by Brill Harper
After today, there’s no reason to pretend to be dating anymore.
Last night...last night was so intense. I’ve never been so fully present while having sex.
“You look amazing,” he says. “Prettiest woman in the room.”
He’s holding my hand and it feels forced between us for the first time. I want to make it less awkward, but that’s not exactly my strong suit, is it? “I can’t believe Megan chose such a cliché for a wedding song. I mean, ‘Up Where We Belong’? It’s very Megan of her.” Christopher smiles and puts his arm around me and that’s when it hits me. “Goddess, Christopher. This is the first time we’ve danced together,” I say as the horror dawns.
“Yeah.”
I pull back to look at him. “That makes this our song now.”
He laughs and then this look steals over his face, and he shakes his head. “I had a worse song once. My ex and I slow danced to ‘Three Times a Lady’ at a Motown-themed party.”
“‘Three Times a Lady’ was your couple song? No wonder you didn’t last.”
Oh, shit. That was the wrong thing to say. He looks crestfallen. “That wasn’t the only reason, but I’m sure it didn’t help.”
“That’s the first time you’ve mentioned having an ex. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever dated anyone before me.”
His shields go up. “Well, it didn’t work out.”
“Thanks for the recap, Captain Obvious.” I squeeze him so he knows I’m kidding around.
He laughs, but it’s sort of hollow. I feel like my heart is hollowing out on this dance floor. Maybe I’d already been making room in it for Christopher. Just in case. And now that he’s vacating the space with each passing minute, it’s all echoes in there. “Were you in love with her? Your ex?”
“I thought I was.”
Jealous or not jealous? I can’t decide how I feel. “Wool socks love or dagger through the heart love?”
“Doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out.”
“Ah, dagger through the heart then. Is that why you’re so cautious? Did she hurt you very badly?” While I kind of hate thinking about him being in love with anyone who isn’t me, I hate the idea of him being hurt even more.
I force myself not to get too comfortable in his arms. It’s tempting to melt. To pretend this is real.
Do I want this to be real? Is this what I want? Christopher, the disapproving veterinarian? I hold my breath. I’m afraid he can somehow reach right into my head and pull out my thoughts, and I don’t think I want him to know. If not, why is my heart hollowing out?
Is it just the sex? There is no denying the sex is great. I love that he loses his mind when he needs to be inside me. I love the way he uses my body so roughly, but at the same time manages to make me feel treasured.
“I asked her to marry me.”
I pull back, all melting stopped. “You were going to get married?”
His muscles stiffen. Tin Man style. That’s when I realize that he is the marrying kind. The committing kind. With someone else, anyway. Someone not me.
I don’t understand why it hurts so much. We weren’t even really dating.
“What happened?” What was she like? What inspired you to want to spend the rest of your life with her?
“Do you remember the show Marry Me Flashmob?”
“That was on MTV, wasn’t it? Public proposals or something?” I pause. “Oh, Christopher...”
I do remember that show. I remember one in particular that went viral—after the flashmob was over, the girl said no. Right in front of everyone in the food court and everyone who later watched it at home.
“Buzzfeed, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter...my fifteen minutes of fame lasted about a month before something more interesting came along.”
That was Christopher? I’m thinking back to how often I saw it pop up on social media. “I didn’t even recognize you. You had Bieber bangs then.”
“More of a Zach Efron style, I think. At least, that’s what my ex used to say.”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been very painful for you.”
“Well, now you see why I avoid the limelight. It’s not very flattering.”
“So, I take it you two broke up right away.”
He nods. “Yeah. Maybe now you can understand why I’m not...”
He leaves it hanging, but I know what he thinks. That he can’t trust love. That maybe he doesn’t deserve love.
He’s so wrong about that.
“Look, it was a hell of a way to find out she didn’t want to marry you, but you can’t just give up on love and romance entirely because you got rejected once.”
“Stella, I’m not the kind of guy who could go through that twice. I’m a very private person. It took every ounce of courage I could muster to put myself out there like that. To do it so publicly and with a camera crew. I thought she would like it. Find it romantic. Understand how much I sacrificed to do something so against my introverted nature. Instead, she made me the laughingstock of pop culture.” Christopher clutches me harder, but not to get closer. He’s tense, angry. “No, I take that back. It isn’t her fault. I made myself the laughingstock. I misread everything. It’s my issue that I don’t understand how love works. How people work.”
“Well, as someone who is embarrassed a lot, I can sympathize with you. But you’re a good man. You’ll make a good husband. A good father. But you’ll have to open up more if you want the real thing, Christopher.” Be careful. “With someone. Someday.”
He blows out another breath. A huff really.
Change the subject. The song is almost over.
I need to rip off the Band-Aid, don’t I? “I think we should look like we’re having some kind of argument.”
“What?”
“So our breakup will be more believable. You know...if we have a fight in front of everyone.”
“Stella—”
I pull back. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Dance?”
The pulse in my ears grows louder.
“You mean...us, don’t you?”
A look steals over his face that reminds me of his face when he told the police some of Mrs. Bain’s cats were going to have to be put down.
