by Audra Cole
Chapter Two
“Hello, gorgeous!” James declares as he steps into the entryway.
“Thank you. Not too shabby yourself,” I reply, as I take the flowers from him and start towards the kitchen. “These are beautiful. Let me get these in water. One sec.”
He follows me to the kitchen, and leans against the doorframe while I retrieve a vase from a shelf above the sink. I take my time filling up the vase with water, trying to stop my hands from shaking. I can feel him watching me. I try to think of something to say, but the harder I try to think of something interesting, the more jumbled my thoughts become.
I set the flowers in the water, and throw away the plastic and tissue paper. I spend an extra moment fluffing the bouquet and picking at the arrangement. As I pick and obsess, he crosses the room and wraps his arms around me. He smells amazing, and I feel myself relax into his arms.
“How was your day?” I ask, without turning around.
“Long. I’m ready to kick back.” He leans in and nuzzles my neck. I turn into his embrace and kiss him. He runs his hands down to my hips and I silently thank God for whoever invented Spanx.
“I’ve been looking forward to this dinner all week,” he says, between kisses. “But I could be convinced to break our reservation, if you have something else in mind.”
I laugh and take a deep breath. I knew it! If he was really going to propose he wouldn’t be offering to cancel our dinner plans.
“Nope! You gotta buy me dinner first,” I say, as I pull away. “I did not get all dolled up for nothing.”
James laughs and backs up a couple of steps. “Fair enough.”
He helps me into my coat and leads me out to his car.
Dinner passes quickly, with effortless conversation and quite a few glasses of the house red. By the time dessert is served, all my previous paranoia has melted away. I feel relaxed and content—although that’s probably mostly thanks to the wine—but there’s still a question mark in the back of my mind as to what the ‘important conversation’ is supposed to be. We’ve talked about James’s work, his friend’s new condo, and the baby shower I am planning for my sister, Valerie. I wouldn’t really classify any of that as important, at least, not fancy dinner important.
A slice of decadent looking chocolate cake is set down in front of me. I suck in my stomach a little as I reach for my fork, and silently vow to do double time at the gym tomorrow.
Well, let’s not get too crazy. I’ll do an extra twenty minutes on the elliptical. Maybe.
Before I can take my first bite, James clears his throat.
Uh oh…
“So, Charity, there is one thing I wanted to ask you before the night is over.”
There it is…
I set my fork down.
He takes my hands and our eyes lock. I hope I don’t look as terrified as I suddenly feel. I honestly have no idea why the idea of a marriage proposal makes my insides turn to Jell-O, and not in the fun, tingly sort of way, but rather, in the unstable, mushy way.
As I study his suddenly solemn face, I know that I do love him, and that I have for quite some time. He is thoughtful, affectionate, intelligent, and above all, super stable: Everything a girl could ask for. I know he would always treat me right, and do his best to make me happy. He wants kids someday and would be an amazing dad.
As I run through this mental checklist, I begin to wonder what’s wrong with me. I should be tearing through bridal magazines and picking out china patterns already.
“In a nutshell, I feel like things with us have been really good,” he begins.
In a nutshell? That’s a helluva of a way to begin a proposal.
He continues, “I’m starting to put together some plans and, while we have a few months until August, I didn’t want to presume anything and make the wrong decision.”
Huh?
I’m not sure what the month of August has to do with anything, and if he thinks I can plan an entire wedding in less than four months he needs a serious reality check. I nod along like I know what he is talking about and try to smile, although I’m pretty sure I just look nauseous.
James doesn’t seem to notice. “I know we both agreed not to rush into anything and that we were going to take this whole thing slow, but I have completely fallen in love with you, Charity and I think it is time to take things to the next level. I really think the next step is—”
“James, hold on.”
He looks confused, and stops speaking.
“I don’t really know how else to say this, but I’m not ready to get married or to even start talking about getting married. Things have been going really well between us. Trust me, you are everything a girl could dream of. I mean really, you could go on the Bachelorette and totally win or at least be the next Bachelor!”
What on earth am I talking about?
“Not that I want you to do that. Okay, wait, forget that whole thing.”
He looks completely bewildered but my mouth won’t stop moving.
“What I’m trying to say is that you’re great, amazing, but I’m not ready to get serious, at least not that serious,” I explain, rapid-fire.
James releases my hands and leans back into his chair. “Wow. That’s not what I was expecting.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. I care about you so much, I really do,”
“Charity, I uh, I wasn’t proposing to you. I was going to ask if you wanted to rent a beach house together for a few weeks in August. I have a bunch of vacation time, and I thought it could be kind of a trial basis to see if we would want to move in together down the line, a little ways.”
I feel like someone just dumped ice cold water over my head. How could I be so impulsive? “Oh, wow. Well that makes more sense,” I begin. My voice trails off, unsure of what to say next. “I guess the, uh, atmosphere, just made it seem like something else.”
