The Fall in Love Checklist

by Sarah Ready

  I throw a shovelful of dirt at her.

  “Hey,” she squeaks.

  “Watch it,” I say.

  She chortles evilly. Then she makes calf eyes and kissy faces at me. What have I unleashed?

  I let out a long-suffering sigh.

  “Anyway. Why aren’t you riding after her on horseback with sword drawn and a bunch of flowers?” she asks.

  “You have a weird idea of romance,” I say.

  “Call her. Apologize for whatever stupid thing you did.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  I run my hand over my face.

  “Ew. You smeared dirt all over,” she says.

  “Go away, Sis.”

  “Call her,” she says. She holds a hand phone up to her ear. “Call her and tell her you looove her.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I say.

  “Why not? You’ve got manstipation? Constipation of your emotions?”

  A laugh is startled from me.

  Then I sober. “She’s better off without me.”

  “Dude. Not this again. I’m going to shoot straight because clearly you need it. You were a kid. Whatever you think you did, it wasn’t your fault. Your mom was unhappy. Then she died. Aunt Flo was a dick. Dad, clearly, is still a wad. It isn’t your fault. None of it is your fault. There’s nothing to make up for. You’ve got me. And Dany, if you can get over your manstipation and go after her.”

  I punch the shovel into the ground again and dump another load of dirt.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, mimicking her favorite phrase. I hear what she’s saying but can’t believe it’s that simple.

  I decide I’m done in the garden. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I have to figure out how to win the bid over Boreman’s shopping mall.”

  “Sorry again, about that. Let me fix it,” she starts.

  “No. No way,” I say.

  “But it’s not right. He’s a creeper. And shady. There were some weird files in his office. I could dig up some dirt. Hack—”

  “No hacking.” I say.

  She blows out a long breath then concedes. “Okay. I’m sorry, I really was trying to help.” She looks down at the ground, the picture of humble contrition.

  “I know. Next time you help though, stay within the law.”

  “Seriously,” she says.

  I can’t help but smile at her.

  “You think Dany will marry the dick?” she asks. She toes at the pile of dirt. Doesn’t look at me.

  I pick up the shovel and start digging again. Slicing it into the ground.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Bummer.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Sissy goes inside and I finish up.

  When done, I head back in.

  The house is completely renovated. Done.

  I avoid looking at the walls Dany helped paint, the molding she sanded, the decorations she picked out.

  The outside is being painted next week. It’s all ready. I realize now that I was preparing it for my family. That even if I hadn’t admitted it, deep inside I knew.

  I was building a home.

  42

  Dany

  * * *

  I walk into the hospital for my last day of chemo.

  I made it.

  I survived.

  I hope that I’ve thrived.

  I see Dave in a wheelchair by the window. He waves me over.

  “Found me a kidney yet?” he asks.

  I hold up my hands. “Nope. No kidney.”

  He shrugs, “Oh well. Such is life. Where’s that friend of yours? The sweet woman that liked cats.”

  “Matilda? She died.” I say.

  “I’m sorry. I liked her. Sweet as a peach.”

  I smile. “That she was.”

  He looks over the parking lot. “I had a girl like her once. Best time of my life.”

  I stand next to him and look at the cars all lined up in their parking spots.

  “Maybe after you get your kidney, you can go and have another best time,” I say.

  “You bet. I’ll go to New Zealand. I’ve always wanted to dive with the great whites there.”

  Talk about lists.

  “Wow. Well. This is my last day of chemo. So, I won’t be seeing you. Good luck with everything.”

  “Thank you. You as well,” he says.

  I wave goodbye then head up to the chemotherapy lounge.

  The girls are all there. And surprisingly, so is my mom. She’s sitting in Matilda’s spot. Funny enough, that sends a happy warmth through me.

  She smiles at me sheepishly as I sit down in my chair and get hooked up.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d come and support you,” she says.

