Kneeling beside my chair, I see Erin’s eyes go wider than the state of Texas. “What are you doing?”
I keep going, sinking down onto my left knee as our mothers look toward me, confusion marring their expressions.
My eyes are trained on Erin. She’s freaking out, but she hasn’t bolted out of the room yet, so that’s a good sign. Meanwhile, my heart is racing like I just did a marathon on crack … not that I’d know how either of those things felt.
“Erin, from the first moment I saw you, I knew you would be my wife someday. And you thought I’d look good with a mud pie on my head, so perhaps we both predicted what would come true.”
At this point, my mom is sobbing loudly in the background of my proposal, and I haven’t even asked or taken a ring out yet.
“Oh my God …” Her brown eyes are the definition of shocked, and I look her over, looking at the woman who has frequented so many days of my life.
“I can’t think of any other person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. You’re my best friend, after all. I’ll never find anyone who puts up with my lack of social media presence, or who’ll give me the last bite of funfetti cake. And in return, I promise that I’ll rub your feet after you’re in heels for six hours, and that I’ll wash the dishes because you only like to dry. So Erin Carter, will you please marry me? Make me the happiest man in the world?”
I pull out the ring in my pocket, or well … the plastic in my pocket. Ripping open the Ring Pop packaging, I hold out a cherry Ring Pop, Erin’s favorite flavor when we were growing up.
And to my surprise, she starts laughing. Cackling actually, big belly laughs as she holds out her hands to mine and grabs my wrists, anchoring herself.
“How did you know this was the exact ring I wanted?” She looks at me, my girl, my peas, sharing the jokes that only we understand.
“Do I know you? A skywriter proposal was never in the cards for us. So … what is your answer?” I lean in and up, pressing my forehead to hers.
She touches my cheek, and I know that I’ve persuaded her. With the Ring Pop, putting a bit of our childhood fun into it, I’ve shown her how a marriage would be between us. This is what I wanted, how I planned to win her over.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” Erin whispers, and our mothers cheer.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it! We have a wedding to plan! I’m getting a daughter, finally. Erin, do you like pink or purple flowers? Are we going to do the ceremony outside or in a church? DJ or band?”
My mom starts spouting off questions at a hysterically rapid pace, wondering aloud about every minute detail of the big day. That we haven’t even discussed yet. Or even thought about. You know, since we just got engaged less than a second ago.
Barbara is pulled into a hug by my mom and I see it, that look of doubt in her eyes. I make sure to remind myself to keep Erin far away from her.
“I can’t believe you got me a Ring Pop.” Erin marvels at it as I slide it onto her ring finger.
“We can get you a real diamond later, but I figured you’d like this shiny baby for now.” Bending in close, I whisper, “Plus, you can suck on it.”
She squeezes my knee hard, and I realize I’m still kneeling. When I sit back in my chair, her eyes have heated and I know we’ll be going at it as soon as we’re alone. Since discovering sex with each other, it’s like we’ve realized that this whole other side to our relationship exists. One that we’d deprived ourselves of and were now gorging on like the Halloween candy your parents hid for half the year and you accidentally found.
“Me and you getting hitched. Who would have thought?” Her eyes twinkle, and I hope that she’s as happy as I am right now.
“I did!” Mom pipes up.
She captures Erin’s attention, and I can’t help but admire the way my new fiancée, damn is that weird to say, humors my mother.
I need to walk away for a minute, to fully bask in the moment, and I bring my coffee cup for a refill. Nothing like wedding talk and three women to make a man feel tired.
Barbara pulls me aside as I fill my mug, while my mom and Erin start talking about dresses and cakes. To her credit, she’s trying to sound like a bride while looking super overwhelmed but happy to talk about all of the pink.
“Reese, I’m happy for you.” Her cautious expression says otherwise.
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand where it rests on my arm, knowing that something more is coming
“But … be careful with her heart. Love can be fickle. I hope you two outlast what most can’t.” She shrugs and has this fake sympathetic look on her face.
I’m instantly annoyed. Both by her warning, and I’m even more annoyed that’s she annoyed me in this moment when I should be nothing but happy.
“Actually, I’ve always been careful with your daughter’s heart. And I am realistic enough to know that marriage is a hard game, one that is played for the rest of one’s life. But I’ve always been good to Erin, and she’s always been good to me. Our friendship has outlasted many things and many years, and now we’re going to deepen our connection. But it doesn’t mean anything is changing. You need to be happy for your daughter.”
Her eyes are a mixture of scolded puppy and jaded divorcée. “I hope you’re right about all of that.”
She’s almost burst my bubble, but I buck up and refuse to let her. Taking my mug back to the table, I listen to Erin and Mom talk about Pinterest ideas and dress shops around the area.
I lace my fingers through Erin’s under the table, and my heart swells as she leans into me, almost subconsciously. And I know we’ve done it. We’ve turned into those affectionate people who subtly touch each other without realizing it.
And now that she’s wearing my Ring Pop, we’ll get to touch each other, subtly or not, for the rest of our lives.
Thirty-Seven
Erin
You know how sometimes, you looked around at your life, and didn’t really understand how you got to the place you were in at that exact moment?