James looks around the restaurant as if seeing the candlelit tables, expensive bottles of wine, and people in fancy attire for the first time. As he takes it all in, he seems to have a light bulb moment. He lowers his head and shakes it slowly. “I’m sorry, Charity. I didn’t even consider that. Some people at work were raving about this place, so I thought we could try it out. I didn’t mean to lead you on like that.”
I never grew up wishing I had a super power, but in this moment, the ability to disappear would really come in handy.
“Excuse me.” I push back in my chair and stand up, carefully smoothing down the back of my dress, this dinner is turning out to be a big enough fiasco without adding a wardrobe malfunction into the mix.
I start towards the restrooms but change my direction midway and head for the front doors of the restaurant. I can hear James call after me, but I just keep walking.
Chapter Three
I make it outside and quickly realize two very important things. First of all, James drove us to the restaurant, so unless I want to get a cab—not cheap when you are thirty plus miles from home—I’ll have to wait outside for him and pick up where we left off. Second, I forgot to pick up my coat from the coat check. Seattle, in April, is not an ideal time to be coatless.
I get to the corner in front of the restaurant and begin to pace, to stay warm and to try and formulate a plan. I figure I have a good five to ten minutes to plan my next move, as James will have to settle the bill and collect our coats before he can get outside again. The question is what do I want to do? Do I want to stay and talk to him? Can we pretend like none of this ever happened and go about our evening? Or do I want to cut my losses and walk away?
Actually, the bigger question is, why does it matter that he wasn’t going to propose? Half an hour ago I was on the verge of a mini-panic attack at the very idea. Now that I know that marriage is off the table—at least for now—I should feel better. Right?
I shake my head and rub my arms.
What is wrong with me?
“Charity! What the hell? Why did you run off like that?” James jog
s to catch up with me. His voice is raised, but controlled. I can’t tell if he’s angry or just concerned. He grabs my arm and turns me around. His face is a strange mix between irritation and panic.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. I can’t even answer that question to myself, let alone to another person right now. I doubt even Ashley could make sense of my current mental state, and I’ve known her since kindergarten.
“It just seemed like the thing to do. I had to get out of there.”
He sighs and holds open my jacket for me. Grateful, I slip into the coat and tie the belt tightly around my waist. “Thank you.”
“Come on, let’s get you home. No sense making an even bigger scene out here,” he says, looking both ways down the street, as if worried other people are watching us.
A scene? He thought that was me making a scene? He obviously does not have much experience around hysterical women.
I shrug and follow a few steps behind, as he leads us to the valet to retrieve the car.
We don’t speak for the next ten minutes as we get into the car and start out towards the freeway. A strained silence hangs in the air, but neither of us appears to be willing to break it. Thoughts are pinging around my mind so fast that I can’t really seem to focus on one thought long enough to make sense of anything.
Is this the end? Are we breaking up? Or maybe we can just say goodnight, and start up tomorrow and forget about the entire thing. Which outcome would I prefer, if given the choice? I honestly have no idea. I don’t want to lose James, but I’m not sure what I want with him.
What is he even thinking right now? I wonder, as I study his profile.
He is focused on the road and his hands look tight on the steering wheel, although he kind of always drives like that. He’s not what you would call a casual Sunday driver. He’s always at attention and…tense.
Curiosity eventually gets the best of me. I take a deep breath and begin to formulate my question. “James, I—”
“What would be so wrong with getting married?” James says, turning to look at me briefly. His eyes are narrowed and intense. I close my mouth. “If that had been what I was going to ask you tonight? Why would that have been such a fiasco that you would feel the need to run for your life out into the freezing cold? If I hadn’t come outside at that moment, what were you going to do? Were you going to catch a cab and never speak to me again? Does our relationship really mean so little to you that you would throw it away because of a miscommunication?”
“No, that’s not it. James, I really do care about you. You have to believe me. I just think it’s too soon to be talking about marriage.”
Or cohabitation for that matter, but I am so not going to bring that up right now.
“That’s bullshit!” James explodes. I practically jump in surprise. He has never raised his voice at me in all the time we’ve spent together, not that I have ever really given him a reason to, but still…it seems out of character for him.
I open my mouth and try to think of something to say.
He apologizes, almost instantly. “I’m sorry, Charity. I just don’t know what’s going on right now. I’m not proposing at this moment, but I guess I didn’t realize that the very idea was so far-fetched that you would react like that. I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it, but I know you want to take this slow. But if you ask me, it’s not too soon. We have been together for almost a year and we’ve been really happy. At least I thought we were.”
He pauses and I try to offer a smile of agreement, although I feel like it comes out as a grimace.
“We see each other practically every other day and, before today, never seemed to have any real disagreements. So, please, just tell me what you’re really thinking. Why wouldn’t you marry me?”
“You’re not even asking me to marry you, so why does it matter?” I say, stalling for time to try and think of an answer.
His eyes are steely. “Please answer me, I have to know.”
