The Commitment Test (The Marin Test Series Book 2)

by Aksel, Amanda

  “I know what you’re going to say,” I told him.

  “And what’s that?”

  “You’re going to say, ‘Marin, after everything you’ve been through, you shouldn’t have been so naïve, getting your hopes up like a little girl. You should know better. You’re thirty-three now. You need to have more realistic expectations instead of getting hung up on dreams and fairytales.’ Or something like that.”

  He blinked incredulously for a moment. “Wow, you’re thirty-three?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Actually, I was going to say that sucks. You seemed so happy yesterday.”

  I sighed in frustration. Of course, he would choose this moment to be kind. Now he was going to think that I believed everything I said that I thought he was going to say. And I didn’t believe it. At least I didn’t think I did. Did I?

  “So what happened?” he asked.

  “He asked me to move in,” I said still frowning.

  “That’s good.” He rubbed his finger against his chin, which made a slight scratching noise. It reminded me of James and how I loved to stroke his five o’clock shadow when I cuddled with him at night. I wanted those moments to last forever.

  I nodded, giving another long sigh of defeat.

  “Don’t you want to move in with James?” he asked.

  “Yeah, after we’re married, if we ever get married.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes, hating that I had to say it aloud. “He says he’s not ready to get married.”

  Andy chuckled. “Yeah, that’s because guys are never ready to get married.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yeah, it’s true. I hate to break it to you now that you’re not engaged, but guys never want to get married, they’re just eventually forced into it.”

  “Whatever. How much longer do I have to wait?”

  “Just be patient, Marin. Put in the time, be a good girlfriend, and one day you’ll be Mrs. James Young.”

  “But what if it doesn’t happen?”

  “It will. Besides, he’s asked you to get a place together. That’s a step in the marriage direction. Trust me it’s better to live together first.”

  “Not for me. Chad moved in before we were to be married and it scared him into an affair. If James and I are married before we live together, he’s more committed and less likely to do something damaging.”

  “First of all, that isn’t true. If James is a cheater, he is going to cheat regardless. But we’ve already established that he’s a dad, not a cad, right?” Andy argued, referencing our therapy sessions. “And second, I thought we worked through your issues with Chad. You’re starting to make me second guess my work.”

  I shrugged at this notion. I didn’t know it was an issue, but apparently it had been there in the background all along.

  “Don’t worry about it, Andy. I’m going to move in with him despite my so-called issues. It’s not ideal, but I’ll take it.”

  “Good.”

  “Why do you know it’s better to move in first?” I asked.

  “Because, I got married before we lived together. That wasn’t the reason for my divorce, but if I had lived with my ex for a year before the wedding there probably wouldn’t have been a wedding. That’s all I’m saying.”

  He made a valid point, which I agreed with for everyone else. Now, I’d have to convince myself it was the right thing for my relationship too. Then I had another thought. “Do you think he wants to wait because he’s divorced?” I asked.

  “That’s a possibility,” he said and glanced down at his cell phone, commented on the time, and quickly left my office.

  That Friday evening, James and I met at a pizza place in my neighborhood. My mouth watered as he chomped on a greasy piece of pizza and I nibbled on my salad. I recalled the days that I could pound pizza, burgers and fries, and chocolate cake without gaining an ounce, but sometime around thirty, that luxury had disappeared. I got lucky, some of my friends had to stop the junk food binge at twenty-five.

  “We’re all set with Jared for tomorrow afternoon,” James said.

  “Jared?” I asked.

  “My realtor friend, remember?”

  “Oh, right.”

  James was quick to start the process, which was a good sign. The thought of apartment hunting for a new place with James was kind of exciting, and I tried to relish in that feeling, reminding myself that moving in with the man I loved wasn’t the worst consolation prize for a non-marriage proposal. “Do you mind if I bring Telly? She’s my sound real estate advisor.”

  “Telly’s a divorce lawyer,” he said.

  “She owns three places.”