That’s how I felt right about now. Sitting in my sister’s kitchen, her baby in a carrier around her shoulders, a pink silicone ring that Reese had found in a shop the other day was sitting on the fourth finger on my left hand. I’d almost preferred the Ring Pop.
Me, the romance naysayer, was about to plan a wedding. The one event in a woman’s life that was all about flowers, kisses, sappy songs and love. That four letter word that I swore I’d never believe in.
I sat on one of the leather stools that surrounded her island, and watching as Morg prepared a salad while popping her boob out to stick in Carina’s mouth.
“Talk about multitasking.” I chuckled.
“The kid wants to be glued to my chest all day since she got home … I can’t say no. And even if I feel like a cow, breast milk is cheaper than formula.” She shrugs, cutting a cucumber as my niece chomps on her nipple.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” I grimace, holding my own boobs.
“Eh, you get used to it. Speaking of things we all have to get used to, I seriously can’t believe you’re actually engaged to Reese Collins. Reese’s Pieces, the boy who once peed on our swing set out back because we wouldn’t let him use our Barbie’s as cannon fodder.”
I burst out laughing. “I’d forgotten about that. Thanks for the image.”
Not wanting to voice my internal thoughts, I turn back to my computer, pretending to work while she cooks. I spend a good chunk of time over here now, since Morgan’s on maternity leave and I can work from anywhere.
But the thoughts I’ve been having are dangerous. And I’m afraid if I give them life by speaking them out loud, they’ll grow legs and carry the whole thing away.
In my head, I go over it again. How I’m faking that I love to wedding plan. How it’s been two weeks since Reese got down on one knee, and I haven’t opened one magazine or gift that has been sent. How I loved the likes I got on Instagram for my engagement post more than I loved looking at rings with Reese. Ho
w every time we had sex now, I thought about our wedding night, and got a feeling of dread.
I’m not sure what switch flipped in my head after he popped the question, but as we were taking the train back to the city from our hometown, my stomach began to sink. I got this clawing feeling up the back of my throat, and then it felt like someone soaked my brain in anxiety acid. And every single day since, I’d had a moment where I felt like my lungs were closing in on themselves. Like I couldn’t function. Like I’d never move again due to the panic seizing my body.
That feeling … it brought on thoughts. Thoughts like, my life wasn’t so bad. Why did I want to chain it to someone else’s, even if it was someone like Reese who I loved and respected? Was I really going to get married? I didn’t even believe in the institution … so why was I going to go and commit to it?
“Have you spoken to Dad again?” Morgan asks, sipping a glass of wine now as she poured me one too.
It was two p.m., but I wasn’t going to argue. Hell, I downed half of mine as soon as she put it in front of me. She wasn’t pregnant anymore and she explained that she would pump and dump after so it was okay to have a glass every now and then while nursing and I was in the midst of an emotional panic, so we had earned this chardonnay.
Was it terrible that I would rather talk about my traitorous father than my impending marriage? That was how much I was freaking out about being engaged.
“We had two phone calls, and he wants to meet for coffee. He sent a congratulatory card … I just still don’t know where to put him.” My feelings had warmed slightly, but we were still in Alaska when it came to cordiality. Maybe Alaska in spring, but still Alaska.
Morg nods. “That’s okay, you don’t have to know where to put him right now. The most important thing is that you’re talking. That you’re being open to it. Believe me, it wasn’t easy for me when I was in your shoes. But I knew that I’d regret it, and you will too if you keep this cold shoulder up.”
“Yeah, you’re right …” I’m distracted, thinking more about Reese than my dad.
She stops what she’s doing and looks straight at me, with those big sister eyes that can practically see into my soul. “Are you sure you’re okay with this whole engagement thing? I love you and Reese, and I love you together, but you don’t have to get married just because of this pact.”
How the fuck can she tell? She’s eerily good at reading people for an accountant. Maybe she’s secretly a spy or contract killer, like Ben Affleck in that one movie.
But I made a pact. I said I’d do it. And he asked. How could I say no to Reese? We were best friends, but would he ever forgive me if I broke this off? Something inside of me said no.
So I would go through with it. Because I loved him, even if we hadn’t said those words. Even if I still wasn’t sure if it was in the best friend way or the man of my dreams way.
“I’m getting married because I love him.” I smile, trying to fake it as much as humanly possible.
It’s the truth and the lie all wrapped into one. At this point, I can’t tell which is which.
Thirty-Eight
Erin
Finally a Friday that Reese had off from work, and I’d wanted to go out to this trendy lounge bar I’d been reading about.
The place had cocktails with chilis and bee pollen in them, liquor imported straight from Russia, and a band playing that was supposed to be the next up and coming thing in Philly. I wanted to go desperately, thought it would be a fun blog post for my followers.
But Reese had said he was tired, that we could just stay in and cook dinner together.
Nothing sounded more boring to me at this moment. It had instantly put me in a bad mood, and I was kind of sulking through the kitchen.
Reese cuts up the onions, and tells me that I need to start browning the meat. “Um, what?”
