Page 103 of Devil’s Disciples

He pointed to a little blue box. “I think that one next. This is going to be weird in a minute.”

“Why?”

“Just open it.”

After carefully unwrapping the three-inch square box, I peeled back the top. Inside, a key to his car.

“My own key?” I asked, lifting it from the box. “In case I want to go racing?”

“You own the car,” he said. “There’s another one on there, too. It’s a key to this house.”

My heart went aflutter. “It says Por-Shah,” I said, pronouncing it the way he had when we met. “Are you serious?”

“It’s not just like mine, but it’s close.”

“It’s mine?”

“Registration and title are in the bedroom. It’s yours.”

“Holy crap. Oh. My God. I have a car.” I jumped to my feet. “When can I see it?”

He smiled. “In a few minutes. When we’re done.”

I kissed him and sat. I pointed to his last box. “Last one.”

He opened it and lifted the book from the box and read the cover. “Thug Kitchen: Eat Like You Give a Fuck”

“It sounded perfect for you. You can learn to cook, now.”

He opened the book and flipped through the pages. “Thank you.”

He pointed to a large box. “That one now, and then the other.”

I opened the bigger of the two boxes, and laughed out loud when I saw what was inside. No differently than the album I’d wrapped for him, a thin square sat inside the box, wrapped in a different paper.

Eager to see what he’d chosen, I unwrapped it.

My heart swelled. “We can keep one for when we get old.”

It was a copy of Amos Lee’s Supply and Demand. It was affirmation that great minds think alike.

He gestured to the last box and stood. “Open it.”

Carefully, I opened it. And then, I opened the one inside of it. And then, another. After the fourth box was opened, I looked inside. The air shot from my lungs. Eager with anticipation, but uncertain of what was inside, I opened the felt box.

I nearly fainted. The biggest round diamond I’d ever seen was fitted to a white gold band. On each side of the band, diamonds were inset along the edges. I stared at it in awe, and tried to hold the box steady.

“I want to say something.” He walked in front of me and reached for my hand.

Teary-eyed, I watched as he took my hand in his.

“I want that ring to be my commitment to you,” he said with a shaky voice. “I don’t know how to do this.” He paused, raked his fingers through his hair, and looked me in the eyes. “I love you, Andy. I truly do. That’s not an engagement ring, and this isn’t a proposal. I guess you can call it a promise ring. Me giving it to you is my promise that if you come home at night, I’ll be here loving you, and you alone. For as long as you choose to wear it, I’ll never leave you. Ever. This can last forever if you let it. It’s the best I can do.”

He lifted the ring from the box, slipped it on my finger, and gave me a kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

And, at that moment, on Christmas morning, our forever began.

Cash