by Hart, Romi
(Today)
I suppose him proposing and me whimpering “I DO” was a bit melodramatic, even for a writer’s romance. It was certainly a plot worthy of his novel series, which I always admired for its drama, beautiful sense of tragedy and of course its great battle scenes.
Why did he propose? Why did I say yes like a silly schoolgirl? If I was being honest with myself I’d have to admit that yes, I did feel something that first day. That moment when we clicked and seemed to talk for hours. I loved his mind. I loved how much doting attention he gave me and how he was the opposite of Mickey in so many ways. I “loved him”, maybe from that first moment I explained what the eternal moment really meant to me.
But I swear, even to myself, I didn’t EVER think of marrying him! To me, love is a complicated thing. You don’t love everyone. You don’t even marry the person you love, necessarily.
And then as I stood in the background admiring him…so proud of him for accomplishing all of his dreams…I started to see him differently. I was in awe of the man he became, even while I sank lower and lower in my romantic life. I found my place in work, in projects and in becoming my own woman. But God, what happened to my heart? After Mickey left all my life consisted of was just work and rebuilding my professional life. I considered it a blessing to not think about love and romance, to politely but curtly reject anyone at work.
In many ways, Simeon was the first man to really ask me out since Mickey…and of course, when he asked me to marry him—indicating he’s been in love with me for YEARS it was very flattering! For a few minutes, I even basked in the glow of the fantasy. A billionaire’s wife. Having the option to keep working, or to, you know, open up my own private foundation and travel the world. It was appealing, fuck yeah it was appealing.
But even now, as I get dressed for our first “date”, I feel so nervous…so unsure of what we’re getting into. It’s not that I don’t really like Simeon. I do, I did! But isn’t what we’re doing kind of crazy? Or am I more crazy by NOT going after this great guy—this rich, handsome guy who was TOTALLY in love with me just a few years ago?
I don’t know. I don’t even know what to wear. What does a woman wear when she impulsively agreed to MARRY the guy, but doesn’t want to look slutty and desperate, but doesn’t want to insult him either?
For that matter, what the hell am I to him? Am I little more than a mail order bride? What in the hell prompted him to ask me and why in the hell did I say yes?
Maybe we both just got carried away in the moment, our lives of loneliness and regret. I decided to wear a grey blouse, white jacket and pink scarf today—the day I’m going to meet my accidental new husband. I feel strangely pressured to be wonderful. I should be grateful, I know, I should be feeling something magical…like marrying into royalty
But all I can think about now is that night. That night way back when, before he was Billionaire Simon, before I became CFO of Jolt. What happened to us? Are we still those two crazy kids that were always dreaming, suffering, asking silly questions? Or did we change?
We arranged to meet at a small, quaint coffee shop. I arrived first, about a half hour early just to be careful. I tried to calm my nerves down by wolfing down three cups of coffee!
And now I’m waiting. Patiently, nowhere to go, no other commitments. Just us, the way we always fantasized about. I look up and feel a sense of relief. Simeon enters the room and reminds me of why I said yes without even thinking about it.
He’s not just a man, he’s a treasure. Look at him, I say to myself, looking so handsome in his suit and raincoat. The face of a movie star, so youthful and vibrant. A smile so genuine, free of all snark. His eyes haunting as always but now only concentrating on me.
I didn’t dress to be beautiful. I dressed to be comfortable.
But he still meets my eyes and gives me a sexy smile, letting me know that I am his fantasy. Just me, just bare bones and natural. I am still his girl, even after years of aging and making silly mistakes.
I shake off my silly schoolgirl attraction, realizing that I am the one who’s successful and attractive. I don’t need him, I don’t need to be saved like a helpless maiden waiting for her knight.
But when he speaks, part of my heart sings.
“Denise,” he says. “I’m very glad to see you. As always, you look beautiful. You haven’t changed one bit. Still the prettiest woman in the room.”
“You have an amazing way with words.”
“That’s not writing, my friend. That’s the truth.”
“Well, sit down, good sir. You might as well have coffee with me first. Even though you already bought your mail order bride, you have to charm her a little bit more before the wedding night.” I laugh.
“Mail order bride?” he laughs too, taking a seat in the booth across from me. “Listen to yourself, Denise. I’ve been keeping up with you. I know where you work. I know what you’ve been doing with yourself. You’re not a helpless, princess stuck in a tower. Not anymore.”
“No, I know. It’s my silly attempt at humor. I don’t know why I still see myself as this little victimized girl. I’ve been busting my ass for ten years at this company. I reject men every day. I fire men every day!” I laugh hard. “And yet you come into the room and suddenly it’s like I’m a twenty-year-old housewife again, just barely getting her first real job.”
“You’ve made remarkable progress,” he said. “You’re a feminist, a hard worker, and a proven leader. I couldn’t be any prouder of what you’ve become. You’re so much better off now that you’ve left what’s his name.”
“Oh God tell me about it. That first year, I’m not going to lie, it was miserable. I cried even after he left. I felt worthless.”
“What did you do? Where did you live? I know I reached out to you…but…”
“Oh no, no, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t up to talking to anyone.”
