True to her word, just a few minutes later she burst into Matthew’s bedroom, shutting the door quickly behind her as if she didn’t want me to see or hear the goings on in the rest of the house.
“I can’t tell you anything,” she said in greeting, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
“Tell me one thing,” I pleaded.
“Maybe. Depends on what it is.”
“Does Matthew know what’s going on?”
My question brought a gale force of laughter from my friend. “I sure hope so.”
I stared at her, willing her with my eyes to fill me in, but she stayed strong.
“Nope,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, “that’s all you’re getting. Now when do I need to put the stuff in the oven?”
“You’ve got a while yet. Unless my dad’s on his way now, too, and we’re going to have Thanksgiving breakfast instead.”
“He may show up a little early,” she hedged.
I let out a small growl of frustration that amused her. So much for this being my event to pull off. The planning had been taken over by everyone else and things were spiraling out of control. To think that Matthew had some kind of hand in this only made things worse. He knew how much of a perfectionist I was. Then again, so did Gracie and she wasn’t firmly on my side, either.
“Breathe,” she commanded, “everything’s going to be just fine.”
“You know I hate surprises,” I complained.
“Not this one.” Again with that cat that ate the canary grin. I kind of wanted to slap it right off of her face. “Go take a shower. It’s time to get ready.”
She perched down on Matthew’s bed and crossed her legs, settling in for the long haul.
“Too bad he doesn’t have a television in here. Or some magazines or something.”
“It’s a bedroom, not a waiting room in a dentist’s office.”
“Just hurry up. When you’re done, I’ll help you with your hair and makeup.” She reached over and grabbed my wrist, examining my hand. “And we’ll do your nails.”
“And while we’re playing beauty shop, what are Blake and Matthew going to be doing? He’s got to get ready, too.”
She shrugged, unconcerned. “He’s got another bathroom. Plus, he’s a guy. He’ll be ready in like fifteen minutes. Hot as usual. Oh, did I say that out loud?”
I snorted and headed to the master bathroom. I could tell it would do me no good to argue. Whatever scheme the three of them were up to, it was already set in motion. I was now merely along for the ride.
I turned the water in the shower up as hot as it would go, relaxing my now tense muscles under the pulse of the showerhead. Whatever was about to happen to me today couldn’t be as bad as last year, I reasoned. Everyone had been all smiles and coy glances so far, as if this was something good. Deep down in my stomach I didn’t feel a sense of foreboding, either. What was the worst that could happen? Even if Blake went all out with the decorating today and did something crazy like paint the entire house brown and orange, it could still be undone. Plus, I didn’t think Matthew would let her do that. She had him wrapped around her little finger, but there were limits.
Once the hot water had disappeared, I shut off the shower and wrapped myself in a big, fluffy towel. After a cursory attempt at drying off, I went back into the bedroom to find Gracie still in her position on the bed. She was facing the bathroom door, her eyes trained on me when I came out. God love her, she was taking this security detail thing seriously.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked me, gesturing to the brown dress laid out on the bed beside her.
I took a moment to assess her appearance, comparing my choice to what she had on. Instead of her usual uniform of leggings or jeans, she had on a dress. I was fairly sure that this was unprecedented. I couldn’t ever remember seeing her in a dress or skirt before and found myself wondering if she’d bought the outfit just for this occasion.
“No, I was just lazy and didn’t feel like putting it away. Yes, that’s what I’m wearing. Do you approve?”
She bit her lip and pretended to think for a moment. “I suppose it will do.”
She snatched it up by its hanger and followed me back into the bathroom. With her back turned, I slid it on and studied myself in the full length mirror. I didn’t know what she was talking about; it looked good enough to me. A knee length flowing skirt attached to a bodice with cap sleeves, it wasn’t overly dressy but still a notch above what I’d thought I’d be wearing.
“I’m good now,” I confirmed.
She spun around and nodded, pleased enough with the result. “I think I can work with that.” She pointed to the vanity. “Sit.”
I did as instructed, letting her do my nails first so that they could dry while she concentrated on the rest. Though I was perfectly capable of getting myself ready, she insisted that she handle things. I indulged her, feeling like I owed her that much for all that she’d put up with from me in the last few years. It helped that I trusted her implicitly and knew that she wouldn’t make me look like a clown.
She was in the middle of curling my hair when her cell chirped with a text message. I hadn’t noticed that she’d brought it in with her, but there it was, resting on the counter. She set down the curling iron to view the message. After a quick glance at the screen, she nodded and resumed doing my hair.
“Your dad’s here,” Gracie said nonchalantly as she wound a lock of hair around the barrel.
“What? He’s super early and nothing’s ready. You haven’t put anything in the oven yet. The turkey’s still ice cold. This is terrible.”
“Oh, hon,” she said, “everything will be ready as soon as you are. The food’s definitely second fiddle today.”
“But it’s Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is all about the food.”
“Or is it?” she asked cryptically.
I sighed and frowned like a petulant teenager.
“Now stop it,” she scolded, “you’ll ruin your makeup.”
I did my best to relax my features and waited patiently as she completed her masterpiece.
