by Kelly Myers
“Have fun.” I give her a wave as she exits my office.
My corner office with the massive mahogany desk and the window that overlooks the lake. I’m still not used to it even though I moved in months ago.
I glance over my desk and smile at the two small framed photos. One is me and Michael. It’s my favorite picture of us. We were out at one of Marianne’s open mics, squeezed into a booth in the corner of a crowded bar. We’re looking at each other, and I can tell from my face that he just whispered some joke in my ear.
Elena was sitting across from us, and she captured the perfect moment.
The other photo is an old one. It’s me, Marianne, Beatrice and Elena, our senior year of college. Our arms are thrown over each other’s shoulders, and we’re all sitting on some bench on our college campus.
We’re so bright and young in that picture. I like to keep it near so I’m reminded of all the dreams we had.
That girl in the photo had so many plans. Some of them panned out. Some of them didn’t. And some things, like Michael, were completely unplanned. And that was terrifying. But somehow, the results were worth it. I like to be reminded of that.
My promotion went smoothly. There was a tough transition period, but seeing Michael nearly every day after work made it better. He supported me every step.
I helped him with his new position as well. I was touched every time Michael asked me for advice with his new job. It made me happy that he respected my opinion that much.
He’s thriving at Meyers and Blunt, and his skills suit a media conglomerate perfectly. It sounds sappy, but I’m proud of him every day.
A buzz from my phone startles me out of my thoughts. It’s Marianne: Are we still on for tonight???!!!
I huff out a laugh. I don’t know why she’s acting like a girls movie night warrants that many exclamation points, but I appreciate her enthusiasm.
All my friends adore Michael. In fact, I was shocked by how quickly they came round on him. Even Beatrice, who spent weeks advising me to forget Michael and go for Dean, thinks he’s hilarious. In fact, when the two of them are together, they act like they’re planning their own comedy duo show.
Even so, I like to make sure I still have Girls Only Nights. I refuse to be one of those women who gets a serious boyfriend and then ditches her best friends. I never did it before, but those boyfriends weren’t Michael. I think I always knew deep down, they weren’t going to last forever.
With Michael, it’s the opposite. We have to last. I can’t imagine us breaking up. After everything we went through to get together, and after how wonderful the last six months have been, I know we are both willing to put in the necessary work to stay together.
My friends have already started joking about picking out bridesmaid dresses, but I’ve told them to stop. I may be in love, but I’m also logical. Michael and I have been together for six months. He only met my parents two months ago, and I just met his mother a few weeks ago. The next logical step in the progression of our relationship is we move in together. According to the flexible timeline I have worked out in my head, we can start discussing that as we approach our one year anniversary.
I explained this all to my friends, and they all rolled their eyes.
“You guys are not a normal relationship,” Marianne said.
“You almost threw away your entire career for him,” Beatrice pointed out.
I argued that it wasn’t quite so dramatic, but they all shouted me down. They were the ones who sat through those emergency meetings, so I suppose they have every right to their opinions.
I pull on my jacket and exit my office.
There’s a bit of a chill in the air, but since it’s May, the sun is out, and the leaves are green. Soon summer will begin in earnest. I grin as I stroll towards the Brown line. I adore summer in Chicago. I love eating out on patios with my friends, and I can’t wait to spend Saturdays at the lake or go on hiking weekend trips with Michael.
We were talking about maybe taking a vacation in August. I suggested Canada, but Michael mocked me. He wanted Paris or Italy. It’s fun to make plans for the future with him, even when he disagrees with me.
When I arrive back at my apartment building, I get another text from Marianne that she and Elena are already inside. Elena has my spare key so they just let themselves in.
I frown and check the time. I would have thought Elena would still be at work.
I shrug and enter the elevator. Maybe she got off early.
I shove my key into my door and push it open.
When I lift my head, I freeze.
There are flowers covering my apartment. Bouquets are resting on the kitchen table and the counter and the coffee table.
The fresh scent of roses wafts over me, but there’s something sweet in the air too. Something is baking in the oven.
And there, in the middle of my apartment, is Michael.
I drop my purse as he gets on one knee.
We had not planned this. Not at all. Of course, I’ve hoped for it. And yes, I’ve spent a fair bit of time daydreaming about it. But I never imagined he would propose so soon. I told him that it was much more practical to get engaged after a full year of dating.
He nodded along, but now I realize he was probably concocting this plot to surprise me and upend all my plans. He loves to do that.
Even so, a silly grin spreads across my face as Michael holds up a small box.
“Zoe Hamilton, you are everything I want for the rest of my life.” Michael’s voice is thick with emotion, and he almost seems nervous. He never gets nervous, and it makes me want to jump right into his arms. Instead I just stand there with my hands clasped together as he continues. “I love your ambition and your work ethic and our brains, and I love how you’re hiding a beautiful and kind heart underneath your serious exterior.”
I suck in my breath as his words hit me. I want to tell him how much I love him. I want to tell him that I love his determination, and I love how happy he is all the time, and I love how much he makes me laugh.
