Chapter One:
I feel stuck.
In the most general sense, that is.
I guess I literally feel stuck now too.
Looking down at my Christian Siriano work shoes that are now covered in wet cement, I mourn the loss and quickly check my watch.
I’ll be late for sure now.
The construction workers around me were hurling obscenities and cursing at me for being too oblivious this morning to notice that I had walked straight into the laying of a new sidewalk.
Nice, Beth.
My size nine and a half’s would forever be imprinted into the fine streets of New York City and I could only blame myself.
My phone buzzed for the ninth time in fifteen minutes, reminding me of the very reason I found myself not only figuratively but literally stuck this morning. I don’t bother checking the text message, I know who it is.
My fiancé.
Wondering if I had made it to work, again. I told him I’d let him know when I made it, as I do every day, and yet he insists on asking me every two minutes. He and I both know that it takes twenty minutes to walk from our apartment to the law firm I’m interning at.
I feel stuck.
It’s not because I don’t love him—of course I do. If I didn’t, I could easily let him know that he was controlling and slowly but surely suffocating me. I feel more like I’m in a relationship with my brother (ew) than in a passionate love affair with my ‘one and only.’ Which totally sucks. Especially because if I were to say any of this to his face I would completely crush him. Mattie’s my best friend, I don’t want to hurt him. We’ve been glued at the hip since our freshman year of college and now, three years later, it’s not something I could just casually bring up.
I thought I was getting an out when my dad told me about the internship. He had called in a favor from an old college buddy who owned a law firm. His partner, who I later learned was his wife, was lacking a personal assistant. That’s where I come in. I’m not studying law but I leapt at the chance to get out of Idaho for a while. So, I packed up my things and moved to the Big Apple for a year. Then, much to my shock, my boyfriend became my fiancé and decided to make the move with me. I figured we’d go our separate ways after graduation but clearly Mattie has other plans for our future.
Was I crazy to say yes to his proposal? In hindsight, the answer is abso-freaking-lutely. It’s only made matters worse in the long run. But hear me out, we were at my going away party. In front of both our families and all of our friends. Not to mention a few of my professors. I couldn’t find it in me to reject him in front of everyone. Consequently, I said yes to something we hadn’t even talked about.
But you should’ve seen his face! He was so happy. And I do want him to be happy. Because I love him.
Platonically.
Yikes.
Our relationship is easy and I can’t imagine my life without him. He’s the person I go to when I’m upset or when I just need someone to talk to. He understands me and he supports me, well… he used to. Ever since he proposed it’s like he has adapted this role of an overprotective parent, forcing me to take on the weird character of a rebellious teenager. I can’t go out to a work dinner without him constantly keeping tabs on me. The other day, I went to pick up some groceries and he called me because I took a different route home. How did he know? He was tracking me on Find My Friends.
If this is how our engagement is, I don’t even want to think about how our marriage will be.
I know, I know. This is bad. Believe me, I’ll be the first to admit that prolonging this is only hurting the both of us. Every time I try to bring it up, I just get so panicky. My face gets hot and my breathing goes all haywire. I can’t think straight. So, until I can get a handle on that, I will be checking in with and sending updates every ten minutes to my fiancé.
Please don’t misunderstand me. Mattie isn’t a bad guy. He’s great, really. He’s the kind of guy your parents love, maybe even more than you. He’s the kind of guy your friends want to hang out with. He loves dogs and kids and Disneyland. He’s sweet, charming, and so caring. I should be over the moon that he’s in love with me. I’m incredibly lucky to have such a stable guy in my life.
But then again, maybe that’s why I feel so stuck. Maybe I’m crazy enough to not want stability. Maybe I want to have some passion and fire in my relationship. Maybe I want to actually have to fight for something rather than it just be given to me on a silver platter. But then again, it makes me nauseous when Mattie and I fight or disagree. I’d rather just roll over and give him whatever he wants than see him upset or unhappy. It’s just that I’ve played it safe for the majority of my life. Now, I’m an engaged twenty-four year old intern with a great future mapped out in front of me. I had become the exact person I had always wanted to be and it made me sick to my stomach.
Carefully, I step to the right and eventually make it out of the gloppy cement. As suspected, my shoes are completely ruined. The tops of my feet are also covered in the grey mess.
Gross, gross, gross. How the heck am I supposed to remedy this situation? I have zero time to go back home and change. I have absolutely no funds to hail a cab in either direction.
