“Beth, this is the last time I’m calling. I broke up with Tania – I know she wouldn’t be the kind of girl I want to be serious about in the future. You’re that kind of a girl, and I know it because you’re too classy to think about dating a guy with a girlfriend. I like you, Beth, and I want to explore this. So you’ve got a little time. Call me back, but I won’t be calling ever again.”
The message hadn’t exactly been flattering – was he only interested in me because I’d turned him down? But it had struck an odd chord with me, and I’d found myself thinking about him day after day in the next few days. Finally, I’d had a shot of vodka and then called him. Michael had asked me to dinner the next day, and the next week I was officially his girlfriend. I lost my virginity in a suite at the Plaza Hotel.
Whenever I was alone with Michael, our relationship seemed normal. We talked about our days, we talked about the kinds of things we wanted for the future. We could settle in a peaceful silence and it wasn’t bad – it was comfortable, the kind of thing that made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with him.
But whenever I was with Heather and her endless rotating cycle of boyfriends, or any of my other friends, or hell – even just another couple, I felt weird. I realized that they all had things in common that Michael and I had never even come close to. Heather and her boyfriends always had inside jokes. They would whisper something close to one another’s ear, leaning in until they were the only ones privy. They’d throw their heads back in synchronized laughter. They’d touch each other, resting a hand casually on the other’s thigh, or wrapping an arm around the other’s shoulders.
It had made me feel like something was really missing from my relationship. I’d made up my mind to talk to Michael about it immediately, but once I’d sat down with him, I completely lost my nerve. He was so quiet and so austere that I couldn’t think of how I could possibly approach a topic like this.
Finally, I screwed up my courage and asked.
“Michael, why aren’t we like other couples?”
He stared at me. “What are you talking about, Beth? We’re just like other couples.” Michael smiled, but somehow it only set me more on edge.
I frowned. “We’re not,” I said slowly. “We’re not the kind of couple who touches each other, or hugs. You don’t even kiss me good-bye when I leave.”
Michael snickered. “Normally, because you leave in the morning,” he said. “Your breath stinks, Beth. I won’t kiss you until you brush.”
“But don’t you love me?”
“Of course I do,” Michael said impatiently. “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be with you.”
“I’m not just talking about caring about me,” I said slowly. “I mean, like, do you really love me? Are you in love with me?”
Michael shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really know the difference. To me, they’re all the same thing.”
It had come as a blow. But when I’d talked to Heather about it, she said that I was just overreacting.
“You guys are fine,” she said. “I mean, not everyone is really affectionate. Come on, you’d probably get tired of someone pawing at you all the time. Sometimes I just need personal space, but it’s like guys can’t ever take their hands off me.”
“But what’s wrong with me?” I asked softly, glancing down at my hands in my lap.
“Nothing!” Heather laughed. “You have to relax, babe. I promise – everything’s fine. Just trust me, Michael is a reserved guy. He loves you, though.”
“I don’t know,” I said bleakly. “He admitted that he doesn’t think there’s a difference between caring for someone and loving them.”
Heather sighed. “Didn’t he just buy you a new car this year?”
I nodded.
“Well, would you buy a car for someone you don’t love?”
I looked at her blankly. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Heather burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t even buy a car for someone I do love,” she said, throwing her head back in laughter. “I mean, come on, Beth! You’re being silly!”
But I couldn’t shake the idea that Michael didn’t really love me. As time went on, I tried to ignore those feelings. He was good to me – whenever I needed something, he took care of it immediately and never asked me to pay him back. In fact, the few times I tried, he refused to accept the money. He said it was his priority to treat me right. I wished I could have told him that all the money in the world didn’t matter…I just wanted him to pick me up in his arms and give me a big kiss and tell me that I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
That wouldn’t happen, though. Michael was too pragmatic. And until we’d gotten together, I’d thought of myself as the same way.
Now it was hard to believe that I was shopping for our honeymoon. I looked at lingerie with Heather for another twenty minutes, finally picking a plain cotton chemise that was sheer at the front. I thought it was sexy, in kind of a classic way, even if Heather called it boring. At least it’s comfortable, I thought. And I won’t feel like a circus performer wearing it.
Heather sighed. “You done shopping?”
I nodded.
“But that’s the only thing you got,” she said, pointing down at the white bag. I cringed. It was labeled ‘Bride’ in fancy, flowing font. I’d asked for the regular bag, but the sales associate had scowled at me and I’d decided that I was too tired to try fighting this obviously useless battle.
“I didn’t want anything else,” I said flatly.
Heather sighed, blowing her bangs sky-high into the air. “You want frozen yogurt?”
I nodded happily. “Always,” I said. “I’m starving.”
“You’re going to need to stop eating everything in sight if you want to fit into your gown,” Heather said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t even gotten it in yet,” I said. “I think they could probably let out the seams.”