My back stiffens. I knew we weren’t going to be a real thing after this, but I thought...might as well be honest. I kind of believed we could be a thing after this. For all my protesting, part of me hoped for something more. But if I want even a shred of dignity left after he leaves town Monday night, I need to make this a clean break.
“I’m going to walk away now. Tell everyone later that we argued. As you know, I’m taking Monday off for family stuff. There are two surgeries scheduled, but that’s it. No appointments. Carlita knows what to do with the charts and my computer.”
“Stella...”
We stop dancing, the song still swirling around us, but he doesn’t stop staring at me. My heart is still trying to lead me into the dark. I know he can see in my eyes that I’m pleading with him to stop me. Change my mind. Say something. Keep me.
It’s not like I didn’t know this was coming.
It’s better this way.
I don’t storm off. I take one step back. Then another. He doesn’t stop me.
He’s not going to.
I turn slowly and walk toward the door calmly, knowing the moment that Perry and Tru are behind me. They will keep me upright.
“It’s okay,” I tell them. “I knew it was coming. It’s part of our plan. I’m okay.”
Perry hooks her arm in mine. “We got this. Lizzo and Haagen-Dazs on the way. Just hold on.” We get to the gift table by the exit. “And don’t you dare look back.”
Chapter Twenty
Christopher
Monday, all the stars are back in place, but nothing shines.
I’m feeling lower than I’ve ever felt and missing something I never wanted. I get a call from Dr. Anderson. Good news, everything is on schedule...her father is coming here to live with her, so I’m
free to go back to the city after we close. She’ll be rolling into town in another hour or two.
It should be good news. Living in Brazen Bay now is out of the question.
I can’t believe I let myself fall in love with someone who clearly didn’t want me. Again.
It’s better this way. She’ll move on. Find someone who doesn’t try to take down her stars.
When I get home to my apartment in Seattle that evening, my mother is just leaving after having watered my plants. She follows me back into my place. The air is stale, but my mail is stacked neatly on the kitchen counter. My plants are thriving. And well, that’s really it. That’s how easily I can walk out of my life for weeks at a time.
“Thanks for taking care of things here, Mom.”
She looks me over in that way that mothers do. “What’s wrong, son?”
Nothing. Everything.
“Do you want tea?”
She shakes her head. “You’re troubled by something.”
I suppose that is one way to describe it. “How did you and Dad make your marriage work?”
“What do you mean?” She sits down on the tan sofa. That’s on the tan carpet. In the room with tan walls. Damn, everything is so neutral. Not just my apartment. My life. Nothing goes forward or backward. I’m just idling through it.
“You’re so different from each other.”
“Son, that’s why it works.”
“You fought all the time. Maybe you still do.”
“Your father and I are very passionate people. We’re better about communicating now. I know it bothered you when you were a child, and I’m sorry. Children don’t come with a manual. Hell, neither does marriage. And your father is an obstinate fool, of course.” She still gets a goofy grin when talking about my dad. “Lord, that man. Are you having woman troubles?”
I join her on the couch, a sudden need to be near her. To feel comfort from my mother in a way I haven’t in a long time. “I thought I knew what I wanted. But there’s this woman...”
She picks up my hand. “It’s about time.”
“Mom.” She squeezes my hand gently. “I think I ruined it.”
“Tell me about her,” she encourages.
“She’s infuriating. Messy. Erratic. Colorful, dazzling actually. Surprising. Remarkable. Wonderful.”
She laughs. “So why do you think you ruined it?”
“Well, I was myself. Predictable. Plodding. Dull. Colorless. Stella, that’s her name, is so different from me. The way she talks circles and surrounds herself with colorful chaos. And shiny things. Mom, you should see her when something shiny catches her eye. She’s drawn to it. I’m the opposite of shiny.”
“Oh, Christopher. You’ve always been shiny to me.”
“You’re my mother. You’re biased.”
“Probably. You still haven’t told me how you ruined it.”
Her eyes are brilliant with excitement, not compassion. I think she isn’t taking this seriously. Like she thinks she can matchmake me back into Stella’s good graces. “Well, for starters, she broke up with me on the dance floor of her brother’s wedding reception. And I let her. I didn’t try to stop her, even though I know I’m in love with her.”
Her eyes grow round at that admission. “Wow. Did you have a fight? I’m trying to imagine you arguing in public and I just can’t.”
“Well, then you probably won’t believe me when I tell you I was in bar brawl Friday night.”
“What?”
“Some guy said some unflattering things about Stella, so I hit him.”
“Christopher, my word, what’s gotten into you?”
“See? That’s what I mean. Stella brings out a lot of things inside me that I don’t like. But she also makes me feel...”
“Feel what, sweetheart?”
“Everything. She makes me feel everything. Good and bad. I can’t find my equilibrium with her.”
“Is that how you felt about Heather?”
I inhale a shocked breath. Nobody talks about Heather around me. My instinct is to get up, get off this couch, and go workout or run. Anything to get away from this conversation with my mother that we never had. Not once.
But maybe we should.
“I haven’t examined my feelings about Heather. I closed that door and I don’t want to open it again.”