There’s only one option.
“Barefoot it is.” I say to no one in particular. I quickly express my apologies to the workers and bend over to untie the cords of my shoes. To top it all off, the cement was now under my fingernails. “Well, at least the streets of New York are super clean.” Bitterness nips at my tone. I carry on with my walk to work and my thoughts travel back to my impending engagement. Everyone experiences cold feet, Beth. That’s all this is. My excuses are almost laughable, I know. But, you do what you gotta do sometimes, man.
The foggy Tuesday morning did not mesh well with the drying cement on my feet and fingertips. My cheeks warm at the thought of all these New Yorkers staring at me; the crazy lady, mom walking, with no shoes on. Even though, it’s more likely they’re not giving me the time of day (too wrapped up in their own thoughts of unhappiness), I still reach up and attempt to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and only succeed in getting fetching cement streaked through it.
“Wow, she’s truly a hot mess today.” A man gives me an odd look. Way to go, Bethany. Why not add insult to injury. Yes, sometimes I talk about myself in the third person but really, who doesn’t these days?
With each step, I hate the day even more. Honestly, everyone gives Monday’s a bad rep, but no. Tuesday’s are the real devil. They sneak up on you and make you think the worst is over because, ‘Oh yay, Monday is over.’ But then, just when you’ve let your guard down, they strike with their second-day-of-the-week thunder. Poor Monday’s don’t even see it coming and they end up getting all the hate. How is that fair, huh?
I continued to curse Tuesday’s until I arrived at my destination. I straighten my slacks and try to smooth my hair down, (thankfully the cement on my fingers had dried and caked into all sorts of creases. So cute.) Pulling open the large glass door, I enter the lobby of the firm. It’s quite a gigantic building. It needs an elevator if that tells you anything. I work on the 42nd floor and it takes at least a full two minutes to get all the way up.
I smile at Miriam, the building receptionist and one of my lunch buddies, she smiles in return and I quickly walk by her before she can question my current appearance. Miriam Smart is a fifty year old divorcee who got a job to spite her ex-husband because he had claimed she couldn’t pull her own weight. She has two kids, a cat, and an online dating account. She’s been on exactly three dates in the week that I’ve known her. Miriam tells me very detailed accounts of each one. Not that I mind; it’s a nice change from my mundane relationship.
I pull my phone from my pants pocket to let Mattie know that I had made it in. Looking up briefly, I can see the elevator open and I pick up my speed so I don’t miss it. In my haste, I run into a wall.
No, not a wall. A man.
Ew, did I really just have that experience? What cliché world have I stepped into today? I don’t have time to figure it out as I feel the burning hot liquid seep into my shirt and sear my skin.
“Holy mother of OW! Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot.” I drop my phone and shoes to use both hands to pull my shirt away from my chest in an attempt to avoid third degree burns. The wetness makes it stick to me anyway. Shoot dang. This was a cute shirt!
“Perfect. Cherry on top!” He curses and mutters to himself. I also don’t have time to take in much of the man’s appearance (an actual giant, chocolate brown eyes, blue suit, green tie) before he starts to… reprimand me? “Try watching where you’re going next time, why don’t you?!” His voice matches the deepness of his eyes and his baritone, while pleasing to the ear, is not so pleasing to my pride. My eyebrows are probably to my hairline.
“Um, I was watching where I was going. You were just in my way.” The coffee seemed to have just been brewed and was still steaming as it soaked into my clothing. I watch the man shake his hands off, trying to rid the hot liquid from himself as well. He rolls his eyes once he sees the big stain on his tie.
“Everyone knows you let the person inside the elevator get out before you rush in like a madwoman. It’s common courtesy.” His tone is clipped and he doesn’t even look at me when he speaks. He just grips the base of the knot and pulls the silk from his neck.
“What happened to ladies first?” I bend over to pick up my shoes and then move to the side of the elevator to let others enter. I wasn’t about to be completely rude and block the entrance, unlike some. And he thinks I’m uncourteous. Ridiculous. A few people who were behind me are now trying to get by the beast of a man standing in the way. “I guess chivalry really is dead.”
Raising my eyebrows, I nod my head towards the woman attempting to squeeze between him and the metal wall of the elevator. He scoffs but moves anyway. I follow the woman and walk to get into the elevator. His voice stops me before I get very far. Something tells me that he always has to have the last word.