  “Of course,” I say. And for the first time “of course” is not just the right thing to say—it’s what I want to say. I’m so glad she’s here.

  “Well, this is it. Your last treatment,” says Sylvie.

  “I’m in the clear,” I say.

  For a bit we chat about our future plans. Cleo has decided to join Gregory in a dance troupe. Sylvie is going to take a cruise with her grandkids. Gerry is considering traveling the world. I’m planning on taking classes in landscape architecture. I’ve found my career.

  Then, “I saw your young man at the chapel,” says Sylvie.

  Yeah, I’d been giving that a lot of thought. A lot of thought.

  Shawn’s left a dozen messages asking me to call. Yesterday, I did. I told him politely that I couldn’t marry him. He took it surprisingly well.

  “About that,” I say.

  All eyes turn to me.

  “Remember my list?” I ask.

  “Yes,” says Gerry.

  “Bungee jumping,” my mom huffs disapprovingly.

  “Well, I have one item left…a wedding on the beach.”

  “If you say with Shawn, I will take this IV pole and throw it at you,” says Gerry.

  “What?” I say.

  “Darling,” says my mom. I look over at her. She’s leaning forward earnestly. “If you follow my horrible, awful, stupid advice to pursue Shawn, I will order a tray of red hospital Jell-O and dump it on your head and then ground you for a month.”

  “Ground me? I’m twenty-four. And what’s with you guys thinking I want Shawn?”

  “Well, dear, there was that bit about Hawaii,” says Sylvie.

  “Bah, Hawaii,” says Cleo.

  “Granted. I had a moment. I was scared. I’m not anymore,” I say.

  I look around the room at my friends, my family, and I smile.

  “You guys showed me that I was afraid of being me, even showing anyone who I was. I’m not scared anymore. There’s no mask. There’s just me. I love myself just as I am, in this moment. Right here.” I press my hand to my heart. It just happens to be beneath my mastectomy scar.

  “Finally. She gets it,” says Cleo.

  I laugh. “So here’s the deal. I want to finish number ten on my list. I want to marry Jack.”

  My heart lurches when I say it out loud. Because the thing is, I’m not certain he’ll say yes.

  There’s a general gasp. Then everyone talks at once.

  “On the beach?” asks my mom.

  “Has he asked you?” asks Gerry.

  “That’s wonderful, dear,” says Sylvie.

  I address each statement, “Right. Thank you, Sylvie. And yes, on the beach. And no, he hasn’t asked me.”

  “My experience, Miss, is that a man likes to propose.”

  “That’s true,” says Gerry.

  Who said that? I look around the room. Karl nods at me from a folding chair in the corner.

  “I brought Karl,” my mom stage whispers.

  I shake my head in amazement.

  “Okay,” I say. “Hi, Karl.”

  “Hello, Miss,” he says. He tips his hat to me.

  Warmth fills me at his familiar words. I say something that I’ve
never said. “Thank you, Karl. You know. For always being there,” I say.

  “My pleasure, Miss,” he says.

  I turn back to the girls. “Okay. So, here’s the thing. I have to try. I have to let Jack know how I feel. The way we left things, I wasn’t completely honest with him. I didn’t tell him how much he means to me. You see, he and I made this deal. I’d help him renovate his house, help convince this committee to approve his project, and he’d help me finish my list. I’m going to hold him to our bargain. I’m going to marry him.”

  “You’re off your rocker,” says Cleo.

  I shrug. Sure, I might scare him off. He may think I’m crazy and reject me. But then again, this is me, who I am, and I’m going to take a chance and invite Jack to come along for the ride. I’m not scared to show my true self anymore.

  “It makes perfect sense to me,” says Gerry. “I love a woman who pursues a man.”

  “David’s not real,” says Cleo in a long-suffering voice.

  Gerry rolls her eyes.

  I sit up straighter in my chair and clear my throat for attention. It feels like a grand speech sort of moment. I look at everyone and start.

