by Dawn McClure
She’d been starving when they’d sat down at the table, but now she wasn’t sure she could choke down the food. Mel cleared her throat, slightly uneasy as to where this conversation could go. “Uh, I guess I’d like a few kids. A house out in the suburbs so we could be near a nice school.” Growing up, she’d always envisioned the same things, only she’d envisioned them in Pine Grove. On a small ranch. Five kids. John. She cleared her throat. “Two-car garage. Dog. A Golden Retriever to be precise.”
Two, actually, but she kept that detail to herself.
Maybe she was more country than she thought. Liam probably wanted a condo, so he wouldn’t have to deal with yardwork. And kids? He’d never mentioned them, but he did have a few nephews that he patted on the head whenever they visited his real estate office. And a dog? She glanced at that expensive suit of his. Yeah. She might have lost him on the dog. His mother had two Shih Tzus, and Liam hated them. Absolutely loathed them.
Probably because his mother treated those two dogs better than she did her husband and kids put together. Mel suddenly heard her mother’s voice admonishing her for being petty, so Mel tried to think about his family without judging.
She finally looked at his face to gauge his reaction. He was staring at her, those dark brown eyes of his intense, his body as rigid as a wax doll. It was as though he'd been frozen in time. Either she’d hit the nail on the head or he was trying to figure out a polite way to break up with her. At the moment, she wasn’t sure which scenario she preferred.
He said nothing, so she countered, “You?”
He slipped his napkin under the table and placed it over his lap with a precision that made her want to grind her teeth. “I think kids are great—a few years down the road.”
“We’re close to thirty,” she reminded him, thinking she’d just pound the point home that they weren’t ready to say, “I do”. She didn’t want to end their relationship, she just wanted him to slow down a bit. It was obvious to her that they weren’t on the same page with what they wanted in life. Maybe they were better staying where they were. Forever might not agree with them.
Hell, forever rarely agreed with anyone.
“We’ll have to come to an agreement on an animal.” He looked up at her. “I like fish. I had an aquarium when I was a kid.”
He’d had an aquarium as a kid? He just said he liked fish. Not exactly cuddlers, and certainly not the type of animal you could take adorable pictures of and slap all over Instagram. This was the year of the floppy-eared puppy and the yawning kitten. No one took pictures of their cute fish and followed it up with a hashtag.
A few gasps and one surprised, high-pitched squeal tore their attention away from their exciting gills or paws debate. A woman seated two tables down from them held her hands together against her mouth as her boyfriend—oh Lord. Proposal at table four. Cue the oohs and aahs.
Mel couldn’t hear the exact words the kneeling man uttered, but the young woman nodded her head and got to her feet the same second the man did, a tearful smile on her face. The couple embraced, and the dining area was drowned in the upper crust golf clap of people who were too well bred to make a little noise.
Liam, who’d turned completely around in his chair to watch the spectacle, turned back to her and gave her a huge smile. “You know what? A small dog might not be such a bad idea.”
A beer. She really needed a beer.
_______
Carrying two grande peppermint mochas made with soy, heavy on the whip, Mel felt a little more like herself as she headed down the main hallway of BDI’s headquarters the next morning. As always, Mel had freaked out a little when it came to something she hadn’t seen coming, and frankly, finding out Liam was going to propose had been a shocker, but it wasn’t the end of the world.
Who wouldn’t be shocked at finding out their boyfriend had plans on proposing Christmas morning? Especially in front of his entire family, of whom she didn’t think particularly liked her. Who wouldn’t be slightly shocked and dismayed and...oh, hell with it. Who was she kidding? She couldn't talk herself down anymore, which was why she was carrying coffee for two and making a bee-line for Cindy’s office.
She wasn’t entirely sure if she was going to say yes to his proposal, or if she was even going to accompany him to his parents’ cabin for Christmas. She just didn’t know what to do, and a mostly sleepless night hadn’t helped her decision-making skills.