“Sweetheart, if you wanted chivalry you should’ve stuck with your night job.” Completely offended, my mouth drops open. I whirl around, ready to physically fight someone. “Have any singles left?”He continues.
Oh, if looks could kill. Is he serious right now? I step backwards into the elevator and push the 42nd button.
“Why?” I huff and match his glare as I feel the anger rise within me. Out of all people, why is it this man choosing me to pick on? Well, two can play at this game, Mr. Man! Making a quick decision, I stoop to his level. “Do you need them for extra padding?” I hear the woman behind me snort as the doors start to close. The man looks as though he was about to say something else but the elevator shuts completely before he could. Air fills my lungs as I take some calming deep breaths. What on earth was that all about? I rest my head on the cool metal surface and shut my eyes momentarily.
He really ruffled some feathers and now I have less than two minutes to regain a semblance of composure. My heart is racing and I feel almost buzzed. Confrontation of any kind usually makes me want to dig myself into a hole. He made me so angry though. What did I do to deserve an attitude like that?
Must be the Tuesday. I think to myself as the elevator doors open. I step out quickly and see my work friend, Angela, stepping out of the women’s bathroom. When she sees me her eyes grow wide.
“Whoa, pumpkin. What happened to you?” Angie said and grimaced, giving me the up and down. I’m reminded that I’m still covered in caked cement; and now I have a giant coffee stain on my white shirt. I groan in response to her question and make a beeline for my desk. “Who spit in your coffee this morning?” She continued and waddled down the hall to her own office.
“Don’t even talk to me about coffee right now.” I yell to her. She waves her hand but doesn’t turn around.
I sit down at my desk and check my watch again. Thirteen fetching minutes late. A new record since starting this job. I quickly check in and decide that I should go talk to my boss and explain why I was so late today. I gently lay my shoes to rest in the trashcan under my desk and make a mental note to get a new pair as soon as I can afford it.
Walking the few feet to Allison’s office, I knock on the frosted glass door. I hear a soft response to enter and push the door open. The instant Allison sees me she chuckles.
“Oh dear.” She says and tries to cover her laugh with a cough. She clears her throat. “What on earth happened to you, Bethany?” Some relief washes over me. Thank goodness she’s not mad. All is well. I’m not getting fired today.
Allison Foster has been name partner at the law firm for fourteen years now. Like I mentioned before, Allison and her husband, Greyson Foster, built the company from the ground up. They had started out as business partners but then one thing led to another and they quickly realized that there was more to their relationship than just business. They got married and opened the firm together. Foster, Foster, and Johnson. Johnson was the third name partner; a nice older man who was about to retire.
Allison was a kind woman who often took her employees under her wing for a time. She believes that the key to a good business is a good relationship with everyone involved. That included interns, aka me.
“It’s a long story.” I explain and plop myself into one of the comfy office chairs. “It involves construction workers and an insufferable man with a cup of coffee.” Allison looks at me with sympathetic eyes.
“Well,” She starts with a motherly tone. “That is quite a deadly combination.” I nod my head and look down at my bare feet, grimacing at the chipped nail polish. Making a mental note for some TLC, I look up again at Allison’s voice. “Would this insufferable man happen to be the same man who put that pretty ring on your finger?” She says with an excited smile. I wince, making another mental note to text Mattie when I’m back at my desk.
“No.” I respond slowly, absentmindedly fiddling with the silver on my finger. Allison frowns.
“Oh,” She hums. “Tell me about this new man then.” I puff my cheeks out and exhale sharply.
“There was a man in the elevator. He was leaving as I was coming in and we bumped into each other. He spilled his coffee all over me and then had the audacity to make some rude comments.” I’m talking with my hands again. Mattie says it’s too boisterous but this story calls for some boisterousness. “He didn’t even apologize! I mean, I probably have third degree burns and not just from his insults.” Allison snorts. “How can one man be so fricken ill-mannered? Like, who kicked his puppy? Right?” I nod my head as if to agree with myself. “This guy went from zero to sixty in less than a second.” I notice Allison is now leaning back against her desk with a small smirk on her face and a mischievous look in her eyes. If there’s one thing I know about Allison Foster, it’s that she likes to meddle. Nevertheless, I continue. “He was all, ‘Watch where you’re going.’” I lower my voice to imitate a man. “And, ‘You’re a madwoman.’ Please, if I’m a madwoman then he’s a barbarian. Oh! And we can’t forget, ‘Sweetheart, you got any singles left?’” I cough a little on the last one, my vocal chords straining. Allison uses this to cut in.
