by Penny Reid
“Yes. Ferns are much more environmentally friendly than flowers. Also, there are hundreds of varieties, and they come in a vast array of colors.”
My smile grew because his eyes widened with alarm.
CHAPTER 10
It was Tuesday night, and nothing was settled.
We arrived home late Sunday night. He carried me from the limo to the apartment to the bed, and undressed me while I lay complicit and dozing. I awoke Monday mid-morning to the chiming of my cell phone. Quinn must have found it in my luggage, charged it, and placed it on my bedside table at some point.
I gave the noisy device a dirty look and cursed it. Nevertheless, I glanced at the screen then bolted upright in bed. The alert was for three text messages from Quinn. The initial texts sent back-to-back at 9:00 a.m. made me smile.
The third message made me frown.
Part of me wondered if the New York trip was just a way to avoid discussing the wedding plans. On the flight home, his eyes had glazed over whenever I tried to show him pictures of centerpiece ferns and groomsmen tuxedos.
Regardless, Quinn had called briefly from New York on Monday night, just long enough for me to determine that he was dead tired and needed to go to sleep. He also texted then called me Tuesday morning for a quick I love you and I miss you that made my knees weak and my brain witless.
Therefore, nothing was resolved.
Yes, we’d attacked each other in the bathroom of the airplane.
Yes, the oxytocin it released into my system had gone a long way toward re-affirming our bond within my brain. At some point I would have to sort through how much of the bond was brain chemistry and how much of it was corporeal. For now, I was going to assume it was mostly corporeal.
But, no, we hadn’t yet talked through the ramifications of Quinn’s admission about the private clients.
Instead of obsessing over whether or not I’d displayed good judgment by seducing my fiancé rather than talking through our issues then seducing my fiancé, I decided that I would focus my energy on sorting through the situation as it currently stood and define a list of action items.
First, I was going to write down all of my concerns and questions related to Quinn’s admission and our impending marriage.
Then, when he came back from New York, we were going to sit down and review all the concerns and questions.
After that, I was pretty sure I was going to seduce him again.
And, lastly, I was going to force him to go through an entire wedding magazine and discuss whether the cake should be white with white frosting or chocolate with white frosting.
One thing I was sure of based on every wedding cake picture I’d seen was that wedding cakes should have white frosting.
But first I had to break the news of our engagement to my knitting group.
I decided to show up late to knit night for a few reasons. Mostly, I wanted everyone to find out at the same time rather than one at a time as they arrived. I would tell them as a group, they could have their reaction, and then we could move on to other topics rather than dragging it out.
I had no idea what to expect.
Therefore, I emailed Marie from work that I would be one hour late. I stopped by a shop to pick up two extra bottles of red wine, mentally rehearsed what I would say, and worried a little that they wouldn’t be supportive of my decision. After all, Quinn and I had only been together for a few months.
Turns out, I needn’t have worried.
As soon as Marie opened the door to her apartment, I was greeted with a very loud, cheerful chorus of “SURPRISE!”
They were all standing in the small entryway wearing hats and blowing noisemakers, and smiling at me like I’d just told them I’d solved world hunger.
I opened my mouth to respond, but didn’t get to do anything other than puff out a breath as Elizabeth pulled me through the door and I was surrounded by a six-woman group hug.
“I’m so happy for you!”
“Let’s see the ring!”
“Give her a minute.”
“How did he do it?”
“Did you bring us anything from London?”
“Nice shoes! Can I borrow them?”
They ushered me into Marie’s crowded apartment, all speaking at once, and I started to laugh—and cry.
Elizabeth, the first to notice, shushed the group and pressed my hand between hers. “Janie? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Through my tears and laughter, I managed to splutter, “It’s just…you just all….” I sniffled and pressed my lips together to keep my chin from wobbling as my gaze moved over their happy, slightly perplexed, somewhat worried faces. “I was nervous about telling you and you already know and it’s such a relief and you’re all so happy for me and I am just so lucky that you’re all my friends.”