  He nodded. “Then bring her along.”

  “Can you pick me up in the morning?” I asked.

  He nodded with his mouth full of pizza. I checked the time.

  “Are you almost done?” I asked. “Holly’s picking me up in an hour.” He swallowed his bite and took a swig from his iced tea.

  “Yep, we can go,” he said. I hopped off of my chair and planted a kiss on his mouth. He really was a great boyfriend.

  Later, I met Holly, Telly, and a few of our friends for a belated birthday celebration at Parlor, a lounge bar near the Marina district.

  “Happy birthday, Marin!” Holly shouted when I walked in. She greeted me with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Holly was my oldest friend and I had spent all my birthdays with her.

  “Your hair looks good and your boots are so cute,” I told her. She was clearly trying to dress up her casual look by taming her wild and wavy brown locks.

  Rachel, her younger sister, embraced me in another birthday hug. “You know, I can never get her to put on a skirt.” Rachel’s smile was brighter against her unseasonably tanned skin.

  “You’re glowing,” I said.

  She blushed and waved her hand around her face. “This is from St. Barts.”

  Next to Holly stood a woman with a full head of tight curls and dark luminous skin. Holly pulled her in.

  “Marin, this is Corrine, from work.”

  “Nice to meet you, Corrine,” I said.

  Corrine greeted me with a firm handshake and friendly eyes. “Happy birthday. I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along.”

  “The more the merrier.”

  “Hey, birthday girl!” Telly announced as she arrived with a small tray of shots.

  “That better not be tequila,” I told her.

  “Relax, it’s SoCo and lime.”

  Yeah, like whiskey was any better. I sighed.

  We each took a full glass from the tray. Telly leaned over. “Too bad you’re committed, because there are some hotties here tonight.”

  I looked around the room. She was right. There were some cuties. But like she said, I was committed. Well, soon-to-be-living-together committed.

  “I’m gonna get me some,” Telly sang and shook her hips like a true Latina.

  “You can’t be hungover tomorrow. I need you to come with us to look at apartments.”

  “What time?” she asked.

  “Noon.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Marin, it’s your twenty-ninth birthday. Let’s have a good time tonight, noon tomorrow is hours away.”

  If Telly wanted to pretend I was turning twenty-nine, then I could stand to have a few drinks with her. Telly lifted her shot, and we rose our glasses to meet hers.

  “To Marin on her birthday!” she said.

  The rest of the group shouted, “Happy birthday!” before sucking down the tasty shot.

  “Sorry, I’m late.” The voice behind me was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  “Ginger!” Holly shouted and moved passed me to greet her. Ginger was our next-door neighbor when Holly and I first moved to San Francisco about six years ago. She’d trap us in the hallway with mindless gossip for what seemed like hours. Probably the reason I hadn’t kept in touch.

  “Hap
py birthday, Marin,” Ginger said, handing me a silver gift bag stuffed with red tissue paper.

  “Ginger, what are you doing here? We haven’t seen you in—”

  “Ages, I know. I ran into Holly at lunch yesterday, and she told me about this little birthday bash, and I said ‘I have to go to this thing and see my girl, Marin.’” Ginger crinkled her nose and pinched my shoulder.

  “Great!” I stretched my smile out as far as it could go and I still couldn’t catch up to hers. Her stare became impatient and she batted her lashes a few times.

  “Well, open your gift, birthday girl.”

  “Oh.” I broke from the trance of her bubbliness and investigated the gift bag. I pushed the tissue aside and pulled out Nars mascara and duo eye shadow pallet in Charade, Bobbi Brown lipstick in Ballerina Shimmer, and a beautiful plum Laura Mercier nail polish called Temptation. It was about a hundred dollars worth of makeup.

  “This is really generous, Ginger. You didn’t have to get me anything, especially all this,” I gave her a grateful smile followed by a hug.

  “You’re an incredible girl and you deserve to have incredible makeup. It’s nothing, really.”