“Was this man, by chance, wearing a green tie?” She asks and I’m momentarily speechless. Doesn’t last for long though.
“Uh, yeah, actually.” Allison shook her head and crossed her arms. “How did you know that?”
“I thought he sounded familiar.” She began. “Please excuse my son’s behavior. He’s not very civilized these days.” You know when people describe being on a rollercoaster and their stomach’s drop as they rush down the tracks at an almost ninety degree angle?
That’s what this feels like. Except without the enjoyment.
I try to recall everything I had just said about the man and I try not to wail. Words like barbarian and ill-mannered flicker across my memory. Holy goodness, if I’m not fired for this I’m quitting.
“No,” I think I’m in denial. She’s gotta be pulling my leg. “He can’t be your son because that would mean that I was just badmouthing your kid to your face.” I feel sick. Allison laughs and I hold my breath.
“I badmouth Jackson on a daily basis!” I’m being punked for sure. No way is this situation turning out in my favor. I had basically signed, sealed, and delivered my letter of resignation and the woman in front of me was laughing. I can feel my shoulders start to relax a little but I’m still ready to bolt if need be.
“I don’t understand.” I can’t wrap my head around this. Allison looks at me sympathetically.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay! You’re in no trouble.” My boss walks around the wooden block that is her desk to sit behind it. “Jackson is my son and he is quite the handful. Has been since the day he was born.” She smiles fondly, which only makes me feel guiltier. I hadn’t meant to go off the way I did. That man just really got under my skin. Must be the Tuesday. “He was in today to demand his father and I make him a name partner to take Mr. Johnson’s place. You can imagine what our response was what with his unfortunate encounter with you. Again, I apologize for his behavior and for what he said to you.”
All I can do is stare at her.
So, he was upset because Mommy and Daddy told him no? And he decided to take it out on the first innocent person he encountered.
What a standup guy.
I finally speak, remembering that while Allison is practically Mother Theresa, she’s still my boss. “No harm done, really.” I was late in today and I need to take responsibility for that. “Anyway, regardless of the reasoning, I was late today and I just wanted to apologize for my tardiness.”
“Nonsense, dear.” I watch Allison stand from her desk and walk over to a large armoire in the corner of her office. She pulls out a white dress shirt and a pair of red heels. She speaks as she hands me the items. “Here, take these. Go get yourself cleaned up and then start on your tasks for the day.” I look down at the items and immediately try and give them back to her.
“Oh no, I couldn’t.” She raises her eyebrow at me. “I mean, yes ma’am, thank you, ma’am.” I grin at her with entirely too much teeth and she chuckles.
“Good. Now off you go.” I make my way out of Allison’s office, saying ‘thank you’ again, and head towards the women’s bathroom.
After some unladylike maneuvering, I was able to get myself cleaned up and looking relatively human as opposed to a muddied swamp monster.
Chapter Two:
On the walk back to my desk, I almost break an ankle. The shoes were on the small side and I don’t generally wear shoes that make me taller.
Along the way, I’m ambushed by Angie, who’s holding out a cup of coffee to me.
“Okay, you can talk to me about coffee now.” I say and gratefully take the cup my friend was handing me. “Sorry about earlier.” Angie waves me off and steps closer.
Angela Dixon was a modern-day Marilyn Monroe. Aka a blue eyed, beautiful, blonde bombshell. She played volleyball in high school and throughout her college career. When she met her now husband, Rick, they quickly fell in love and tied the knot soon after. They’re currently expecting their first child; a boy. Angie was a beauty queen, a genius, and a barefoot contessa all rolled into one. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d probably hate her.
Our friendship formed fast when I helped Angie keep her hair back during an unfortunate bout of morning sickness. She’d thanked me by inviting me over for dinner that night. Mattie and I joined the couple for a night of delicious food and side splitting laughter. Rick was a chef who owned his own restaurant and did comedy on the side. Angie told me that she fell in love with him because he made her laugh but stayed with him because of his food.
“I heard you had a run in with the Jackson Foster. Spill. Now.” Angie said excitedly. She seemed to have a real flair for the gossip. Especially when it came to people who were in the public eye. Last week she spent forty-five minutes talking about Anna Ferris and Chris Pratt’s split. As a divorce attorney, she was hoping they’d come to Foster, Foster, and Johnson for her services. (They didn’t.)