“There,” she said finally, spinning my chair toward the mirror, “now you’re done.”
For a moment, I simply stared at my reflection. She’d done a magnificent job. My taste in makeup was well-noted and she’d copied that masterfully. She’d focused the attention on my eyes, just as I would have done, lining them dramatically in kohl. But what was most striking was the hair. Now long enough to hold a curl, it hung in loose ringlets around my face. So totally unlike how I usually wore it, yet so fitting for what I was wearing.
“You’re beautiful, hon,” she stated.
“Thank you,” I breathed, “for what I don’t know. But thanks anyway.”
She squeezed my shoulder. “You’re welcome. Now wait here for a second. I’ve got to make sure everything is ready.”
“Okay.” There was really nothing else that I could say. Since I had no idea what was going on, I just went with it.
Gracie excused herself while I stayed firmly planted in my seat at the vanity. I heard the bedroom door latch behind her. As I waited for her to return, I noticed that she’d grabbed her cell back off of the counter and taken it with her, lest I decided to snoop while she was gone.
Within minutes, I heard the door open and she reappeared.
“It’s show time,” she said simply, extending her hand to help me up.
“You’re not walking me to my death, are you?” I whispered as she escorted me down the hallway.
“Quite the opposite,” she whispered back, “I’m leading you to the rest of your life.”
“I’ve had just about enough of the riddles for the day,” I quipped as she led me through the kitchen. So far nothing looked out of the ordinary and though I knew three other people were here, I’d seen no one else.
She stopped at the french doors leading to the patio, throwing them open and pushing me outside. “Out you go!” she laughed, clearly pleased wit
h herself. Before I had a chance to react, she closed the doors and I distinctly heard the latch turn, locking me out of the house.
I spun around, disoriented. She was damn lucky this was an unseasonably warm November in Indiana. If it would have been as cold as last year, she’d have hell to pay once I tramped clear through the yard and let myself back in via the garage.
The toe of my shoe brushed something lying on the concrete. For a split second, I was afraid that I’d come up close and personal with one of the woodland creatures that Matthew claimed frequented the backyard. I slammed my eyes shut and pried them open tentatively. If she’d made me kick a squirrel, I’d scream bloody murder before I killed her. Fortunately for her, upon further investigation it turned out to be just a flower.
An iris.
Or rather a hundred or so of them, littered over the patio like the contents of a florist’s shop had been brought to his house and dumped by the swimming pool. So maybe dumped wasn’t the correct word choice, their placement was much more deliberate than that. But I was in shock, or awe, or some other emotion that caused me not to think straight.
My eyes followed the trail of irises as they were obviously meant to, sweeping across the patio until they stopped at a pair of shoes. I looked upward, my actions coming in slow motion.
And then I saw him. Blake had obviously made him shower and shave and he was wearing his contacts, but his just-fucked hair was gloriously intact. He was dressed more formally than I’d ever seen him, wearing a pair of black dress pants and a white button down shirt. His eyes were firmly focused on me, giving me the same once-over.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said almost shyly. His voice cracked with emotion and a shiver ran down my spine.
He held out his hand, an invitation for me to come closer. Still staring into those captivating blue eyes, I closed the distance between us, taking his hand in both of mine. Out of my peripheral vision I could see Gracie, Blake and Dad gathered on the lawn, cameras at the ready. My heart accelerated; internally I knew what was coming but mentally I wasn’t able to process it yet.
“You look so beautiful,” he whispered.
“You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He grinned, a blush spreading across his cheeks. His bashfulness was so unlike him, so disarming and endearing all at the same time. His hand trembled in mine; I squeezed it.
“I’m so damn nervous,” he admitted.
“Don’t be. Pretend I’m the only one here.”
He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, then cleared his throat.
“Lauren,” he began, pronouncing my name reverently like always, “I’ve wanted to ask you something for a long time. If it doesn’t sound too corny, since the day we met. In my sister’s driveway. You remember, right?”
I nodded. “Of course I do.”
“From the moment that I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one. But for the longest time, you weren’t mine to have. And someone else asked you the same thing that I wanted to. You turned him down, but I was too stupid to realize what you’d done. And you slipped through my fingers and that loss very nearly killed me.
“By some stroke of luck, you came back into my life. And I vowed to myself that I would never lose you again. I told myself that not a day would go by that you wouldn’t understand how much I love you, how much I’ve always loved you. I think I’ve done okay with that promise, but I want to give you more. You deserve so much more, my beautiful soulmate who knows me better than anyone else and still manages to love me anyway.”
Hot tears slid down my cheeks as he bent down on one knee. As he reached into his pocket, my mind flashed back to the scene in front of Blake’s Christmas tree when he’d assumed the same position. At that time, I’d imagined him proposing, him saying the words of love that he now spoke. The reality of it was a thousand times better than anything I could have ever dreamed up.
As he held the ring up for me to inspect – though I could barely see it through the haze of my own emotions and besides, it wouldn’t have mattered what it looked like – he laughed softly.
“Who’d have thought that you’d get two marriage proposals from two different guys in the course of a calendar year? And given your response to the previous one, I’m kind of playing the odds here.”
