One More Time(49)

I run into Kevin, the line producer, en route to the sushi station. They don’t skimp at SNL, which is always nice. “Hey, man,” he says, “Any interest in a beer? Some of us are hitting the club.”

I consider it for a moment, wondering if I ought to just go and stop mooning around. “Nah, thanks, though. I’m going to get back to the hotel early tonight so I can make sure I talk to my girlfriend before I hit the sack.”

“Girlfriends,” Kevin says. “They’re good with those short leashes.”

I smile and shrug, but I’m not complaining about my leash.

Then he asks, “So you and Jenna Stahl are officially back together?”

He has to ask because I haven’t specified that fact. I now realize that I’ve talked about Janner, but I haven’t said anything about Jenna and I being a couple again. And I really shouldn’t, not without talking to her, seeing as I was the one who said we should take it slowly as far as the public goes.

I’m so caught off guard that I respond by bumbling, “Well, I don’t…we just…ten years ago we were…you know…everyone knows, but now. I don’t know. We’re figuring it out.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool,” Kevin replies with a very confused look on his face. And then he slips away.

I don’t blame the guy.

I instantly realize how dumb I look and sound, and more importantly feel. Why the fuck have I been keeping things so wait and see with Jenna when I know how I feel? We’ve said we loved each other. I’ve loved her years before we arrived on that film set together. And now I’m going to play games? This is exactly the kind of bullshit that ruined my relationship with Jenna the first time around, and I don’t want to do that shit anymore. I don’t want to wait and see.

I want to put a ring on it.

Holy shit. I want to marry Jenna!

The minute I allow myself to think that massive thought, another idea pops into my head. I look down at my watch. It’s just after seven. I do a quick Google search to find out if I can make it where I now know I need to go ASAP.

Yep. Still open.

And then I walk right up to the director and say, “I need to run an errand. I’ll be back.” I don’t wait for a reply. I’m playing that diva actor card I hate, but it’s totally worth it.

Fifteen minutes later I’m standing in front of the diamond engagement rings display at Tiffany & Co. on Fifth Avenue. It’s the flagship store, the one from Breakfast at Tiffany’s, one of Jenna’s favorite movies of all time. For our first Halloween together she went as Holly Golightly in her sexy white button down shirt and eye mask get-up, and I was Paul Varjak in a vintage suit Jenna snagged for me at a costume shop. That night Jenna had said, with a wink, “If I ever get engaged I want it to be with a diamond from Tiffany’s. The real one.”

She probably never thought it would take ten years, but better late than never. Especially if you have the chance to get it just right.

“Tell me what you’re looking for, sir,” the shop girl says to me. She’s young, maybe twenty-five, and has the kind of trendy style that makes me think she’s up on her magazine reading. And that makes me think she knows Jenna Stahl.

And probably me.

“Hi,” I say, deciding to just lay it all out there. “I’m Tanner James.”

“I know,” she says with a smile. “It’s an honor to have you in, Mr. James.”

I’m relieved that she’s a professional and not fangirling the way some people do when they meet me. “Tanner, please.”

“What are you shopping for today?”

“An engagement ring,” I say, and her face lights up.

“For Jenna?” she whispers.

Damn. I’m suddenly worried about the paparazzi. About this salesgirl letting word slip about what I’m doing. Just my luck, TMI would blow my proposal before I got a chance to pop the question.

The girl in front of me seems to sense my concern. “Don’t worry, Mr. James. Uh, Tanner. I would never tell anyone about anything you purchase or who it’s for. Not only would I lose my job, but I also wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Thank you.” I have a feeling she’s telling the truth, but I’m not going to throw all my faith in the stranger—I’ve been burned before. I realize it doesn’t matter, though. Jenna knows not to believe anything TMI says anymore. It will still be a surprise.

So though I don’t say Jenna’s name, I don’t correct the salesgirl. “Do you think you could help me find something just right for her?” I ask.

“Oh, I know I can.” Immediately, she starts opening cases and pulling out rings.

It only takes us twenty minutes to find the perfect option. The third ring Jessica, the shop girl, tries on is a vintage-inspired stunner called The Audrey.

“Boom,” I say. “That’s the one.” The perfect ring for my perfect girl.

“Yep,” she replies. “That’s the one. I just showed it to you third and not first because people are weird about buying the first thing they see. I guess it just takes some people a little longer to decide on things.”

“Story of my life,” I say.

The look on her face tells me she knows exactly what I mean.

I start to walk back to Thirty Rock with a little Tiffany blue bag in my hands and what I’m sure is a dumb-in-love look on my face. Two blocks in I realize I should probably hide the bag, as well as my smile, in case any paparazzi are lingering on Fifth Avenue. I definitely want to surprise Jenna, and the longer I take to propose, the harder it will be to keep it secret. Besides, I don’t think I can sit on this for very long. I want to do it soon after I’m back in LA. And I want to get back to LA as fast as humanly possible.