She studies me for a beat.
“Okay, but you better not try anything sneaky.”
“Of course not. Everything is aboveboard,” I grin from ear to ear.
“Sure. I have my eyes on you,” she says before pointing two V-sign fingers from her eyes to mine.
When her back is facing me, I rummage through the back pocket of my jeans until I find what I’m looking for.
“I wanted you to have something to remember this night by,” I say slipping the necklace around her neck.
“Ha!” she gasps. “What are you doing?” She tries to turn around, but I stop her.
“Hold tight, blondie I’m not done yet.” I finish closing the clasp and I adjust her gift so it’s perfectly centered.
“Oh my God! You’re crazy, Rod,” she says, her hands flying to the pendant. She turns into my arms. “What is it? I can’t make out the shape.”
“Let me help,” I tell her. I pull out my iPhone and tap on the front-facing camera app. “Here you go,” I say turning the phone towards her.
“Sweet baby Jesus are these diamonds?” she shrieks. Her eyes are so wide, they nearly take over her face.
“As if I’d buy you something cheap. Of course they’re diamonds.”
“No way.”
“I’ve bought you jewelry in the past for all of your milestone birthdays.”
“But nothing with diamonds,” she rebuts.
“You weren’t my girl then,” I set her straight.
She bites on her lower lip and stares at me through her lashes. “I kind of like it a lot when you say that.”
“Get used to it because I’ll keep saying it a lot,” I offer a warm smile.
“Still, Rod, this looks like it cost a fortune.”
I knew this would be a tug-of-war. I’m used to it. Dom’s a giver. It’s a challenge for her to receive. It was the same song and dance four years ago when I bought her a house she couldn’t stop talking about in Venice Beach. She wouldn’t have it. She thought it was way too extravagant for a gift. In the end, I had to compromise. Although the house is under her name and paid in full, she insists on paying me back—with interest—a little every month. You can never accuse her of taking advantage of people.
“Are you saying you aren’t worth it? Because I beg to differ.”
“You sweet talker, you,” she swats my arm again.
“I’m warning you, there will be no compromise. I want to see this around your neck,” I tell her.
“Fair enough. I won’t fight you on this one. It’s too gorgeous. Although, I still can’t make out what it is.”
“I bought it at Cartier—”
“Rod—”
“Didn’t you just make me a promise?”
“Okay,” she concedes.
“It’s called‘Juste Un Clou.’In other words, it’s a fancy and creative design of a nail.”
“Really?”