“How could you possibly know about that already? It only happened thirty minutes ago.”
“Miriam.” Angie says as if it should be obvious. Yikes, what drama was Miriam spouting to everyone?
“She said that you got into a fight because he called you a hoe and then you junk punched him and made him cry.” I snort at the retelling. “Sweetie pie, tell me everything!” Angie pleaded again. She was on the verge of invading some serious personal space, her ocean eyes wide with questions.
I sigh and give in to her request, quickly telling her a play by play of what actually happened with my boss’s son. When I was finished, Angie crossed her arms and rested them on her pregnant belly.
“That’s so boring compared to what Miriam told me.” Without another word on the matter, Angie turned towards her own desk and waved goodbye. “See you and Miriam for lunch?” She questioned but didn’t require an answer.
Somehow, Angie was both incredibly intrusive and masterly aloof at the same time. I really don’t mind though. It’s nice to have a friend who continues to be my friend after work hours.
Deciding it was about time I got to work, I quickly go and sit and my desk. After booting up my computer, I complete the few tasks I have scheduled for the morning. I send out a few emails and make a couple of appointments. Being a secretary wasn’t much work and I spend most of my days answering phone calls and running errands for Allison.
By noon I’m essentially done for the day. My lunch break doesn’t start for a while so to fill the time, I pull out the book I’ve been reading. After a few chapters, I feel the burn of hunger coming on. I bookmark my spot and check the time. I still have a couple minutes left so I decide to let my curiosity get the better of me.
I shoot a quick message to Angie and Miriam asking if we’re meeting at our usual place for lunch before I open up a web browser. I look over my shoulder while I wait for the page to load.
Seeing that the coast is clear, I type his name into the search bar.
Jackson Foster
The browser is flooded with results. Snap-a-doo, I’m a kid in a candy store. I click on each link greedily. A few mention recent scandals Jackson was a part of. Others talk about current ‘flames.’ I roll my eyes at those ones. Why do women like this guy? He’s about as charismatic as a shark. A few comment on his parent’s company and his desire to join as name partner.
My eyes dart across the screen and I spot a particularly eye catching article. It’s from a few years ago in the online version of People Magazine.
| “We’re all familiar with the hit reality TV show, “The Bachelor.” We all love to have watch parties and bet on which girls will receive a rose. We trash talk the ones we don’t like and cheer on the ones we do. “As it turns out, no girl is receiving a rose from Jackson Foster this season. Foster has reportedly denied an offer from the show! What was the offer? You guessed it! What other offer is there, really? “Foster was asked to become this season’s new bachelor. And he actually had the audacity to say no! “How does it feel to break so many hearts at once, Jackson? “A close friend of Foster claims that he had a distaste for the show ever since an old girlfriend dumped him to audition for it. She later went on to win the ring in 2013. Our source states that Foster never got over it. “We all understand heartbreak, but ouch! Getting ditched for a one off chance to get married? That’s gotta hurt! “Regardless of your unpopular decisions, Jackson, we still love you!” |
“Bachelor Denied!” It reads. “No roses for Jackson Foster.” Is the tagline.
A sharp noise brings my nose out of the computer. Miriam had replied to my message. Three times over. Oops. She was wondering if I was still coming. She also had confirmed my question of where we we’re meeting. Closing out the web page, I grab my purse and feel it buzzing.
My phone. Oh crap! Mattie. I curse myself for forgetting about my fiancé and shove my hand into my purse to pull out my vibrating phone. It’s him. I answer it hastily.
“You’d better be in a ditch somewhere!” He exclaims and I can almost see him pushing his fingers through his thick hair. Something he did when he chastises me. I push the button to call the elevator and try to keep my voice down.
“Hey, what if I actually was in a ditch? I’d be dead and you’d be yelling at the police officer who called to tell you the devastating news.” I try to joke with him but it only fuels the fire more.
Ever since I met him, Matthew Dempsey had been a dream come true. He’d swept me off my feet when I was eighteen and we’d been best friends from then on.
“That’s exactly my point, Bee! You could’ve been seriously hurt and I wouldn’t have known how to help you.” At his one, I can tell now isn’t the time to be joking around. Guilt swarms around my heart and I concede. I’ve never had much fight when it comes to Mattie.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I pick at my fingernails and notice they’re having the same problem as my toes. The elevator still isn’t here yet. “I got distracted and completely forgot to text you back.” I admit to him. On the spot, I decide to leave out the fact that it was a certain brown eyed man at fault for this. I can’t pinpoint why I didn’t want to share this information, however. The elevator arrives and I step into it. Definitely watching where I’m going. Mattie sighs.