“Aww.” Ashley’s arms encircled my shoulders from behind. “Of course we’re happy for you!”
“We all are,” Fiona added, giving me a sincere smile. “You deserve every good thing.”
“And we brought presents!” Sandra’s eyes were huge and excited, and she wagged her eyebrows as she added, “Spoiler alert, I bought you edible underwear. Also, further spoiler alert—they’re a matching his-and-hers set.”
Everyone burst out laughing, and Kat covered her face—which had turned beet red.
“Come in and sit down.” Marie pushed me to the sofa while everyone else settled in around me. “We have champagne and lemon drops. I didn’t know which one you preferred.”
“A lemon drop sounds great, and I brought wine too.” I held up my bag, which was promptly confiscated and passed to Marie.
The barrage of questions began again, and I held my hands up. “Wait, before I tell you the how and when, what do you already know? And how did you all know?”
Elizabeth sat forward. “It was me. Remember a few weeks ago when I met you and Quinn at the bathroom fixtures shop?”
“The one on West Lake Street? With all the sinks on the wall?” Fiona asked. She added with a faraway look, “I love that place.”
“Yes, that’s the one. Well, Quinn told me about his intentions then. I helped him pick out the rings in exchange for a heads-up when he asked.”
“So, Quinn told you?” I was astonished, both that Quinn and Elizabeth had worked together, and also that Elizabeth had been able to keep the proposal a secret for so long. Then again, even though we were technically roommates, we hardly saw each other anymore. Since moving into the building just over a month ago, I usually spent most of my days and nights at Quinn’s place.
“Yes. He texted me Friday at, like, one in the morning—which I guess would have been seven in the morning in London.”
“What did he say?” Ashley asked. “You never did show us the text.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said in a droll tone, “All he texted was it’s done. Of course I knew what he was talking about, but a few more details would have been nice.”
“How did he do it, Janie?” Sandra bounced in her seat next to me. “Leave nothing out. We want all the juicy details.”
So I told them.
When I came to the part about the glass case filled with rings, Elizabeth chimed in.
“That was my idea! He came across an estate sale—or, I think his secretary did—where some ancient family in Scotland was auctioning off all their jewels. He had over two hundred to choose from, so it was hard to narrow them down to one. Do you like it?”
I nodded and held my hand out so everyone could see. “Yes, it’s perfect.”
“He thought so, too. I narrowed it down to five, and he picked out that one. I’m so glad you like it.”
“I love it,” I admitted. “I feel somewhat uncomfortable about loving a material thing so much. I worry it’s unhealthy.”
“More than your shoes?” Ashley asked, “I know how much you love your shoes, because I love your shoes.”
I responded without hesitation, “More than my shoes.”
“Whoa.
” Ashley’s eyes were huge. “That’s a lot.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Makes sense to me.” Fiona’s words caught my attention. “It’s a symbol, the ring. Really, it’s him you love. The ring is symbolic of him and everything you are to each other. Of course you love the ring.”
“I like that,” Kat interjected, a soft smile on her face, her eyes a little dazed. “It’s so romantic, him taking you to London to see the Crown Jewels, then giving you a priceless, antique ring from a noble Scottish family.” She sighed as she leaned back in her chair.
“Is that how you want to be proposed to?” Marie asked Kat, handing me my lemon drop and placing a pitcher full of liquid happiness on the coffee table.
Kat’s eyes lost some of their dazzle. “Honestly, I’d settle for someone who’s honest, doesn’t rely on emotional blackmail to solve arguments, and treats me like I matter more than who my family is. I sometimes wonder if guys like that exist.”
“They do.” Fiona reached over and squeezed her leg. “You just need to find your own version of Quinn, but maybe not as grumpy, and nicer to your friends.”
I was about to ask Kat to explain her concerns, as I had no idea who her family was, but Sandra spoke before I was able to.
