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“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, blowing out a little tension from my chest. “What are you doing down here? Thought you were napping.”
“I… saw you leave,” she says. “Followed you down just a little bit.”
“Where’s Max?”
“Still asleep.” She peeks over her shoulder, confirming that we’re alone. “So, that was Rutger.”
“That was Rutger.”
“He’s very… imposing.”
I chuckle. “Good word for it.”
“What’s that?” she asks, looking at the bar behind me.
I pivot to look, spotting the little velvet box still sitting there. With a sigh, I pick it up and hand it to her.
Phoebe opens it with big, curious eyes and her mouth sags open. “Oh,” she says.
“It was my mom’s,” I say.
She stiffens. “Oh.”
“Apparently, she wanted me to give it to the woman I choose the marry.”
Phoebe looks at me, clearly startled but keeping it together well. “Oh…”
I take the box from her and snap it closed. “I’m not going to give it to you, Pheebs,” I say.
She blinks, hesitating for a second. “You’re not?” she asks.
“When I put a ring on your finger, it won’t be one that reminds me of him every time I look at it.”
Phoebe looks down a moment, her cheeks turning pink. “When you put a ring on my finger?”
I cup her face and kiss her softly on the lips. “When,” I repeat.
She smiles, and I fall for her all over again.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go back upstairs.” I move to leave, then pause. “Hold on.” I turn back to the bar, quickly waving down the bartender. “Can I take that bottle of bourbon?” I ask. “You can charge it to my room.”
He happily grabs it and hands it over. “Your name, sir?”
“Rutger Hemsley.”
“Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Hemsley.”
“Oh, I will.”
I take Phoebe’s hand and we walk together toward the elevator. Once we’re on, the golden doors close and I look at the two of us standing side-by-side in the reflective walls.
I tell myself we’ll always be this way. No, fuck that. I promise it. Me and Phoebe Pink are forever. I can always count on her to stand by me, no matter what happens.
Phoebe reaches out and pushes STOP. “I have to get something off my chest,” she says.
“What’s up?” I ask, curious.