  “Thank you all for being there for me. Your friendship means so much. And right now, I’m asking for your help. It’s sort of crazy, and maybe a little romantic. I need your help getting Jack to the beach. There, he can make his decision.”

  “My word,” says Sylvie.

  “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” asks my mom.

  I grin at her.

  My mom doesn’t take any time to consider. “Darling, I’m in. I’ll do whatever you need.”

  “Bah, I’ll do it,” says Cleo.

  “Yes,” says Gerry. She claps her hands in glee.

  “I’ll drive if you need, Miss,” says Karl.

  I send him a grateful salute.

  Sylvie is the last to respond.

  “Dear, are you sure? He might say no. It could hurt. Rejection can be heartbreaking,” she says. She looks down at her knitting.

  I see the pinch of sadness in her eyes.

  I look around the room at each of my friends.

  “I’m sorry for what I said to all of you the other day. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Sylvie, I bet you’re an amazing grandma. Cleo, you are the most funny, fiery lady I know. Gerry, I know you’ve lived a wonderful life. Please forgive me.”

  “Bah, stupid girl, we forgave you the minute you said it,” says Cleo.

  “Really?” I ask.

  They all talk at once, assuring me.

  I feel buoyed by their support.

  Finally, Sylvie says, “Dear, you’re sure about Jack?”

  I am. I’ve reached the point of no return. A firm decision. It feels right. Crazy, but right.

  “I have to try. I know who I am now, and I know that I won’t forgive myself if I don’t at least try.”

  Sylvie nods. “Then I’ll support you, my dear.”

  A slow grin spreads over my face.

  “Okay. Then here’s what we’re going to do…” I lay out a plan that requires mad knitting skills, six dozen sprinkle donuts, a hot-air balloon, a wedding coordinator, and a cat.

  “I’ve booked the pavilion on the beach for tomorrow. We have twenty-four hours. Think we can pull it off?” I ask.

  “Do peaches ripen in July?” asks Gerry.

  I shake my head.

  “Jeez, bah,” says Cleo.

  Sylvie shakes her head. “No one knows, dear, no one knows.”

  “Yes, the answer is yes,” says Gerry.

  “Oh, good. Then let’s do this,” I say.

  There’s a cheer.

  My team is assembled. We’ve got a wedding to create and a groom to kidnap.

  43

  Jack

  * * *

  It’s D-day. Decision day for the Downtown Development Committee. Dany’s father is here. Mr. Atler slaps him on the back as they chat about golf. Shawn’s here. He’s talking with Ms. Smith and looking self-assured.

  For weeks I tried to contact Dany’s father to pitch my proposal, but he was always out of town on business and not returning calls. I sent emails and called his offices, I met with local engineers, builders, and every mover and shaker I could think of. Nothing came to fruition. So, I’m here to try one last time to convince the board of my vision, based on nothing but my hard work, passion, and the belief that I’m doing what’s right.

  Shawn walks over and crowds my space.

  “I have the votes. I’m going to win,” he says. He has a satisfied smile on his face.

  I don’t doubt it.

  It’s funny, I came into this project hoping for absolution and pushing away love. Now, I won’t have either.

  I turn my head away from Shawn’s gloating. I relax my hands and roll my shoulders.

  “Would you believe that I envied you?” he asks. He rocks back on his heels and puts his hands in his pockets. We both look at the committee members mingling in the last few minutes before the quarterly meeting begins.

  I remain silent.

  “I admit, it lacked foresight when I let go of Daniella. I didn’t realize how crucial she was to me.” I move to walk away. I don’t need to hear this. But Shawn holds out his hand.

  “She said no,” he says.

  I stop. Shocked. “She said no,” I repeat.

  “We both know why,” he says. “Look, Jones. I have an offer for you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He gives me a shrewd look.