“Everyone be silent so we can hear the rest of Janie’s story!” Sandra commanded, waving her hands through the air. She then turned to me, her elbow on her knee, her chin propped in her hand, and a giant grin plastered on her face. “Okay, go on. What happened next?”
I continued with my story—about how Quinn was called away and how I was led to the torture device room—and Ashley guessed that he hadn’t actually been called away for a phone call, but rather to get the ring out of the case so he could propose.
This theory was met with nods of approval and more shushing from Sandra.
Then, I told them about the rack, and the room broke into chaos of laughter, gasps, high fives, and whooping.
“That sly dawg!” Ashley giggled, slapped her knee, and lifted her drink toward me. “What an opportunist. I love Quinn.”
“That’s so amazingly awesome. That’s how I want it to happen. I want to be on the rack when I’m proposed to. Someone make a note!” Sandra hugged me as she made this assertion.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Of course. Of course he proposes while you’re incapacitated. Typical McHotpants.”
“I think it’s sexy.” Marie clinked her glass with Ashley’s. “I like his entrepreneurial spirit. Maybe if David had asked me to marry him while I was tied up, I might have given him a different answer.”
Her statement shocked me. David was Marie’s boyfriend and they’d been dating for more than five years. I was tangentially surprised to learn that he’d asked her to marry him; this was the first I’d heard of it. Again tangentially, I wondered whether Marie was at all interested in marriage; she seemed to value her independence above everything else.
Fiona merely shook her head and chuckled to herself. Kat gaped at me with wide eyes, obviously stunned.
Rather than asking Marie to clarify about David, I finished my story. I told them about the dinner on the river Thames and our agreement to have a big wedding, but I left out the frantic tent interlude because it felt like that would be oversharing.
“He wanted to get married today? As in, less than a week after he proposed?” Fiona frowned at me, perplexed.
“That was my reaction too. And, as it turns out, he’s in New York right now, called away on a trip, and we would’ve had to postpone the ceremony in any case.”
“I’m confused.” Marie leaned forward and withdrew a knitting work in progress from her bag. “Let me see if I have this right: he wanted to get married immediately, you then negotiated the timeline, and now you’re getting married in three months? And you insisted on a big wedding?”
“Yes, except it’s two months and twenty six days.”
“I’m really surprised.” Elizabeth reached for my now empty lemon drop glass and refilled it. “I didn’t think you’d want a big wedding.”
“It’s not that I want a big wedding; it’s that I think Quinn and I need to experience something other than dating bliss before we get married.”
“I don’t understand.” Fiona glanced from me to Elizabeth then back again. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’re having a big wedding so we can be miserable together before we’re happy together. We’ve never been miserable before. How can you make a decision to marry someone if you’ve never been miserable with them?”
“Janie….” Fiona’s face scrunched in confusion. “Happiness is not fleeting if you accept it. But if you keep looking for ways to postpone your own happiness, it will always be elusive.”
I frowned, blinked at her. “I’m not trying to postpone my happiness. I’m trying to make sure we’re solid before we make promises.”
“So….” Elizabeth raised a single eyebrow at me, her chin dipping to her chest. “Are you going to do that thing where you stop having sex prior to the ceremony?”
“Elizabeth….” Fiona’s voice held a note of warning. “Be nice.”
Elizabeth gave Fiona her very best Who, me? I’m completely innocent! look. I knew that look well. It didn’t work on me anymore, and considering Fiona’s stern eyebrows, I didn’t think it was working on Fiona either.
“No, really. It’s a real thing.” Marie nodded. “Elizabeth’s wanting to torture Quinn aside, I read an article about it in Cosmopolitan. Since so many couples are having sex before marriage these days, abstaining while planning the ceremony is supposed to be a way to make the wedding night special.”
“By making the bride and groom go insane?” Fiona asked, glancing away from her knitting. “Planning a wedding is stressful enough without having to abstain from physical intimacy.”