“Oh my god, you’re getting married like, so soon,” Heather said. “Don’t you care? Aren’t you excited?”
I shrugged. “I think I just have cold feet,” I said softly. “It all seems like it’s happening in a dream, or like someone else is in control of my body and I’m just going through the motions.”
Heather squealed in excitement. “Just wait,” she said, bubbly and happy. “You’re going to be one of the hottest socialites in New York!”
“As if,” I said. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be doing anything like that.”
“But you have to,” Heather protested. “Who’s going to go with Michael to charity dinners? Things like that? How are you going to stay inside when you’re expected everywhere?”
I sighed. “I’ll just hire a proxy,” I said. “I don’t really know what else to do.”
Heather narrowed her eyes. “You’re the strangest bride I ever saw,” she said thoughtfully. “You sure you want this?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really have a choice,” I said. “Do I?”
Heather wrinkled her nose. “The wedding is two months away,” she said slowly. “So no, not really.”
I gave her a dark look. “That’s exactly what I thought.”
Chapter Three
Beth
When I left the mall, my belly was full of frozen yogurt and my head was full of doubts. I’d thrown the bag containing the fateful lingerie into the backseat, like it was a piece of trash, but even that didn’t help me feel better. I had no idea what I was going to do – wasn’t it normal to feel like this?
Suddenly, I wished I had a mother I could call and ask for advice. My mom had died when I was a little kid. She’d gotten pneumonia and had an allergic reaction to the medication. It had been horrible and unexpected. My dad had mourned her for years, but I was never allowed to talk about her. Looking back, I knew that couldn’t have been healthy. But what was I supposed to do? Walk up to my dad and tell him that I needed help?
I talked to my
mom in my head all the time, even though I wasn’t sure she was listening. When I’d been younger, I’d been a big believer in God and the afterlife. But now I wasn’t so sure. Sometimes, life just seemed so unfair, like some kind of horrible punishment meant only to affect those who deserved it the least. My dad had been a perfect example of someone who suffered without ever deserving it – he’d been a selfless, kind man. When he’d remarried, eight years after my mother passed, his wife had cheated on him with someone younger and tried to divorce him and rob him blind not a year after the wedding. Dad had won the court case, but his lawyer had taken his retirement savings. Now, at fifty-two, he worked long weeks in the hopes of making enough money to retire by seventy-five.
It broke my heart. And it also made me feel like I couldn’t talk to Dad about anything – I had the feeling that because he worked so hard, all of the problems I had by comparison weren’t really anything to sneeze at. I felt like if I called him and said, Daddy, I’m really struggling, he probably wouldn’t even know what to say. Dad and I were kind of close, especially for an adult woman and her father, but we’d never been comfortable talking about intimacy of relationships. He approved of Michael, of course, because Michael was rich and never mistreated me.
So I had no idea how to begin talking about my relationship. Daddy would probably just tell me to button up and deal with it – he’d tell some anecdote about not being sure about my mother before their wedding, probably, but knowing that everything would be okay in the end. Dad was a big saying of things like that – he wasn’t very confrontational, and he liked to avoid as many problems as possible.
Sometimes, I wished that I was more like him.
By the time I got home, I was in a really black mood. I threw the bag with the lingerie in the back of my closet, not even caring whether or not Michael saw. Would he be happy that I was getting ready for our wedding?
Or would he be upset that I hadn’t bought more?
I sighed as I walked downstairs and jogged into the kitchen. It was getting late, and despite the fact that I’d eaten a giant size of frozen yogurt at the mall, I was starving. I glanced in the fridge and saw that we had some leftover marinara sauce, along with hot Italian sausages and some pasta.
I hummed under my breath as I started the water to boil. Soon, the kitchen smelled starchy and delicious. I could barely wait for Michael to come home – it was tempting to dip a spoon in the pot and lick everything up myself.
When the door banged, I forced myself to smile. I ran into the foyer and threw my arms around my fiancé. Michael was tall, with thinning blonde hair and a ruddy face from years of being in the sun. He smiled, just barely – the corners of his mouth lifting up for a second. After four years, I was used to his lack of warmth. But it was starting to bother me more and more with each passing day.
“Hi babe,” I said politely, extracting myself from around Michael’s neck. “How was your day?”
Michael sighed. He worked at Magnate Shipping, his father Douglas’s company. The company was Michael’s inheritance, and he spent more than fifty hours a week slaving away in the offices with his father. I knew Douglas and Michael had a cordial but strained relationship. Douglas was a complete workaholic, and I had a sinking suspicion he was always disappointed because Michael valued his time off, as well as his time alone.
“It was long,” Michael said after a pause. “How was your day?”