“Bee, you know I’m just worried about you.” I hate this part. “New York isn’t—“
“—Like Idaho. I know.” I finish for him. Mattie has repeated this statement at least a hundred times since making the move. When I was offered the internship it was, ‘Bee, this job isn’t like the bakery.’ When I wanted to get a dog it was, “Bethany, owning a dog isn’t like owning a hamster.’ When I wanted to buy a car it was, ‘Buying a car isn’t like buying a bicycle.’
Our relationship wasn’t a bad one. It just wasn’t the dynamic that I wanted anymore. I know the only way to fix it is to talk about it, but the prospect of hurting him far outweighs the longing I have for something more. I’m happy enough and that’s all that matters for now.
Mattie sighs again.
“Just don’t do that again, okay?” His voice is softer this time and I know he’s forgiven me. Our little spats never lasted long and with each one we fell more into our respective roles. “I worry too much, Bee. You’re starting to give me grey hairs.” I almost laugh at the irony. Yikes. My dad said those very words to me before I moved. Oh, Mattie. Do you really not hear it?
“I know, Mattie. I’ll do better. Promise.” Finally, I reach ground level and I head out of the building. It was a quick walk to the small café across the street and would really only take me a few minutes. Even so, I’d like to have those minutes to myself. “I gotta go, I’m meeting Angie and Miriam for lunch.
“Okay, text me when you get back to the office.” Stopped at the cross walk, I close my eyes and lift my head to the sky.
“Will do.” I respond quietly.
“I love you, Bee.” My fiancé said. I believe him whole heartedly. He does love me and I’ve never questioned that. Recently, however, I’ve started to wonder if his love for me had shifted at in the way mine had for him.
In my defense, I only hesitate for a second. “Yeah. Love you too.” I tap the red button on my touch screen phone to end the call. “Holy Hannah, what am I doing?” I take a deep breath, pressing the palms of my hands into my eyes. I look out into the busy street to figure out the best route to take as to not get hit by a taxi. I get to the café quickly and spot my friends sitting in a booth towards the back.
“There she is!” Angie exclaimed when I got close enough. Seeing Miriam with an easy smile and Angie shoving half a muffin in her mouth made me loosen up a little. I’m grateful to have made such fast friends here. Something tells me that these are the kinds of friendships that last.
“Sorry I’m late guys,” I apologize. “I got a little distracted.” Miriam pushed a plate with a turkey sandwich and some salt and vinegar chips towards me as I settled in.
“No worries. We ordered for you.” The older woman smiled and sipped on her soda.
My mouth started to water. “Oh, you’re an angel.” I pick up the sandwich and shove a bite in my mouth.
“What made you late, honey bee?” Uh oh, she’s calling me out. “I passed you on my way out and it didn’t look like you were involved with work.” Angie had a mischievous smile on her face, her eyes dancing with the prospect of some hot gossip.
I chew my food very slowly.
If I was going to admit to what I’d been doing, I’m gonna make the girl suffer a little first.
“So,” I pause to sip my drink. “I might’ve googled Jackson Foster.” I say grudgingly. Angie snickered and clapped while Miriam squealed. “Holy Hannah, you two. I only googled the man!”
“And?” Miriam inquired. “What did you find out?”
“Okay, so apparently he was asked to be on The Bachelor and he said no!” I can admit that my obsession with the show was borderline unhealthy. I had always joked with Mattie that I’d be a contestant one day. He never thought that was funny.
“Well, yeah!” Angie scoffed. “That’s old news. He was snubbed by his girlfriend who went on the show and married the guy.”
“Allegedly.” Miriam cut in.
“Miriam, it was in all the magazines and he hasn’t made a statement about any of it so of course it’s true.” Angie was talking around her muffin and yet she still managed to look like she was ready for some sort of maternity photoshoot which completely baffles me.
“Do you believe everything you read in magazines, Blondie?” The two ladies bicker often but not out of dislike for each other; more for the sport of it.
“Of course not, just the headlines.” Angie’s being sarcastic, but her statement still rings true.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to scarf down as much food as I can while they squabble. Once the attention is back on me, I don’t think I’ll be able to get much eating done. Normally, I like to fly under the radar, but thanks to my sweet get together I had this morning, I don’t think my invisibility will kick in for quite a while now.