I can’t even speak though, I’m so choked up. He must have been planning this for ages. Marianne and Elena and Beatrice must all be in on it.
They must have thought I was so stupid last week when I was going on and on about how it was so impractical to think about getting engaged so soon.
As if I could actually want to put this feeling off. My heart swells as Michael smiles up at me.
“Will you marry me, Zo?”
For a few seconds, I can only nod. I walk towards him, bobbing my head up and down like an idiot.
“Sorry, I’m going to need a real answer.” Michael starts to stand up, and I hurl myself into his arms.
“Yes!” I cry. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”
His smile lights up the whole room as he leans down to kiss me.
For a few minutes, I stay in his arms as we smile at each other like idiots.
“Oh!” Michael jolts as he remembers. “Don’t you wanna see the ring?”
I shrug. I’m sure it’s fine. Truth be told, I wouldn’t care if he gave me one of those lollipop rings, I’m that happy to be engaged to him.
Michael however seems determined to get it on my finger, so I lean back as he scoops the box up from the floor. He must have dropped it when I threw myself at him.
The ring is perfect. It’s an emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds. I get chills of joy up and down my spine as Michael slides it onto my finger.
“Thank you,” I say. “I can’t believe you planned all this behind my back.”
Michael grins. “I learned from the master planner, after all.”
He leans down and rests his forehead against mine.
“I know it’s too soon,” he says. “But I couldn’t wait, and I wanted to surprise you. Your friends all helped.”
“As a rule, I usually hate surprises,” I say. “But this might just force me to change my mind.”
“Good, because there’s more.” Michael grabs m
y hand and leads me to the door.
I follow with wide eyes.
“Dinner reservations,” he says. “Your friends are waiting.”
I laugh. “Of course they are.”
“Yeah, they said that if they helped with the surprise, I had to let them join the celebration.”
“That sounds about right.”
I look down at my ring again as we exit the apartment. Then I look up at Michael, and I know in my heart, that this was meant to be.
I know Michael is going to keep surprising me for the rest of my life, and I’m not angry about that at all.
Excerpt: My Secret Daddy
He is everything I ever wanted.
But I can never have him.
It was just one night with William Hart.
He took my virginity, but I knew that had to be the end.
I’m too young for him.
And he’s too set in his bachelor ways.
I’m a shy country girl.
William is a powerful lawyer with an extravagant city life.
We could never work.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still want him though.
He may be old enough to be my father,
But that only makes me long for his touch.
One mistake leads to another.
And when I find out I’m pregnant,
I know I’m in trouble...
Olivia
I leaned back on my heels and surveyed the neat row of sugar snap peas behind me.
I had been weeding all morning. The sun was high in the sky, but I had barely noticed the time passing. I never did when I was out in the fields, elbow-deep in the rich soil of the organic farm in Connecticut.
I stood up and stretched, my tan arms cracking with relief. Then I dusted off some dirt on the legs of my jeans and turned back toward the barns. I needed lunch.
When I entered the canteen, only Bridget was around.
“Hiya, Liv,” she said.
Bridget was one of very few people in the world who called me by a nickname. I’d always been Olivia to my mom and my half-brother. I didn’t really remember what my dad called me since I didn’t see him very often before he died. But he wasn’t the type to use nicknames. I did remember that.
Bridget smiled as I grabbed my sandwich from the fridge and sat down at the wooden picnic table across from her. I never gave her express permission to use a nickname, Bridget was just that type of person to give everyone a nickname. She was already well into her forties when she started the organic farm a few years ago, and she’d lived a fast-paced life filled with adventures and travels before she got the idea to buy a plot of land and start producing high-quality fruits, vegetables, butter and other products.
“Hey, Bridget,” I said. “The sugar snaps are gorgeous.”
“It’s been a good summer,” Bridget said.
I settled down and dug into the lunch I had brought from home. I rented a small place just a few miles down the road from the farm. It was cheap this far out in the country, and I enjoyed the quiet.
Bridget cast an appraising eye over me.
“You get up to anything last weekend?” she asked.
“Not really,” I said. “Just stayed in and did laundry, that kind of thing.”
Bridget raised her eyebrows. It killed her that I was twenty-two, supposedly in the prime of my life, and I spent all my time farming and doing home crafts.
She didn’t understand that I wasn’t like her. I didn’t crave a spontaneous life or wild adventures. I liked to be in the peace and quiet of my own home.
Alright, I supposed I craved some wild nights. Who didn’t?
They just always seemed like more trouble than they were worth.
“I’ll need you to go into the city this week to meet with some of the restaurants,” Bridget said.
I looked up in surprise. Bridget knew that I didn’t love going into New York. The bustle and noise of the city overwhelmed me, and the restaurant managers were always yapping about how much produce they needed without the slightest understanding of how farming actually worked.
“I know, babe, but I’ve got to go meet with my manure guy,” Bridget said. “You’ll be fine. Danny at Giovanni’s says he likes you, and you always get the orders right.”