  “I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You can win your Rose Tower Project. Here, today. I know it’s personal. I’ve heard how much it means to you.” He knows about the fire. He’s talking about absolution. “I’ll make you the most successful developer in the state. Back you. Fund you. I’ll even help your precocious little sister get into the Ivy League of her choice. I’ll give so much, for so little. All I ask is that you walk away from Daniella. Tell her goodbye. Never speak to her again. Let her come back to me.”

  Blood thunders in my ears. I don’t understand.

  “Why?” I ask.

  Shawn steps toward me and lowers his voice.

  “Because I love her. Is that so difficult to understand? I love her and I want her back.” He’s breathing heavily and pointing his finger at my chest. I look down at his hand.

  He clears his throat and steps back. He loosens his tie.

  “I’ll give you everything you desire. Just step aside.”

  I shake my head, but he cuts me off.

  “Or, you can keep after her.” He looks down at his watch. “With the knowledge that in a short time, she’ll realize you can’t give her the life she wants. You can’t give her what she needs. She’ll leave you. Eventually. And I’ll be there. If you keep after her, I’ll make sure you never build in this city again. All your rehab projects, finished. Your bids, rejected. I’ll block your building permits. I’ll slow your bank loans. I’ll call in favors and cover you in red tape.”

  “Bull.” Anger and desperation sizzle through my veins. “You don’t have that kind of power.”

  A slow smile spreads over his face. “Yes, I do. I’ll also show the recording of your sister’s little adventure to the police. Poor criminally minded Sissy, breaking and entering carries a sentence of up to five years in our fair state. My friend the judge won’t be inclined to leniency. Do we understand each other?”

  Understanding coats me like smog-polluted air. I see the two paths before me. Never has making a decision hurt so much.

  Leave Dany and get what I always thought I wanted. Forgiveness. Absolution. Building homes for the city’s most vulnerable. I can finally go back in time and fix what happened. And Sissy…do I really want to go up against Shawn’s connections and political power?

  So. Leave Dany. Never tell her I love her. Never ask for a life together. And with that, all of my old dreams can come true. I’d have developments around the state, homes for countless families, and my ca
reer will be a success. Or I can tell Dany I love her, beg her to have me, and then Shawn will send Sissy to jail.

  Shawn smiles.

  He sees realization dawning on my face.

  “One more thing,” he says.

  “Yes?” I ask in a choked voice.

  “In case all this wasn’t enough to tempt you to the first option…if you go to Dany, I’ll tell her the truth about you.”

  I go cold. “What are you talking about?”

  “That you’ve only ever been interested in her for this bid. That you were told to woo her to win this bid. You don’t really love her, you’re a manipulative bastard only out for your own good. Mr. Atler, her father, they both know the truth and will back me.”

  I stumble back. “That’s not true.”

  “But who will she believe?” he asks. “Do you really want to take that chance? Chance your project, Sissy’s future, just for Daniella to realize you’re a two-faced manipulator who she can never love? Like I said, you aren’t good for her.”

  I press my hand to my heart. It hurts.

  I think of Dany. Her smile. Her love of life. The way I feel when I’m with her. How much I want to build a life with her. Is that potential future we could build together worth more than decades of striving for absolution? Of hundreds, maybe thousands, of families having safe, affordable homes? Is it worth Sissy going to prison for years?

  My heart once felt whole and hopeful. Now it feels broken.

  Shawn smiles. “What’s your choice?”

  44

  Dany

  * * *

  Exactly twenty-two hours later The Plan is in motion.

  And it looks like we really might pull it off.

  My mom’s at the beach pavilion. When I left her twenty minutes ago she was wrapping every vertical structure in tulle and twinkly lights. There are flowers, folding chairs, a sound system; and this is where she really shined, there’s also a pile of hors d’oeuvres and a three-tiered white chocolate raspberry wedding cake.

  I’m in a lace and tulle beach-style wedding dress.

  My walkie-talkie crackles.

  “The donuts are in place. Repeat, the donuts are in place,” says Gerry. She’s loving the four-way video feed walkie-talkies that Karl scored for us.