I let my thoughts travel to Jackson Foster for a brief moment. Guilt is starting to set in for what I’d said to him—about him as well. I hadn’t read anything that appalling about his character. He was probably just having a bad day. Considering his parents rejected his request, I think that’s the case.
“—and then he took me dancing.” Miriam’s voice cut into my thought process.
I swallow down the last bits of my sandwich. “Wait, what?”
“Miriam is telling us about her saucy date! Pay attention, gum drop.”
“I was just talking about Graham, my date last night. He took me out to dinner and then we went dancing. In a gazebo, of all places!” Her hearty chuckle reminds me of my mother’s laugh. There was a time when it would’ve taken me a few minutes to recover from the flood of memories but these days I’m doing a lot better. I listen to Miriam (mostly) attentively and push the thoughts of my mom aside for now.
My mom died when I was twelve years old. Cancer took her too quickly and I miss her every day. It’s brought me closer to my dad, sure, but there are just some things that you need your mom for. Unfortunately, I’ve had to face a few of those things on my own.
While Miriam talks about gazebos and moonlight kisses, envy nips at me. What would it be like to enjoy the relationship you’re in? This thought plagues me for the rest of my work day and before I know it I’m headed home; thinking of a certain brown eyed man here and there.
Chapter Three:
I slam the door to my two bedroom apartment. The poorly hung picture frames rattle on the wall. “Mattie, I’m home!” I announce to an empty living room. I hear a bark and then nails taping on the tile. My one year old toy poodle, Phil, runs into the room to greet me. She jumps at my legs and I plop myself on the floor to give her all the loves. “Hi, sweet puppy!” My voice takes on a high pitched thrill as I scratch her ears and she licks my face. “Were you a good girl for Mattie today?”
“No.” Mattie’s dry response comes from the kitchen. “But then again she never is.” He walks into the living room, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He’s wearing the apron he bought last week. ‘Kiss the Cook’ is written in big red letters. He’d insisted that he needed it, along with the matching chef’s hat. Thankfully, the hat is not currently on his head.
I ignore his response and stand up to greet my fiancé. Phil seems to huff in annoyance at the disruption. Drama queen. Mattie meets me in the middle and pecks my lips. I disregard the lack of… well anything. “Did you make dinner?” Usually, Tuesday’s are my day for dinner. Dinner that I regularly burn just to spite the day. Mattie just smiles and answers with his own question.
He tilts his head and assesses my attire. “Why are you wearing different clothes?” I exhale a weak laugh and make a getaway to the kitchen.
“It’s a long story.” I toss over my shoulder. A long story that I don’t necessarily want to relive again. Or tell Mattie about for that matter. “Why did you make food? Tuesday’s are my day.” I ask again when I see the pasta on the stove. I also spot a fruit salad that I make a beeline for. It wasn’t like Mattie to stray from our normal routine. Something was up. I peak into the oven, holding the bowl of fruit in the crook of my elbow, two big pieces of chicken are inside looking delectable; if I do say so myself. Okay, I’ll stop complaining. I eat a slice of pineapple.
Mattie comes over to me and places his hands on my hips. “I know, but I have a bit of a surprise for you.” Oh, I see. He’s buttering me up with food. He glances at the fruit bowl that I’m holding like a newborn baby as if it’s in his way. Which it is. But… fruit. He takes the bowl from my hands, (don’t worry, I got some grapes) and places it back where it originally was and then stands in front of me again.
He puts his hands on my hips again and smiles his, I’m-going-to-tell-you-something-that-you’re-not-going-to-like-but-in-the-end-you’ll-cave-because-look-at-my-dimples smile. This is the same smile he flashed at me when he shared his master plan of moving to New York with me.
I brace myself for impact.
“I bought us plane tickets to go home in a few months!” Houston we have a problem! Mayday, mayday, mayday! He looks at me expectantly with his aforementioned smile. All I can do is blink at him as the panic starts to set in.
We’re basically broke right now. An apartment in New York that lets you have pets AND doesn’t require you to coexist with cockroaches doesn’t come cheap. Plus the fact that there are at least three unpaid bills sitting in the living room gathering dust as we speak is not necessarily comforting.