I sigh. “There are some things I haven’t told you yet. About my past. I was engaged, once before, and it didn’t work out. He broke it off after the rehearsal dinner. We had to cancel everything and it was a big mess. It seemed to drag out forever. Gossip like that takes a long time to die down in a small town. It seemed like everywhere I went, people were talking about me. And then, just when I thought the nightmare had finally ended and I could move on with my life, his first movie came out and his face was everywhere. I had to relive it all over again. Moving on from a broken engagement is hard enough without those extra circumstances. I feel like I have lived in the shadow of the scandal for the past three years, and in that time I have built up some walls to keep from getting hurt again. I never want to go through that kind of pain again. I don’t think I could. So, I want to be sure, and as much as I care about you, I’m scared. I don’t want to make another mistake. I hope you understand.”
James is silent for a moment, seemingly absorbing my words. He reaches across the car and takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. I feel a little better, but we continue down the road in silence.
About ten minutes later, James finally speaks up again. “Earlier, when you were talking about your ex-fiancée, did you say he was in a movie? Who were you engaged to?”
“Brandon Hart,” I answer. The sound of his name stings, as it echoes in the emptiness of the car.
James takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Wow. I, uh, I had no idea.”
“I know. I’m sorry that I kept this from you. I just wanted to get away from all of it, so I don’t talk about it a lot. You aren’t from my town, and its nice being with someone outside the crazy bubble. I guess I didn’t want to lose that feeling, like I had a fresh start with you and didn’t need to unpack all that baggage.”
He nods, but I can see he’s still struggling to wrap his brain around everything.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
He focuses his eyes back on the road. “Let’s just get you home. We can sort this out later.”
I lean my head against the passenger window. The rest of the trip is silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
Chapter Four
I wake to the familiar screech of my alarm clock the next morning. I grope around the nightstand for a few moments before I find the snooze button. I roll over onto my back and take a deep breath.
I feel like I got hit by a truck. A really, really big one.
After a few more rounds with the snooze button, I leave the safety of my bed and stumble into the bathroom. I flick on the lights and, to my horror, discover that I also look like I got hit by a truck. I didn’t bother to take off my makeup last night, and after a good cry into my pillow, it smeared all over my face. My hair has fallen down and little bobby pins stick out at weird angles from the tangled mess that seems glued to the side of my head.
I’d take one hell of a mug shot right now.
A hot shower and a strong cup of coffee can usually cure my morning moodiness, but today it’s just not enough. I debate calling in sick to work and taking the day to wallow in my own misery, but I know that my boss would kill me if I skipped out on a Saturday, our busiest day. Plus, after yesterday’s shopping splurge, I could use the tip money.
My fancy little cocktail dress is lying on the floor in a rumpled pile. I sigh. Should have left the tags on…
I take the next twenty minutes to frantically scrub off last night’s makeup mess, pile my hair under a hat, and spackle on half a stick of deodorant in hopes that no one will notice I didn’t have time to shower.
I walk to work, since it’s only about half a mile away. This morning is dry but windy, and there is a definite chill in the air. I flip up the collar on my peacoat and tuck my chin down. The walk gives me just enough time to replay last night in my head. After we got back to my townhouse, James walked me to the door, but there was no long goodnight kiss or a promise that he would call. The whole thing felt very detached.
&
nbsp; Normally, he would have come in and probably would have stayed the night, rather than drive back into the city to his condo, especially since we had just been in the city for dinner. And normally, we would have made plans for the rest of the weekend. We might have gone to see a movie or cooked dinner together after I got off work tonight.
Nothing is normal right now. And reminding myself how things should be is only making me feel worse about our argument last night. I know I hurt him, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I cringe slightly as I remember some of the more painful moments.
I have no idea how to even start to work this out.
Luckily the day is busy enough that I am able to stay out of my own thoughts for the most part. The café I work at is small, but we’re one of the only places in town that is open for breakfast and lunch. There is one other coffee place, but they don’t serve anything other than bagels and muffins, which I have always suspected are store bought. We serve gourmet, fresh pastries that I bake each morning, and we also have a complete breakfast menu with pancakes, French toast, eggs, and bacon.
I have worked at the café for about three years, and I know it inside and out, which is fortunate since I am officially brain-dead today. I quickly get into my normal groove and go about the day like a coffee-pouring, sandwich-serving robot.
Around two o’clock things start to die down and Heidi, the owner of the shop, gives me a few minutes to have something to eat and rest my aching feet. I grab my phone and a sandwich and sit at one of the tables near the counter, in case I need to pop up and make a drink for someone. I check my text messages: there are three from Ashley, but nothing from James. Ashley also called twice and left a voicemail.
She is a persistent little thing.
I read her texts and have a flash of guilt for not calling her last night. I knew she would be dying to know what happened, but I hadn’t been in the mood to talk after James dropped me off.
I start to text her back and let her know I’ll come over to her house after work and give her the rundown. Before I can click send, I get a call from my mom.