A Pocketful of Gems

Chapter 7: a pocket full of rye - Part 4

He spread his palms open on the table to show the small black velvet box. My mouth fell open. I quickly snapped it close when he slowly lifted the cover. My hands went to my face and slid down to cover my mouth.

"Spencer?"

"It's a Promise Ring," he took the tiny silver coloured ring from its setting. It was adorned simply with a thin grove cut into the band going right around, filled with a clear yellow resin. He held it up to me. "I'm sorry, I'm about to ask a lot of you. I need you to wear this for the next twenty-four years."

My shoulders slumped.

"I'll be forty!"

"Your dad won't agree to anything less."

"Daddy," I sighed heavily, "I'll have mom talk to him."

"Then you're saying yes?" I looked up at him.

"Not to the twenty-four year wait, but yea," I gave a half smile, "kinda thought that was obvious."

"I'm not 100% certain that you're not still teasing."

"I'm not."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"Yes!" he stood and came around the table. I panicked and looked around. "Spencer, what are you ... no ... don't go down on one ... aahhhh, oh my God!"

Spencer knelt beside my chair.

"Gemma Hazelwood, will you promise to save yourself for me, excluding all other, especially Johnny Depp?"

"You're asking a lot with the last bit, but if you can exclude sexy camp counselors, then I am inclined to go along with your spartan request."

He smiled. I frowned.

"Quit trying to seduce me and put the ring on my finger."

He slid the band onto my ring finger. I looked at it. It made my hand look gorgeous.

"Is my dad around somewhere?"

Spencer eased to his feet dusting off his knee, "no, your mom promised to keep him restrained. Why?"

I grasped Spencer's tie and hauled him down, he braced himself against the table and the back of my chair, and I kissed him.

The kiss might have lasted forever had a bright flash not erupted in the room.

"Was that lightening?"

"No," Spencer looked behind us. I turned in my seat. I blanched, blushed and smiling, gave an awkward little wave.

"Hello Mr. Adams."

"Seemed like a photo opportunity, it would have been a sin to miss it." He took a few quick snaps of us before stepping into the shadows of the lighthouse room.

"Was he there the entire time?"

"I honestly don't know," Spencer admitted. He took his seat, "we should finish eating."

"Does something good happen afterwards?"

He paused a moment, "yea."

I frowned, but as my brain was too blissed out to think up anything beyond loud shrieks of joy, I let it go.

I should not have let it go.

"I don't count this as something good!" I snarled at Spencer through the noise of everyone singing the "Happy Birthday" song. And I mean everyone.