“Christopher, you’re not a coward. Open the door and have a look.”
I close my eyes. Imagine Heather. Pretty. Charming. Intelligent.
Had she ever stirred me the way Stella does? I loved Heather, at least I thought I did. When she broke my heart, it was enough to keep me from opening it again. But did she make me feel the same as I feel about Stella?
I shake my head. “No. I cared enough about Heather to ask her to marry me, but I never felt my world was upside down when I was with her.”
“You’re not going to like what I have to say, son. But I’m going to say it anyway. The reason you closed yourself off from love wasn’t because Heather didn’t return your feelings. It was because you were humiliated. It isn’t fear of love that’s imprisoned you. It’s your pride.”
She’s wrong. I wanted to marry Heather, share my life with her. And she...shit. She humiliated me. She may not have meant to cause lasting damage. She was right to say no to a marriage proposal she didn’t want, and I’ve never looked all that closely at how that must have affected her also. She was in that viral video as much as I was, and she got blindsided by the whole thing. At least I knew what was going on.
“I can see your wheels turning, so I’m going to let you spend some time with your deep thoughts. Besides, your father and I have a class tonight.”
I get up with her and walk her to the door. “What class?”
Her eyes dart to the side. “It’s actually more of an activity than a class.”
“Why do I not want to ask you to elaborate, Mother?”
She raises her palms with her shoulder shrug. “Naked gardening.”
“What? Did you just say—?”
“It’s not sexy. It’s about connecting to the earth and clearing your energy. You know your father and I have been exploring nudism.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I keep trying to block it out, but you keep reminding me.”
“Well, a group of us meet on a private, secluded estate, and we weed flower beds in the nude. It’s very refreshing.”
I close my eyes. Stella would love her. Adore her really. She’d probably want to do the naked gardening too. And I’m increasingly uncomfortable with the idea. “Thanks for watering my plants. Have fun at your class. Give my best to Dad.”
She stops in the doorway and turns back to me, palming my cheek. “You deserve to be happy, Christopher. Please let yourself.”
When she’s gone, I try to resist the urge, but finally give in and power up my computer, finding the file I’m looking for pretty easily.
The video starts playing, and I’m thrown back into the head and heart of a young, stupid man again. Me. Or at least the man I used to be. The music starts. “Ain’t No Other Man.” There I am. Zoot suit from the ‘20s. Fedora. Lip-synching. Dancing an awkwardly choreographed number. In a food court at the mall where we met. Jesus. Friends join in. Heather’s brother and sister. Her parents. My parents. There I am on my knee. Opening a ring box. Cameras on both of us because we’re being filmed for a cable show called Marry Me Flashmob. There’s Heather’s stunned face. There’s the close-up of me as the realization hits me for the first time that she might say no.
I look...young. Stupid. Weak.
Camera zooms to Heather. She looks...regretful. Sad. Embarrassed.
The show aired this clip, of course. They had the right to. It was good TV, right? I’d signed the contract. No way out.
But it wasn’t just the show that aired the clip.
I got invited to all the late-night talk shows after it went viral. I was known as the “Ain’t No Way Man.” I declined the TV appearances, of course. But it was a public
trial, and I was judged as the idiot who had no idea his girlfriend wasn’t in love with him. That’s what she told me. On camera.
I vowed to not ever face that again. The humiliation. The broken heart. Crushed dreams. I know I’m just not built for that. And life has been easier ever since I decided not to let myself get that close to anyone again. Not to express how I feel inside. Not to hope for anything.
I watch the video again, thinking it will help me stay strong, to know that life with Stella would be my worst nightmare. Never-ending opportunities for YouTube fail videos. I pause on my close-up this time, trying to remember that feeling so I never feel it again.
But I don’t think I looked weak now. I think...I think I looked brave.
I was willing to risk a lot. I was bolder then. Since that day, I’ve been auditing my life instead of engaging in it.
Wasting it, really.
I don’t want to die in a tan apartment, alone and scared of feeling anything. I want color and sparkle and unpredictable chaos in my life.
I want Stella in my life.
My heart is thumping a hundred miles an hour as regret fills my stomach.
If I’d have stayed on that dance floor... we would have spent the night together Saturday. And we’d have been making love all weekend.
And then I might have been brave enough to tell her what I’ve known since that day she careened into my life.
I hope it’s not too late.
Chapter Twenty-One
Stella
I plop the bag of grinders on the bar at Ironwing and take the seat next to Brandon McKendrick, Nash’s dad. “You hungry, Brandon? I’ll split my sandwich with you since we both know Nash won’t share food.”
Nash pops up from behind the bar where he’d been doing...bar things...behind the counter. I don’t know what goes on back there and I don’t want to. It’s like a magician and his tricks. Or Disney and all the stuff you can’t see in the tunnels. I don’t want my beer to lose its magic. “Hey. I share food,” he says.
Brandon laughs. “I already ate lunch. I’m heading out.”
He leaves as I unwrap our food. We try to have lunch together once or twice a month. Nash comes around and sits next to me. “So, the bride make it back from her honeymoon?”