She heaved out a sigh of frustration as she slipped through the cracked door of Cindy’s office and approached her pristine glass desk. Cindy, her newly prescribed reading glasses on the tip of her nose, glanced up at Mel when she set the peppermint mocha directly in front of her and took a military step back. The drink had been Mel’s favorite since she’d been in high school, and she’d gotten Cindy hooked on it as well.
This was Mel’s way of saying help. Please.
Cindy looked over her stylish black-rimmed glasses, her expression somewhere between “Get the hell out of my office” and “I’m slightly intrigued by what I might hear”. Mel guessed Cindy was feeling a little of both when her friend sighed and said, “Let me guess. There’s something you want to talk to me about and it absolutely cannot wait.”
This was precisely how they began all of their serious conversations. Mel’s offering of a mocha, her pulling a chair up to the desk, and then saying something like, “I don't know what to do" or “You’re not going to believe this”. Mel could get a little dramatic at times. Cindy, on the other hand, never got dramatic. She was always calm, cool and collected, which was why their serious discussions always revolved around Mel’s life.
Cindy was twelve years older than Mel’s grand old age of twenty-six, and she’d usually been there and done that. Knowing Cindy had once been married and never intended to go that route ever again—even if it meant securing global peace—Mel knew where to find good advice. Of course, Mel always had to overlook the ingrained cynicism that was now a part of Cindy’s moral fiber. There was no getting around that.
Might as well get straight to the point, since it looked as though Cindy were busy. “Liam is planning on asking me to marry him Christmas morning.” When Cindy said nothing and didn’t look particularly shocked, Mel added, “In front of his entire family.”
Cindy still hadn’t blinked or given any indication that the news could be unsettling in any way. In fact she shrugged and said, “Say no. Trust me on that.”
Well, that was blunt. It took a few seconds for Mel to recover and find her voice. She should be used to Cindy’s personality by now, but her friend certainly had a way of wording things that took a moment to digest, and sometimes her bluntness threw Mel off-guard. “I’m thinking I might, but then I'm not sure. If I say no, I’m guessing our relationship is probably over.” She slowly lowered herself into a chair in front of the desk. “He’s already been pushing me to move in with him and I’ve stayed at my own condo because I’m super comfortable there. I can do whatever I want whenever I want. I mean, who wants to give up that freedom?”
Having grown up with three brothers, Mel adored her freedom. She was hard-pressed to relinquish it. She didn’t want to share a bathroom. Didn’t want to lose the one space on this planet where she could go and shut the door to the outside world and go on a Netflix binge. She cleared her throat. “On the other hand, he's a great catch.”
Cindy snatched the reading glasses off her face and sat back in her chair. “A great catch? He’s not a fish, Mel. He’s a grown man.”
“Oh, God, please don’t mention fish.”
“I'm not even going to ask.” Cindy sighed and picked up her mocha, taking a sip before she continued. “You’re not at all cynical like I am, and yet you're thinking of telling Liam no.” She shook her head as though she were trying to figure out the problem. “I thought you liked him?”
Mel gave her a look that said ‘bingo!’ and pointed a finger at her. “Exactly. I like him. To say yes to a proposal shouldn’t I love him? You know, the way Carrie talke
d about her fiancé before they got married. She’d said they couldn’t stand to be apart even during the work day. She made us all sick with her lovey-dovey talk. I don’t talk like that about Liam. Not even close.”
“First of all, Carrie’s an idiot. Second of all, Carrie and Jeff are not who we should be referring to when talking about possible relationship plateaus—they’re divorced. Besides, you’ve said you loved Liam in the past. Haven't you told him you loved him? You certainly told me a number of times. Do you not love him anymore?”
She loved his body. His work ethic. Sure, she loved him. He was a great guy. “Yes, but I saw this text from his brother last night, about Liam’s surprise proposal, and now I don't know how I feel.”
The side of Cindy’s mouth tilted up. “You snooped on his phone? Red flag.”