  It may really have been nothing. Ginger started at the cosmetics counter at Neiman Marcus and later became a buyer for the department. My guess, she was still a buyer with the eye of a makeup artist. Her color choices were spot on. Then again, Ginger and I had similar coloring and features, so maybe it wasn’t a stretch. Still, I couldn’t wait to try the Ballerina Shimmer.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I told her.

  As we slid into the lounge, I stared at Ginger. She’d made a few changes since I’d last seen her. Her hair had been lightened from black to golden brown, and her cup size was increased by about two and disproportioned to her tiny Korean frame.

  “I love your watch,” she said and pulled my wrist toward her to examine the clock. I couldn’t admit it on my birthday, but it was a nice watch. Still, I would’ve much rather been showing off an engagement ring.

  “Thanks, it’s a birthday gift from my boyfriend.” Then, I glanced down and saw it. The one thing I wanted to avoid from everyone—a brilliant cut diamond ring. An engagement ring.

  “Are you getting married?” I asked. Her big smile grew larger and she threw her hands up in a dramatic dance sorta way.

  “Yes! Isn’t it incredible!”

  I had no choice but to mirror her enthusiasm. “That’s great news!” Even though it really wasn’t.

  “Thanks! You know what? You should totally come. Yes, I have to have you at the wedding.” She squeezed my hands and bounced them in my lap.

  “When is it?”

  “May 15th. Five, fifteen!” She whipped out her phone and began texting something. “Let me get your address and I’ll send you an invitation.”

  I began reciting my address when Rachel swooped in. “Not so fast,” she said. “You’re address is changing soon. Didn’t you tell her the good news?”

  Word travels fast. Ginger looked at me seriously for an explanation.

  I nodded slowly and was almost embarrassed about what I had to confess. “My boyfriend and I are getting a place together.”

  “That’s incredible,” Ginger said with what seemed like the slightest twinge of pity. I continued to nod. Ginger had a diamond ring and I was getting a joint lease . . . incredible. As a matter of fact, I was feeling incredulous. Was it really so unthinkable to expect an engagement ring by now? I knew we both wanted to take it slow, but I was done taking it slow. I wanted to speed this ship up!

  “I’m gonna get a cocktail. You want one? What do you want?” Ginger asked.

  “Whatever goes down easy and clouds my judgment,” I said.

  “Like Telly’s date over there,” Rachel commented, gesturing to the bar where Telly was flirting dangerously with the scruffy bartender.

  “Rachel.” Ginger gave her a friendly swat on her shoulder. “I don’t remember you being so naughty.”

  “I’m married now, which means I rarely get to do and say very bad things.”

  “Rachel!” Holly reprimanded.

  “I’m kidding.” Rachel smirked.

  “No, I like it. You’re like a cheeky little kitten.” Ginger clawed her hands in the air as she stood and made a purring sound before she started giggling. No doubt at her own ridiculousness. “You girls are fun!”

  Rachel and Ginger scooted to the bar, leaving me with Corrine and Holly.

  “You okay?” Holly asked.

  “I’m great, why?”

  “The whole no-engagement thing’s still fresh. I’m sure Ginger’s wedding stings a little.”

  “I’m fine.” An insincere smile spread across my face. I wasn’t fine and Holly knew it. I just had to get through the night.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  The second Holly walked away she pulled her phone from her back pocket and began texting.

  I turned to Corrine who was sipping a Mojito. “Have you noticed Holly on her phone a lot at work?”

  “No more than usual. Does she text a lot in the evening?” Corrine asked.

  “Seems like it.” I watched Holly walk out the front door and put her phone to her ear. “Who’s she talking to?”

  Corrine leaned in as if to tell me a secret. “I think she’s talking to Noom again.”

  “No!” I gasped. Corrine nodded slowly. She seemed convinced.

  Noom was a guy that Holly met during her first expedition to Thailand. The two fell in love over drain mats and roof soil. Since then she’d made several shorter trips to Southeast Asia and every time they’d argued about her leaving and him not wanting to come to the states.

