I Can't Buy You Nice Things, Like Big Diamond Rings

“Harley, your shift is up, babe,” my co-worker, Hannah, called out to me.

“Thanks, darling.”

I scurried into the back of the shop and grabbed my satchel before leaving for the tiny downtown apartment that my boyfriend and I of four years live in and are paying way more to live there than it’s worth. That’s what you get thought when you’re an aspiring hairdresser in The Big Apple.

I started the nine block stroll back to my apartment to see Brock. He told me that tonight was going to be special and I should get home ASAP to get ready. I stopped by the local bakery on my way and grabbed a couple of pieces of pie for Brock and I. When I got to the building, I opened the door and walked in.

“Babe, I’m home,” I called out.

“Hello, beautiful. Time for you to get your cute little butt in the shower,” he said, appearing from the kitchen with an apron on with sauce all over it.

“Relax, dear. Give me a little time to chill. Besides, you didn’t even give me a kiss,” I said with a pout on my lips.

He quickly crossed the room and wrapped his arms around me before crashing his lips to mine.

“How was work?” he asked.

“Okay. I can’t wait until I get enough money to open my own shop. I hate not having control of when I work,” I said while rolling my blue eyes.

“Aww. I’m sorry, hon. It’ll get better though. Once my songs start to take flight, we’ll be living the high life, dear. Just imagine it. You and me in a house that’s just outside the city with our adorable little children running around in the yard. I can smell the fresh cut grass as we speak,” he said while his green eyes got a little glazed over and his face lit up with a smile.

I wrinkled his chestnut brown hair before walking off towards the bathroom. Once I had the door securely locked, I started to disrobe. I turned the shower on a fairly warm temperature and waited for it to heat up. As soon as the water was warm, I jumped into the shower and started washing up.

Half an hour later, I was out of the shower and getting dressed into my favorite pair of sweat pants and one of Brock’s old soccer hoodies.

I walked into the kitchen where Brock was cooking and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind.

“What’s for dinner?” I asked.

“Well, tonight, I will be serving you spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread and a side salad, and cherry kool-aid,” he said in a French accent.

“Perfect.”

“Just like you. Now scurry your adorable little booty into that living room and turn on whatever you want to watch,” he said with an adorable smile.

“Fine, fine,” I said while walking into the living room and flipping the TV onto Aladdin.

I watched the movie for about ten minutes before Brock arrived with the food in hand.

“Here you go, love,” he said, handing my plate and glass of kool-aid.

“Thank you.”

We ate in a comfortable silence as we watched the movie. When we finished eating, I took the plates into the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher before returning to the couch only to find Brock sprawled out over the whole thing.

“Where exactly am I supposed to sit?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Right here,” he said, patting his lap and smiling deviously. I walked over to the couch and plopped down onto his lap.

“So what’s the big news?” I asked, looking down at him.

“What big news?” he replied stunned.

“Oh, come on, babe. You made dinner out of nowhere. You’re relaxing instead of stressing over your guitar. Something’s got to be up.”

“Okay, fine, but only because you’re so damn cute,” he said, pecking my cheek. “Well, today I got a call from the record company, and some band, plain t-shirts or something like that, liked one of my songs. They’re an up and coming band and they want to put my song on their album!” he said, enthusiastically.

“Oh my God!! That’s so great, Brock! I’m so proud of you,” I said while hugging him as close to myself as possible.

“I know! I’m so excited!”

“Well, which song was it?” I asked.

“It’s actually a song that you haven’t heard yet. Do you want to hear it?”

“Of course!”

He leaned over the back of the couch and grabbed his black guitar that he had named Lightning. He started strumming before starting up with the lyrics. He may not have been much of a singer, but his lyrics were awesome and his guitar playing was amazing.

“I don’t know how to make lots of money. I got debts that I’m trying to pay. I can’t buy you nice things, like big diamond rings, but that don’t mean much anyway.”

He suddenly stopped strumming and looked up at me.

“Go on,” I encouraged, excited to hear the rest.

“Actually, I want to stop there. Harley, I love you so much, and I know right now is rough on us financially, but you know I’ll always be here for you, right?”

I nodded my head before he continued.

“Well, I wrote this song about you. Actually, you’re the inspiration for most of my songs. Just like in the song, though, I can’t buy you a ring, but I would really love to have you as my wife. Harley, will you please do the honor of marrying me?” he asked, getting down on one knee and pulling a ring pop out of his pocket.

“Of course, Brock. I love you so much!” I said, laughing as he opened up the package and slipped the ring pop on my pinkie finger since it wouldn’t fit on my ring finger. I licked the sucker part and laughed at his expression.

“Tastes like blue raspberry,” I said with a laugh. He joined in to and wrapped his arm around my waist.

“I don’t know when, Harley, but someday I’ll have a big diamond ring on your finger. I promise,” he said, kissing me on the lips softly.

“I believe you, but please don’t make it too gaudy. We don’t need people thinking they pay you too much,” I said with a laugh. He laughed too and kissed me again.

“I love you, Harley.”

“I love you, Brock.”