Mel shook her head emphatically. They’d had this conversation before. Cindy was a huge believer that if a woman snooped on her partner’s cell, their relationship was close to ending. Snooping, to Cindy’s way of thinking, meant the woman didn’t trust her man. Which meant she didn’t think much of his character. Snooping was the death of a relationship. “No, I didn’t snoop. He was in the bathroom and left his cell on the table. I just...leaned over a little. Peeked, at the most.”
“You snooped.”
“Anyway,” Mel said dismissively, “I'm not sure what to do. I don’t feel butterflies when I think about him, and I don’t get giddy when I see him. Shouldn’t I feel those things?” She took a sip of her mocha and did her best not to look forlorn. Liam was a perfect catch. Absolutely perfect. As she'd sat across from him at dinner last night she’d tried to come up with one reason not to marry him. Just one thing about him that would stop her—or any woman—from marrying him.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing came to mind.
Sure, she found certain things about him annoying. Like his OCD when it came to cleanliness. She was a neat-freak herself, but he took house and car care to a whole new level. She didn’t know anyone else who got their car detailed every other month. His car was spotless, and he worked diligently to keep it that way. He didn’t even have kids or a dog to mess it up. But that would change if they tied the knot, wouldn’t it? What would he do if one of his kids spilled cereal or juice in his Mercedes? What if that Golden Retriever she’d talked about jumped into his car with muddy paws? Liam would likely shit himself.
“You’ve been watching too many Hallmark movies. That’s just not real life, Mel. You’re twenty-six, not seventeen. Older people don’t get giddy. We’re too jaded for that shit.” Cindy slipped her reading glasses back on her nose, a distasteful look on her face. “Speaking of, how old do these make me look?”
The change in topic jarred Mel enough to make her wince. She tried to steer the conversation back to what was important. “Cindy, you should hear Samantha in advertising talk about meeting her fiancé. She literally used the word butterflies and told me she knew she was going to marry him from the second she saw him.”
“Seriously, how old do I look?”
“You look like a sexy librarian. We’ve already gone over this.”
Cindy sat straighter in her chair, slipped the offending glasses off again, and motioned to her laptop with them. “I’m looking for a nostalgic piece to go on our blog the week leading up to Christmas. One article a day. I'm thinking outside of the box,” Cindy said, sweeping a hand through the air. “What if you went home for Christmas? The wreaths, the smell of pine, the small town feel.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “This proposal. You up for it?”
Again, Cindy had whipped the conversation in a different direction without breaking stride, casting Mel off balance. “Small town feel? That’s...wait, what?” she stuttered.
“Different,” Cindy offered. “Unique. I know we’re city-based and most of our readers wear heels, not boots, but people are really going for that rustic crap lately. If I hear one more woman talk about a DIY wood project I might vomit. But hey, it’s popular. Might as well jump on the train while it’s moving in that direction. We’ll just call it country chic.”
Mel wasn’t budging. She could steer conversations too. She hadn’t come in here to discuss the latest DIY Christmas wreath all the women were making. “Liam wants to go home to his parents, not mine. I'm not sure how nostalgic that would be for me. More like nerve-wracking. Especially since I’m not sure I'm going to say yes. That’s why I'm here with mocha.” She raised her to-go cup. “Remember?”
“If you pull this off I’ll transfer you from senior blog contributor to a column writer for the magazine. I need readers, Mel. I need people to purchase the magazine, be it the physical magazine or the digital. I need you to keep the readers interested throughout the last week of this holiday season. Convince them to buy subscriptions for last-minute presents. I mean, just think about it. Going home to South Dakota will do you good. You could, I don’t know, catch up with old friends.”
Mel got to her feet and glared down at Cindy, finally realizing what Cindy was up to. Mel wanted to believe her talent would get her to be a senior writer at the magazine, but she was beginning to lean towards something more suspect. She narrowed her eyes. “You want me to go home so I run into John.”
