s signature ringtone filled the air.
“Sorry,” she apologized to me before answering her phone. “Hi, Mom.”
Never had I been so glad for a couple minute reprieve in order to get my nerves together and pound this muddled mess in my brain down into something that made sense.