I squirmed uncomfortably, reluctant to admit that I’d spent practically the whole day doing nothing with my best friend.
“I cleaned the living room,” I said, lying only slightly. Before I’d left for the mall, I’d dusted and rearranged the bookshelves…but I hadn’t done any of the deep cleaning Michael had asked for, such as dusting the baseboards.
“And?” Michael raised his eyebrows, glancing around. “Surely this didn’t take you all day?”
I shook my head. “I went out with Heather, shopping for the honeymoon,” I said.
“I hope you spent a lot of money,” Michael said lightly. He smiled – this time, it was genuine. “I can’t wait to get a break from work,” he added.
I smiled too. “It’ll be so nice to spend some quality time with you,” I said. “I can’t remember the last time you spent a weekend at home.”
Michael nodded seriously. “I can’t wait to catch up on my sleep, and get some sun,” he said, yawning and stretching his arms into the air. He wasn’t particularly tall, only a few inches taller than me, but moments like this reminded me of how small I was. I’d always been short for my weight, and I felt it.
“Yeah, it’ll be great to relax with you,” I replied. There was a slight pang of hurt in my heart – why couldn’t he just say he was excited to spend time with me, instead of catching up on his sleep? You know it’s because he’s so reserved, I thought as I took Michael’s coat and hung it up in the hall closet. It’s not exactly like you ever expected to come home with flowers and gifts. He’s just not that kind of guy.
“What’s that smell?” Michael wrinkled his nose. “Is something burning?”
“Oh, shit,” I mumbled, pushing past my fiancé and running into the kitchen. Sure enough, smoke was billowing in clouds from the oven. Coughing and covering my nose and mouth, I grabbed a hot mitt and yanked the door open. The Italian sausage lay burnt and shriveled on a cookie sheet.
“Beth,” Michael said in a disapproving tone. “What’s all this?”
Feeling guilty, I dumped the sausages in the sink and turned on the cold water until the delicious aroma in the kitchen was replaced with a sodden, smoky mess.
“I made dinner,” I said miserably. “Or at least, I tried to. I’m sorry, Michael.”
Michael narrowed his eyes and for a moment, I thought he was going to lecture me. Even though Michael was wealthy, he liked living like we were close to the poor house. We still lived in the same two-bedroom condo that Michael had bought in his early twenties, and although everything we had was new and functional, I couldn’t help but wonder why exactly he was so bent on saving everything he earned. It was a nice break from the other guys my age who spent all their money on strip clubs and beer, but sometimes I wished we could have the luxurious life that Michael’s money would have afforded us.
“You decided on dinner without consulting me first?” Michael put his hands on his hips.
I frowned. “I was hungry,” I said softly. “I’m sorry – did I do something wrong?”
Michael sighed. “You know how often I’ve spoken to you about being inconsiderate, Beth. Don’t you think you should have asked what I wanted?”
“I would have made you whatever you wanted as soon as you asked for it,” I said. I felt my voice edging dangerously close to a whine. “Michael, I care about you.”
Michael narrowed his eyes. “So you’d just prefer to waste food? Cook two meals?”
“No, that’s not what I meant at all—“
“Shut up, Beth,” Michael said. He glared. “You don’t have any right to talk to me right now.” He sighed. “I’m going out,” he added. “I’ll be home later.”
“What time?” I ran after Michael as he walked towards the front door. “Michael, where are you going?”
“Like I’d tell you,” Michael said tartly. He grabbed his jacket from the hall closet and slammed the door so loud I heard the echo in my brain. He turned around and glared at me one more time.
“Michael, I’m sorry,” I said. “I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Just try thinking about someone other than yourself for once,” Michael snapped. “You think you could do that for me, Beth?”
I didn’t answer. Michael gave me one last withering glance, then slammed the door behind him.
--
I spent the rest of the night meticulously cleaning the kitchen until there was no trace of the burned sausages. I cleaned the living room, too – I didn’t stop until the white paint gleamed on the baseboards and every single book was perfectly in place.
I
’d completely lost my appetite, but I knew that I’d be sick if I didn’t eat anything. Finally, I grabbed a bowl of cereal and ate mindlessly in front of the television. Michael hated when I ate in the living room (and watched reality TV) but I figured since he wasn’t there, he’d never know. Afterwards, I washed my dishes and went upstairs.
The longer Michael was gone, the more panic I felt. Even a long, hot shower didn’t help. Finally, I dug through the closet and pulled out my new nightdress. I figured that maybe I needed a little bit of luck tonight – besides, the wedding was two months away, and I could always go shopping for more stuff. I ripped the tags off, then pulled the nightgown over my head and climbed into bed. The clean cotton against my skin felt relaxing, and soon, despite my anxiety, I was drifting off to sleep.
Unprepared Daddy: A Second Chance Romance Page 30