  “I don’t know what she sees in him,” I said. “He’s too short for her, he won’t even come to the states to see her, and he barely speaks English. I don’t even know how they communicate.”

  “Can’t help who you love,” Corrine said with a shrug, and I mentally shrugged it off too. “She talks about you a lot.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “She said you’ve had a rough couple of days, but didn’t say why.”

  I sighed. “It’s nothing. I was just expecting to get engaged the other night.”

  Corrine raised her brows and nodded. It seemed to scream of judgment.

  “What?” I asked.

  She hesitated for a moment. “I probably shouldn’t say this to a marriage counselor, but I don’t understand why women are in such a hurry to get married.”

  “You do know it’s my thirty-third birthday, right?”

  She sneered. “Yes, and you’re a young woman. How long have you been with your boyfriend?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “Think about it, do you really want to be stuck with someone or something you’ve only known for two years?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Lots of couples got engaged after two years. Many of my clients were engaged well before two years. Which, I suppose, isn’t the greatest argument since I don’t work with happy, healthy couples.

  “Okay, when I was in high school,” she started. “I became obsessed with David Bowie.”

  “David Bowie?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I was kinda a lone wolf on that one since I was born about ten years too late.”

  “Right . . .”

  “I really wanted to get a tattoo of his face on my lower back, like on the Aladdin Sane album cover. I begged my mom for it, and of course, she said no. After a couple of years, my obsession subsided, and I thank my mother for not allowing me to get that ridiculous tattoo. I love David Bowie, but I don’t want his face plastered near my ass. You know what I’m saying?”

  I knew what she was saying, but I couldn’t believe she was comparing my situation to a story about an almost-David-Bowie-tattoo.

  “What I mean is, if you and your boyfriend are happy with the way things are, then why change? As you know—very well I might add—there are a lot of married people who don’t have a tenth
of the happiness that you and your boyfriend share. Don’t feel disappointed, just be grateful that you found him.”

  I nodded. “You’re right.” And she was. I should’ve just appreciated the fact that he even took me back after everything I’d put him through eighteen months earlier. He’d made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Why couldn’t that be enough?

  Ginger returned with a Long Island iced tea and I guzzled it like lemonade on a hot summer day.

  “Slow down, sister,” Telly said, taking the glass from me, and shooting Holly a knowing glance. I looked around at my group of friends and took stock of my life. I had a great job, a wonderful boyfriend, amazing friends, and fabulous new makeup, but still, something was missing and I had a hard time admitting it. Even admitting it to myself. I was, for the most part, a free woman and I celebrated that freedom with a few more Long Island iced teas.

  By the end of the night I was pretty hammered.

  “Who’s taking Marin home?” Telly asked.

  “Holly!” I shouted and threw my arms in the air. They landed over her shoulders and I nuzzled into her. “Let’s have a slumber party like the old days.”

  “I guess I will,” Holly said and walked me over to a cab.

  “Telly!” I called out. “Let me know if that bartender goes down easy.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively.

  “Okay, we’re going,” Holly said and ushered me into the cab.

  When we got back to my place, Holly helped me out of my dress and into bed.

  “Whew! I haven’t been this drunk in a long time,” I said as Holly turned me on my side and pointed at the small trash bin to use in case I got sick. “You’re my best friend. You know that, right?” I was feeling sentimental, another symptom of too much alcohol.

  “I know,” she said softly and smiled.

  “Holly, if you were a lesbian, would you marry me?” I asked, slurring my words through my lazy lips.

  “Of course, you’d be the love of my life.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever get married?” I closed my eyes and listened.

  “I dunno. If it happens, it happens. I’ll probably never have children so I’m not in a rush.” Her comments were sobering. While growing up, Holly never talked much about having a family. She was a free spirit, but her ability to nurture was so strong, I believed one day she’d want a baby of her own, a mini environmental warrior to help heal the world.