“Brown the meat.” He doesn’t look up.
I bite my lip to stop the chuckle, but it comes out anyway. “Is that supposed to be a euphemism for something? Because if you actually want me to cook, you should know that I don’t. I mean, remember that time I burnt ramen in the microwave?”
It’s his turn to chuckle. “Shit, you forgot to put water in it. Who does that?”
“Me. Still want to marry me?” I looked down at the simple silicone ring.
My head spun, I kind of couldn’t believe that we were actually going to do this. The lies I’d been telling were catching up with me. But before I’d agree to marry him for real, I told him I needed a big fat diamond. Hell, I was a girl who ran a fashion blog … did you really think I wouldn’t be vain enough to want to pick out a fat ole engagement ring? And … it was another stall tactic.
Reese looked at me, his hazel eyes heavy with thought. “Why, do I have more convincing I need to do?”
His tone might sound like it was trying to come off teasing, but I could hear the harshness underneath. “Chill, I was just kidding.”
But I think I struck a nerve. Reese is chopping harder now, and something in the air has shifted. “No, really, Er. What else do I need to do? Because I’ve been pretty clear about my feelings, my intentions. And yet you still make jokes. And if we’re being serious, you definitely still have doubts. I see it whenever I bring up any kind of planning question. You still haven’t picked a date or a venue, you don’t even want to talk about it.”
It looks like somebody else in the kitchen has been hiding things too, and he can see right through mine. I’m completely blindsided, but I’d be lying if he hadn’t identified a feeling I’d had deep down ever since I’d said yes to his proposal.
“Okay, bridezilla, calm down. I was seriously just kidding. I didn’t realize it was such a big sticking point with you. We can talk about whatever you want.”
But Reese wouldn’t drop it. I could see the fire blazing in those hazel pools, the veins in his neck beating in time with his rapid heart rate. “I guess you just figure that if things don’t work out, we could always just get a divorce!”
Everything in the room freezes. Time, my hands, my heart, Reese. The only thing making any noise is the stove burner I just flicked on to start the taco meat.
My mouth hangs open at the word … the one word in the English vocabulary that can bring more pain to me than any other word. My stomach is ice, and yet I feel like I might bend at the middle and empty my guts all over his hardwood floors. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and we’re just staring at each other.
Reese starts to move, like a TV that has been unpaused. “Erin, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that … work, today, it was terrible. I lost one of my babies, I’m so sorry, that is never an option, not to me …”
He’s stumbling over his words, walking around the island in his kitchen to get to me. But I just keep backing up, retreating.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, it was an asshole thing to say. My temper got the best of me, I would never, I should have never said that word.”
He reaches for me, and my voice is deadly quiet. “Do not touch me.”
“Erin, come on, I’m sorry …” He’s begging like a puppy dog, but my heart has turned to stone.
“Fuck you. Fuck you for even thinking that that would be an option. You really think that?” I choke on a sob, grabbing my coat as I continue to back away from him.
“Of course not.” Reese tries to reach for me again, and I swing my elbow away so he can’t catch it.
“You wouldn’t have said it if a tiny part of you didn’t at least think it.” My heart was crumbling, turning to ash.
I’d put myself out there, digested the thought of acting on the pact, dated him, opened my heart in a way that I never really wanted to. I had begun to come around to the idea of love, and by the time we got married, I honestly think I would have been settled with Reese the way he was with me. But now?
I couldn’t wait to get as far away from him as possible.
He’d just said the word he could never take back, and for me, it was the bre
aking point.
I grabbed my bag, slid into my shoes and walked out the door.
Reese knew me well enough not to come after me.
Thirty-Nine
Reese
When you’re a nurse, you see the toll that drugs take on people.
In my clinical rounds as a nursing student, I’d seen a number of addicts who’d overdosed or were in the middle of a detox come into the hospital. They were out of their minds, on another planet, devoid of feeling pain or listening to rational thoughts.
Right now, I envied them. I wish I could take something that would shut this off, take away the agony pumping through me at all hours. I would do anything to rewind the past three days, to say something different, to make sure my feelings were so well heard that there would be no doubt on Erin’s part that I’d been joking.
But deep down, I’d been waiting for this. The other shoe to drop. The straw to break the camel’s back. The reason that Erin ends this … I’ve been secretly anticipating it.
From the jump, the minute I mentioned the pact, I knew that we were heading for a momentous decision. It was either a happily ever after, or the end of an era.
And now, I had my answer. I sat on my couch, not even watching the droning sports game that was on TV. I just had it on in the background, because it seemed like a normal thing to do right now.
Except … right now wasn’t a normal time. I had fucked-up. Fucked-up so bad that I’d lost my fiancée and my best friend all in the same sentence. I hadn’t meant to say it. It had been a joke, albeit an insensitive one.
But I’d seen her eyes. How she’d shut down. She had never, in our lives, looked at me like that. I’d watched her do it to other people, but I’d never been on the other side of that mistrusting stare.
My heart was ripped to shreds. And I had eaten an entire Turkey Hill container of Party Cake. So my stomach was being ripped to shreds as we spoke.
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