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I shrink a little at those words, but I feel Chase tighten his arm around me as he steps slightly forward and states, “Really? I thought Val’s trust fund specifically paid benefits for her well-being.”
He doesn’t wait for my aunt to reply and continues, “Anyway, we have to be going. We’re off to pick out our wedding bands. By the way, you might want to ask Tony and Cristina when they’ll be getting married after their consummation at the church.”
At my aunt’s horrified gasp, Chase just turns us toward his truck as he says a cherry, “Goodbye.”
Chase leads me over to his truck parked on the side of the house. He opens the passenger side for me, and I climb in.
He then slams the truck door and walks around, ignoring the shocked expressions on both of their faces after he dropped that bombshell. He cranks the engine, and then we’re off down the street.
I make a noise, and he looks over at me. I’ve got my hand over my mouth, but I’m sure my eyes are sparkling.
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe you told my aunt and uncle that. My aunt looked appalled. I almost feel sorry for them. Cristina is their little princess and can do no wrong.”
Chase shakes his head, “They’ll have to get used to me calling them out because I won’t stand for their condescending attitude toward you. Val, I’m sorry you have to put up with the likes of them.”
I realize that Chase truly means what he’s saying. We’re silent on the way to the local jewelry store because, in my head, I’m going over every nice thing that Chase said about me.
I couldn’t believe it when he said he thought I was lovely, inside and out; I give a small smile. I didn’t know he thought of me like that. It gives me a warm feeling inside.
I glance over at Chase. I doubt if anyone ever thought of him as less than drop-dead gorgeous. In his biker leathers, he’s got a dangerous, bad-ass vibe. When you combine that with his good looks, he can get any woman he wants. I sigh. Chase has the sexiest lopsided grin, and when he forgets to get his haircut, like now, and his hair falls over his eyes, I want to reach out and push it back into place.
He makes all my girly parts tingle. I remember once he was putting up the new grill in our backyard, and the temperature was in the high eighties. You could almost cut the humidity with a knife. He took off his T-shirt to cool off. I turned around and almost fell over. For a minute there, I forgot even to breathe.
Chase has a chiseled body and hard abs. He also has a sexy-as-hell black tribal tattoo over one shoulder and down his arm. Chase may have a few more tattoos, but I was worried he saw me drooling and turned away. Hopefully, he was too busy putting the grill together to notice my reaction.
The next day, I went on a diet, trying to get smaller than my size fourteen, but after a few weeks, I gave up trying. I’m Italian, and I love to eat. My curves are permanent. I’ve learned to accept them, even if that means a guy like Chase, who seems to only go out with thin model-type girls, wouldn’t think of dating a girl my size.
I learned to like and appreciate my body a long time ago, which was not an easy thing to learn, living with my aunt. My Aunt Gloria believes every girl should be a perfect size six. But not every guy wants a slim girl; if he doesn’t like me the way I am, it’s his loss!
When we get to the jeweler, Chase has me pick out the wedding rings; I see a gorgeous set that is gold and silver entwined into one band. The engagement ring has the perfect-sized diamond, which is not too big and not too small. But when the saleslady explains the rings are made of platinum, I try to pick out another set.
“No, we’ll take this set,” Chase tells the sales lady, ignoring my protests.
He pays for the rings, “We’ll be back in about an hour to pick them up.”
Now we’re eating lunch while we wait for the rings to be sized.
“Chase, I should be the one paying for the rings and any other expenses that have to do with us getting married.”
“No. I’m the man, Val,” he says immediately without even considering my suggestion.
At my raised eyebrow, at his caveman thinking, he signs and says, “I understand what you’re saying, in theory, about splitting expenses, but frankly, it’s totally unrealistic.”
“How so?”
“I’m a guy. I wouldn’t feel comfortable if you paid.”
“But–”
“No, you will not be paying when you’re with me. Look, you can call me a chauvinist or old-fashioned; I really don’t care. This is non-negotiable, Val. So, let it go.”
As I continue to frown at his words, he points out, “We didn’t have a problem when we fixed up the backyard.”
“That’s because you paid for most of the renovations,” I say with an eye roll.
“That’s not true. I wanted the grill, so I paid for it. You bought all those plants and flowers.”
“Hmmm. Good point. Okay. I guess.”