My mind snagged on the idea, picked it up, turned it over, and began assessing it from all angles. Then, my mind ran with it.
Rather than belt out, Eureka! I asked without thinking, “Do you really think abstinence would dramatically increase the level of stress prior to the wedding?”
Fiona’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits as she studied me. “Janie, you make it sound like you want the wedding planning to be stressful.”
“I do,” I admitted, nodding emphatically. “I do want it to be stressful. Quinn and I have only been together for five months. Like I said, we have to fit years of the worst into approximately two months so we can both say our vows with our eyes open.”
Fiona stared at me, her mouth agape, her expression plainly shocked. “That’s craziness. You’re crazy, Janie. I can’t…I can’t even….”
Elizabeth laughed. “I’ve never seen Fiona speechless before.”
“Well, I think it’s a good idea.” Sandra shrugged and lifted her chin in my direction. “I can’t imagine marrying someone I’ve only known for five or six months. Good for you, making him wait another twelve weeks before tying the knot, and you’re a smart woman for introducing some hardship—even if it’s contrived—and being honest about your concerns. Granted, this is coming from the girl who makes all her first dates cry and whose longest relationship was in high school…so…grain of salt.”
“I’m afraid to voice an opinion,” Ashley volunteered, her eyes focused on the scarf she was knitting. “On one hand, I see your point, Janie, and I think your plan is very pragmatic; it would make logical sense if feelings weren’t involved. On the other hand, you two crazy kids are in love with each other. Maybe it’s the romantic in me, but applying logic to love is like buttering a pig before you slaughter it.”
“You have a romantic in you?” Sandra teased, fighting a smile.
“Yes I do, Freud,” Ashley responded, issuing Sandra a look of mock dissatisfaction. “I just save my love for fictional characters and my knitting group, and God knows why I put up with you.”
“What about you, Kat? What do you think?” Elizabeth nudged Kat with her elbow, prompting her out of her silence.
“What do I think?”
Elizabeth nodded then turned her sweater to begin a new row. “Yeah, what’s your take?”
Kat’s wide eyes glanced around the room. “Uh….” She cleared her throat then turned her attention to me. “It might sound like a cop-out, Janie, but I think you need to follow your heart. And if your heart is uncertain of Quinn, and as long as you’re being honest with him….” She ended the unfinished thought with a shrug, and her soft brown eyes told me she’d support me in whatever I decided.
“It’s not that I’m uncertain of him. It’s that I want our marriage to be built on a strong foundation. Right now, we’ve only had good times. We haven’t been tested. I haven’t been tested.”
“Withholding your body for the next several months certainly would be a test for Quinn.” Elizabeth gave me an evil grin, even though her words sounded like a warning.
“Well, I wouldn’t do it unless he agreed to it.” I crossed my arms, my attention shifting to a spot over Elizabeth’s shoulder as I thought through how to convince Quinn to go without sex for the next eleven-ish weeks. “If we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, then abstinence for the next three-ish months shouldn’t be that big of a deal.” After I said the words, I wondered if I could actually last that long without his hands and mouth and…other parts.
“Good luck with that!” Marie shook her head and lifted her glass in my direction. “If you can manage to convince Quinn to go without physical intimacy while you’re planning the wedding, then I might hire you as my agent—because your powers of persuasion would obviously be magical.”
“I think everyone is overlooking the most important part of this whole situation, which is Janie’s insistence that she have a traditional wedding.” Sandra glanced around at us, her green eyes wide and serious.
“What is that?” Ashley sighed. “And you better not say bridesmaids dresses because, as much as I love Janie and will wear whatever she tells me to wear, I have never seen a bridesmaid dress that did anything but make the wearer look like Molly Ringwald in that movie Pretty in Pink. Was that not the ugliest dress? Why did she think she’d look good in that dress? That didn’t make any sense.”