Not that the man hadn’t popped into her mind about a thousand times last night when she was trying to go to sleep. And why wouldn’t he? There was a time in her life when she’d thought—no, she’d known—that she was going to marry John Harrison. She’d just been proposed to, so yeah, John had crossed her mind. Didn’t mean anything.
Cindy looked genuinely shocked for a few seconds, and Mel totally bought into it, thinking she’d really offended her friend and boss, until Cindy’s face fell. “Damn. You’re finally starting to catch on to my devious mind. Pulling one over on you is going to get harder from here on out.”
Mel took a rapid intake of breath for that dramatic ah-ha! effect. “You do! You want me to run into John. That’s absurd. Like I'm going to run into him and all the pieces of my life are going to magically fit together.”
“What’s absurd is that a hot man with a fat bank account is going to propose to you and you walked into my office with your face scrunched up like you’d just walked by a Porta Potty at a busy construction site. I'm thinking you don't love him at all. It’s like you said. Maybe you like him, but you don’t love him. After nearly a year together you should have some pretty solid feelings for him by now.”
“That’s...blunt.” As always.
“And likely accurate. But that John guy you used to talk about when you first moved to California? I remember your whole face lighting up when you talked about him. And trust me, you were worse than Carrie ever thought of being. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think John is for you. I think you remember butterflies with him and compare that to the mature way you’ve responded to Liam. And I really do need you to write this blog series, because we lose a lot of readers over the holidays. Your articles from a snowy, small country town might keep some of them around. Not to mention, when you run into John, you’ll finally realize that you’ve romanticized the past. Your going home will kill two birds with one stone. That’s the secret to success right there.”
Mel hadn’t thought about John in quite a while until last night. She'd been busy writing articles and keeping up with the Jones’. John was nothing like Liam. John was kind and hardworking, like Liam, but after that, they were polar opposites. Country versus city. Laid back versus fast-paced. Rusted Chevy versus spotless Mercedes. “Cindy, that’s so over. And to be honest, he was two years older than me and was always five steps ahead. He left for college and we talked for a while, but...yeah.” They’d grown apart. By the time John had come home from college she’d already gone off to college, and the rest, as they say, was history. Her heart hadn’t exactly broken as much as it had slowly run out of gas.
Her mother had told her a long time ago that John worked with his father and his brother, Mike, at their family-owned hardware store, and kept up his small ranch. Me
l didn’t have a clue what he was up to now or if he was even single, nor did she particularly care. They’d been inseparable for a few years, but they’d grown apart, as most childhood friends eventually did. She still had this goofy picture of the two of them sledding down Death-Drop Hill, a place where everyone took their sleds in the dead of winter, when they’d been teenagers, in her old photo album. Actually, she’d just seen that picture last week—
“That’s the look.”
Mel snapped out of her reminiscing and looked down at Cindy, confused. “Huh?”
“You were thinking about John, weren’t you?”
“So?”
“You got that same look on your face as you did when you talked about him years ago.”
She had? “Your point is moot. I'm not going home for Christmas.”
Cindy put on her business face. “Actually, you are. I need pictures of pine trees, snowy roads, and Christmas decorations. You once told me that they go all out in... Where are you from in South Dakota again?”
“Pine Grove.”
“Yeah. You said they used to decorate their Main Street like Santa threw up on it. Get me those pictures. Get me pictures of family and friends and a big turkey on the table for dinner. Plaid bows and cups of hot chocolate shared with the neighbor kids. Door-to-door caroling in a foot of fresh snow while freezing your ass off. You get the picture. If you give me a great story and great pictures, there’s a new office and a promotion in your future.”
Oh, she got the picture all right. She'd lived it before, and she certainly didn’t want to go back. “Cindy, please. I can’t.”
“I'm sending you on a working vacation as both your boss and your friend. Mel, you need to go home, even if it’s only to close that chapter of your life. You’re not excited about Liam’s proposal because you never let go of the image of John you’ve kept in your mind all these years.”