“Ok, should I catch the train down tomorrow?” I asked. “I can ask my friend if I can crash.”
“Perfect,” Bridget said.
She stood up and plopped her blue baseball cap over her messy blonde braid.
“And who knows, if you and Danny hit it off again, maybe he’ll show you around town,” Bridget said with a wink.
I let out a weak laugh and looked back down at my sandwich. That was the thing about working on a farm with only a handful of colleagues and a hippie boss. All semblance of professionalism went right out the window.
It wasn’t that I was shy; it was just that Bridget’s jokes and ribbing constantly made me wonder what I was missing out on.
Was I supposed to be able to get a guy to ask me out to dinner with just a coy smile and a wink? Was there something wrong with me if the thought of walking into a bar and getting some rich corporate guy to buy me a cocktail made me break out in hives?
It wasn’t that I was shy. When I was around people I knew well, I could be comfortable and talk a lot. I just found meeting new people overwhelming. And when it came to men, I was hopeless. It was as if I had missed some critical class on how to date.
I watched Bridget stroll out toward the fields with her long-legged and confident stride. Somehow she found dates even at her age and out in the country.
I wondered what Bridget would say if she ever found out I was a virgin. She would probably command me to grab the closest farmer and find a hay loft. Bridget was all about sexual freedom, and she was always gabbing with the other girls about birth control and new-age sex therapists.
I could never join in. Whenever the conversation turned in that direction, I would suddenly remember a patch of vegetables that needed immediate weeding.
I still liked working on the farm though. After graduating college, my half-brother Richard told me I should get a reasonable and respectable job with a salary and a 401k. I had looked for that kind of thing, but when I saw the job posting to work at the farm in Connecticut, I was intrigued.
Richard had scoffed, and my mom had told me it seemed a little strange, but she was at least glad that I would only be a thirty-minute drive away.
I was a year into the job and I knew I had made the right choice. The farm was interesting, and there was never a dull day. I enjoyed being outdoors, and I liked feeling exhausted at the end of the day.
I finished my sandwich and sighed. Bri had mentioned needing help with the chicken coop today. I much preferred planting to dealing with the livestock, but I had done enough for the sugar snap peas today.
I stood up and adjusted my ponytail. When I first started at the farm, I thought the time outdoors in the sun might bleach my hair a lighter brown or at least give me highlights. Instead, my hair had insisted on remaining so dark it was almost black. My skin, however, had gotten quite tan, even though I wore sunscreen.
I strode out of the barn and crossed the fields toward where we kept the chickens. I could see Bri in the distance, the toolbox by her side. She was the go-to person when it came to repairs.
Even though it was still early August, I was already mourning the end of the summer. The autumn would stay busy, but then activity at the farm would drop off for the winter. We still had to tend to the animals and sell a few products and make connections with the restaurant, but there was much more free time.
Last winter, Bridget had dropped many hints about how winter was a good time to “put myself out there”. This winter, I had a feeling she was going to do more than hint.
The solution was obvious. If I wanted to avoid Bridget’s not-so-subtle matchmaking, I was going to have to take action. I needed to at least try dating. Make friends.
Maybe even los
e my virginity.
My stomach clenched at the thought.
I couldn’t quite explain why it had become such an issue for me.
My mother was religious, and she had raised me Christian, but I had never taken a vow of purity or decided to save myself for marriage. I saw nothing wrong with that, and I respected the women who did.
My question had always been: why marriage? What can marriage guarantee?
As far as I could see, marriage didn’t mean anything.
My mom was my father’s third wife, and their marriage only lasted four years. My mom never recovered. My dad meanwhile dated around and probably would have settled down with a Wife Number Four if he hadn’t died in a car crash when I was eight.
So I wasn’t saving myself for marriage, because I wasn’t exactly impressed by the institution. But I was saving myself for something. Or someone rather.
I wanted someone I could trust. Someone who was responsible and respectful. So many of the guys I had met were childish and rude and immature. I couldn’t even imagine trusting them with my purse, much less my body.
I shook away my cynical thoughts as I arrived at the chicken coop. A few of the boards had fallen off due to wear and tear. Together, Bri and I could fix it in no time.
“I’ve come to lend a hand,” I said.
“Great,” Bri said. “Go on and hold that steady.”
Bri was a local teenager who worked a few hours a day, and she was quiet. She never spoke more than was necessary. I liked that about her.
For the next hour, Bri and I didn’t exchange a word beyond occasional directions of where to place a nail.
When we were done, I cleaned up the chicken coop area and fed the chickens. I checked for eggs as well, but came up empty. They usually laid in the morning.
Then I met up with Bridget to go over the details of my trip to the city. I would meet with three restaurants to discuss the orders and delivery schedule for the upcoming month.
Bridget wanted me to push the sweetcorn. I wasn’t much of a salesperson at all, but I told her I would do my best.
At the end of the day, I hopped into my used Jeep and drove to the little one-bedroom house I rented. I showered and changed into my pajamas even though it was barely seven. Then I double-checked the train schedule for the next day.