“Oh, no, I understand. We all have to heal in our own way. I completely understand. This was your journey, your trip to recovery. I wasn’t your knight in shining armor. Even though I did think about just grabbing you and running away to Hawaii a few times.”
I crack up laughing. “Not with Sarah standing there.”
“Well…no.”
“Yeah so anyway, I had to take some time out of life. I still managed to work, just barely. But I lived with my mother for a year then with my sister. And I got the fuck back to work, you know? Started living my life again and slowly, one day at a time, I stopped thinking about HIM. First time I’ve actually thought of him in a long time, just right now.”
“Good,” he said.
“Are you still friends with him?”
“Not like we used to be. I still hear from him via email every once in a while.”
“Oh, what’s he doing now?”
“Remarried.”
“Oh that poor girl.”
“YEAH!” he laughs hard. “Mickey will be Mickey. There really should be a marital score report, you know, like the relationship equivalent of a credit check.”
“Yeah, exactly! Could have saved me a lot of trouble. And heartache and PTSD from living with that asshole.”
“So living alone now? Enjoying the single life?”
“I wouldn’t say enjoying…more like neglecting. More like shelving it until I’m sixty, hah-hah.”
“Nonsense. You’re a beautiful girl, Denise. You could have any man you wanted.”
“I know,” she said with a smirk. “That’s what everyone tells me. And yet you, Mister Hollock, you proposed to me. I want to know why.”
“I want to know why you said yes without even taking a moment to think it over!”
We both snickered at the idea. Grown up kids is what we are!
“Okay I’ll tell you, but you first.”
“Well…because I always loved you,” he says meeting my eyes, so tenderly, so patiently, this time without any guilt or shame. Nowhere to be…
I look away, perhaps nervously, an old habit.
“Not just because, you know, we talked. And you were so fun to talk to. You’re the kind of smart person that can just talk about anything. I admire that. But be that as it may, that’s what it was that made me really like you.”
“And what was that?”
“That you were a really good wife,” he says, losing his smile but letting his voice become softer. He finds my eyes again and I’m mesmerized. When he speaks, I almost go into a trance, just wanting him to talk to me more and more. Long hours into the night. Crazy visuals of talking all day and into morning, in bed, in each other’s arms.
“No I mean it. You were good to him, to Mickey. I could tell you’re the type of person that loves completely. You set your heart to something and you do it, you don’t give up. That speech you gave me that one time. About the eternal moment. About love. About fighting for the relationship you want to keep. That spoke to me. And it just occurred to me that as long as I knew you, you were always loyal. You believed in something and I find that wonderful. I wanted to marry you as soon as I saw you, as soon as our eyes met. I still know what’s in your heart, Denise.”
I blush a little bit, very charmed at his speech. To his credit, it never seems rehearsed. Maybe a little overwritten but that’s just what he does for a living. The fact that someone could still feel that way about me, even now approaching forty, means so much. It feels so good to be loved.
We take a walk, strolling down the park and thinking back to old times. I lean onto him as we walk hand in hand, in no rush, taking our time and talking about all these strange and beautiful things. I still love things about him. The way his mind works, the way his soul seems so fresh and eager to experience life. The way he laughs and his outrageous sense of humor. He makes me laugh, makes me think…then he says the most heartwarming things about me. Sometimes I pause when I listen to him…figuring he must be trying to be sarcastic. But he’s not. He really means it and wants to spoil me with the attention my soul yearns for.
I can safely say I see no reason why I shouldn’t stick by my decision to impulsively marry an old friend—now a successful billionaire, who just so happens to be gorgeous. I should be so happy with him…
And yet I still wonder, deep down, what’s the catch? What’s wrong with this picture? Too good to be true? Am I really that accustomed to misery and bully men that I can’t accept the idea of a GOOD man, someone who doesn’t want to hurt me?
Or am I missing something else? Is any of this real? Or, in the words of the author, is this all just a hologram?
“Hey,” I say, looking into his eyes but only for a moment. “We never finished our conversation in the coffee shop. How did you know I was going to say yes? Wait let me guess. Because no one ever says no to the big billionaire celebrity?”
He laughs. “Oh, I had no idea. I really didn’t care about how it looked. I didn’t even consider what you would say. I just said it, it was my heart reaching out to you like I always wanted to do…but well, obviously the timing was right.”
“And how about you?” I say, rubbing my head against his arm as we walk. “Don’t you want to know when and if I ever fell in love with you?”
“Of course. Please share!”
“Humm I guess that’s not important, huh?” I say, teasing him and making sure he’s laughing with me. “You just think I’m purty so you’ll say anything.”
“Well you are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous woman on earth.”
“Oh get out of here!”
“No, I mean it. Look, I meet celebrities all the time. Most girls, teens and twenty-year-olds, I have no idea who they are or what they’ve been in. All my movie star crushes have grown up, grown older. But you, you my friend, have stayed purely gorgeous. So pure, so unblemished by the world.”
“Oh get out! You flatter me.”