I giggled nervously, caught between wanting him to get on with it and never wanting the moment to end.
“But anyway, I digress. Lauren Marie Jefferies, I love you more than life itself. I want to promise you forever. I think you already know that you have everything that’s mine, everything that I am, but I want the world to know, too. Would you please, please, spare me the horror of looking like an idiot in front of all of these people and agree to be my wife?”
My answer was quick, without hesitation, just like I’d always imagined it would be when the time – and the suitor – was right. There were no spreadsheets or debates or compromises involved; only the knowledge that I would follow this man anywhere and everywhere he asked me to go. I’d known in my heart the answer for just as long as he’d wanted to ask the question. To hear it come from my lips was the single most glorious word I’d ever spoken. The greatest gift I could ever give him.
I told him yes.
Epilogue
Chris Taylor waited. It was something that he was relatively good at, waiting. Especially for this very moment in time. What had it been, eight years?
So here he was, sitting in her old car. Parked not directly outside of her yellow house, but close enough that he could see it through his windshield. He’d had the presence of mind to pull around the cul-de-sac and park behind another car so if she wasn’t looking she probably wouldn’t see him. And why in the hell would she be looking?
He was lucky that it was Thanksgiving and the street was littered with cars, resembling a parking lot more than a residential side street. This way he could go unnoticed by her neighbors and they wouldn’t report him as some crazy stalker guy. Yeah, Will would get a kick out of that police report.
Darkness had started to fall over the city, that in between time of day when the sky got slightly dim but the streetlamps didn’t yet fire up. To be honest, he didn’t think newer additions like this one even had streetlamps. Everyone here just had those dusk-to-dawn porch lamps and the solar powered landscaping lights.
His fingers clenched and unclenched the steering wheel. She should be home by now. She’d been at Matthew’s all day, celebrating her brother’s proposal to Lauren. Okay, he didn’t know for a fact that Lauren had accepted, but he felt it in his gut that she would. That and the fact that Matthew hadn’t called him fraught with despair and agony.
Chris’s mind instinctively flashed to the engagement ring he’d bought himself. Nowhere near as pretty or elaborate as the one that Blake had custom designed for Matthew to give to his intended, it was buried in the back of his underwear drawer. Yellow gold, not a combination of platinum and rose gold, the diamond struggling to weigh in at a third of a carat instead of a full one. Yet purchased with the same breathless anticipation, the same promise of forever. Now it sat wrapped in a tissue, a glittering beacon of his failure, of things that had never been and never would be.
Many times he had told himself to get rid of it. Those times were usually toward the end of the month when he was running low on cash and he knew rent would be due just around the corner. He’d even gotten as far as the parking lot of the pawn shop before. But he could never bring himself to do it. He’d just shove it back in his pocket, take it home and replace it amongst his boxer briefs.
Getting rid of it would be admitting to himself that she was gone.
Just like he fooled himself into believing that he still drove her old car because it was paid off. Because it got good gas mileage. Because it got him from Point A to Point B reliably. No, he drove it because it used to be hers. Because he could still close his eyes and see her in the driver’s seat, could still hear her laughter bouncing off the interior, could still pretend that he could s
mell that perfume she used in high school.
Headlights approaching made him snap to attention. He almost discounted them, knowing that she drove a little two door sports car now and not a truck. But this vehicle pulled into her driveway and the garage door lifted to allow it access. He saw the back end of her red convertible, then saw the driver’s side door of the black Trailblazer open prior to the garage door closing and cutting off any further view.
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel again. This time it wasn’t from boredom or worry. This time it was pure adrenaline. He was breathing quickly now, his pulse pounding in his ears.
He should go. He should turn the key in the ignition and drive off, leave her alone like she’d begged him to do so long ago. Or maybe he should take her advice and try rotting in hell. Either option would be better received than the one he was considering.
But instead of fleeing, of heeding his body’s cues, he stayed right where he was. He closed his eyes and focused on calming himself down, on lowering his blood pressure to a more reasonable level. He wouldn’t do his cause any good if he ran up to her door like a mad man. Even if that’s what he was.
Lights flipped on in the yellow house. Chris imagined her walking through the residence, maybe kicking off her shoes as she entered. Putting down her purse on the kitchen counter or on the table like most women did. Didn’t people know that purses were a breeding ground for germs? He snickered when he remembered that she didn’t cook anyway. Therefore things like that didn’t matter. Maybe she’d go to the bathroom and wash off her makeup, tie her hair up in a ponytail now that she was home for the night.
He let her go about her business, whatever that was, as he composed himself. He sure didn’t want her to think that he’d been following her or worse yet, waiting. Of course that was the case, but she didn’t have to know. He could just pretend that he’d been in the neighborhood. Yes, that seemed like a plan.
After about fifteen minutes of psyching himself up, he opened the driver’s side door. A wave of nausea swept over him and he clutched the roof of the Civic for support. He’d blame it on too much turkey if he could, but he knew it was all nerves. Doing his best to shake it off, he strode purposefully across the street and up her driveway.
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