“Whatever. I tell the truth. Most guys would put down Jennifer Lawrence or someone lame like that in their celebrity wish list? I would choose Denise Cornet. Wouldn’t even think about it twice.”
“I’m not a celebrity!”
“Oh you will be soon enough,” he says slyly. “After all, I hear from a reliable business news source, you may be CEO within the next three years. That means interviews, press, charity events.”
I titter away, honored and a little embarrassed at the fact that he thought I was sexier than a supermodel or a movie star. Even me, with minimal makeup and average body – and really the more of a “funny face” selfie girl than a sexy selfie girl – that’s who he wanted. I’m what drives him, what inspires him. What makes him…
“But yeah now that you mention it. What made you say yes?” he says. “No wait. Let me rephrase that. What made you want me?”
I smile…but then look away thinking over the brainteaser of a question.
“You know, Denise,” he says with a grin. “If you don’t want to get married we don’t have to. Far be it from me to whisk you away to a fantasy you don’t even want. If you have your own plans…you know CFO.”
“Of course not!” I say, reaching out and pressing my hands to his face. “I love you, Simeon. And I was just about to tell you why.”
“Oh do tell. I won’t take offense if it’s because of my books. You know I’m second in sales only to JK Rowling. Stephen King, well he’s published like a thousand novels, so it’s harder to compare…”
“It’s because of your high moral character.” I shoot him a smile, making sure he sees me this time. It’s the truest thing I can say and the biggest compliment I’ve ever given anyone.
“Well thank you. I suppose I do believe in being ethical.”
“Oh, no. A lot of guys are ethical or are what they consider ethical anyway. I mean…” I laugh heartily. “Mickey thought he was the most ethical person in the world.”
“Really?”
“No with you it’s different, Simeon.”
“Well thanks.”
“I mean part of me is like, maybe it’s too soon to get married, I’m not going to lie. I love romance. I love the gesture. It was awesome to be the big story on social media that day.”
He laughs and nods.
“But I was always worried that meeting you, you know, and spending time with you would be a let down. For you! That I would bore you all these years later.”
“Oh course not, Denise. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you. And you talk about my ethics and morals? Your ethics are amazing. You’re the one I’m inspired by.”
“No, don’t sell yourself short, my friend. You are ethical and I definitely feel that spark between us. And it’s all about your character.”
“Well I certainly write a lot of characters, so I guess I do have experience in empathizing.”
“Oh don’t be so modest!”
“What?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Not really. Try me.”
“Well as you know we both felt something that night. When we talked all those hours and confided in each other. We both felt it. Right?”
“Of course we did.”
“But I was married. And you were with Sarah. Was that her name, Sarah?”
“Right.”
“And you resisted. You didn’t push me, even though maybe you could have. If you wanted to. But something in you held back. Because you knew it was wrong. And that’s what I found so amazing, so unusual about you.”
“Oh, I see what you mean.”
“Your integrity. Your-”
“Well you obviously weren’t interested so I didn’t push it. I read your signals and I respected your consent.”
“Your…” I flinch. I lose my smile after a few moments of absorbing that comment. “Your values…I was about to say.”
And a stare.
“Did I answer wrong?”
“Let me get this straight, Simeon. You resisted me? Because I didn’t give you signals?”
“Well…is this a trick question?” He laughs but I’m straight faced.
&n
bsp; “No, it’s really not. Just tell me. If I had given you ‘signals’ then you would have made a move on me? Just like that?”
“Well yeah. I thought that’s what you were…I mean, I’ve been in love with you for a long time. So when we met and were both free it was like a dream-”
“But you were not free that night, Simeon. You had Sarah.”
“Right.”
“I had Mickey.”
“Right?”
“Who were you faithful to? Whose signals were you reading?”
“Well…”
“You know for a genius writer you’re kind of slow about simple things.” I laugh hard. Okay maybe that was a bit rude. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Hey, I don’t care,” he says with a cocky smirk. “You insult me it just makes me want you more, beautiful.”
“But seriously, my attraction to you was based on the fact that you were loyal to your girlfriend.”
“Well yeah and you were with Mickey…”
“Fuck Mickey. I’m talking about Sarah. How could you…” I shake my head, not quite believing what I was hearing. “How could you even think of cheating on Sarah with me? What if I was weak? What if I was desperate and wanted someone, ANYONE, to give me love in a fucking abusive marriage? What would you have done if I had given you these all important signals?”
“Now this sounds like a trick question.”
“You would have fucked me, right? Right in front of your girlfriend, just three rooms away from my husband?”
“Umm…well when you put it that way…”
I stare, listening, hoping for clarification.
“What was the question again?”
“Oh my God.” I crack up laughing.
“Look, I know what you’re getting at, darling, but I think you’re moralizing a bit heavy, don’t you think? I know you didn’t love me. I didn’t try to force you to love me. I didn’t make you kiss me just because I wanted. That’s admirable.”
“It’s not about you or me. It’s about how you treated Sarah.”
“To hell with Sarah! We broke up years ago.”
“And someday you’re going to say the exact same thing about me. If that’s all a woman’s loyalty means to you.”