“Wow, Mattie.” The lack of enthusiasm isn’t hard to miss but at least I try and smile back at him. Granted it’s my, I’m-literally-going-to-kill-you-I-could-not-be-more-pissed-but-I’m-not-gonna-say-anything-because-look-at-your-dimples smile. “Uh—wow, that’s um—” I clear my throat and once again my mind goes to our lack of funds. What am I supposed to say to that? I settle on concern. “With what money?” He shrugs as the oven beeps. Shrugs! Mattie steps away to check the chicken.
I take these few seconds to stress eat the rest of my grapes.
“I had some money left over after buying your ring and I thought, what better way to spend it then on a trip home? Awesome, right?” He explains. Oh yeah, what a great idea to spend a thousand plus on an unnecessary vacation. I can’t even go on a vacation right now! Also, thanks a bunch for telling be about some spare money that’s supposedly ‘our money now, Bee.’
“Mattie,” I start hesitantly. “Here’s the thing.” He’s not even looking at me. Too busy pulling the chicken out. Let it burn! “We just got here, right?” I try to reason with him and pray to the good Lord that he got trip insurance. “We’re still laying down our roots and stuff. I don’t know if it’s the best idea to go so soon.” I’m trying to be gentle, especially because he seems so excited about it.
“It’s not for a few months, Bee. Our roots will be just fine.” He’s stirring the pasta now.
“No, I get that,” I try a different approach. “But I just started working and even in a few months, I don’t think they’ll let me take the time off. And even then, with all the events coming up, I can’t just leave. I have to be present for those, you know?”
“So you’re not excited about the tickets then.” He stated and started to plate our food.
“No, that’s not—” I take a breath. “I am excited, Mattie. I just wish you would’ve talked to me first.” My hand pushes through my hair and I briefly take note of the cement still lightly streaked through the front ends. Mattie turns around, holding two plates of food in his hands and doesn’t say anything for a minute as he sets the table. I help by eating a few raspberries as I bring the fruit salad over.
As we sit down, he finally speaks. “Let’s just forget about it for now and eat. We can talk about this later.” I nod. You see, these are the things he says that make me feel like a child. It’s like I can’t be included in the decision making and if I have something to say, it’s dismissed until ‘later.’
I take a bite of chicken. “Thanks for dinner.” I say quietly. He hums his answer and we eat our meal in silence.
I feel really bad. It’s been a few hours since dinner and Mattie hasn’t said a word. I even tried to talk to him about hunting. He loves hunting. All I got was a small nod. Ugh! It’s not like I work at a McDonald’s, for craps sake. These people don’t believe in time off. They work through the stomach flu, or the birth of a baby.
I do feel bad, but this isn’t the first time Mattie has decided something without talking to me about it first. See the ring on my finger for reference. He’d decided to move and quit his job back in Idaho all before I even had my bags packed. Mattie’s a decision maker and I have no qualms with that—as long as he includes me in his bigger decisions before he actually makes them.
He doesn’t talk to me again until we’re getting ready for bed. I’m brushing my teeth and he sits on the counter by the sink. “Bee, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about the tickets before I bought them.” He apologizes sincerely and my guilt increases. His voice is small and his eyes are sad. Holy Hannah, I feel like I just kicked a puppy. “I just thought you’d be more excited.” He finishes. Twice. I feel like I kicked a puppy twice. “Regardless though, I’m still going to go. You can come with me or stay here. I won’t mind either way.” Yeah, right. I know better than that. He’ll be hurt if I don’t go with him.
I cave. As per usual.
I speak around my tooth brush. “I’ll see what I can do, Mattie.” Immediately he lights up. He jumps from the counter and celebrates around our small bathroom. Phil starts barking from the bedroom. I smile my, you’re-such-a-dork-how-am-I-not-in-love-with-you smile as he wraps his arms around my waist and spins me around, flinging used toothpaste onto the floor. Gross.
“Yes!” Mattie exclaims. “Thank you, Bee!” He hugs me.
“Yeah, yeah.” Brushing him off, jokingly, I push him back. “I gotta spit.” He lets go of me and lets out another ‘WOO!’ as he walks into the bedroom.
I look at myself in the mirror.
On the one hand, the life I have with Mattie isn’t a bad one. I love him and he’s in love with me. That should be enough for me, right? A lot of people don’t even get that and here I am, being ungrateful. On the other hand, I never saw our relationship progressing this far. I was betting on it fizzling out and now that I see that’s not the case I’m bordering on panic mode. I can’t pass this off as cold feet forever.
I remember the day we met. Admittedly, we met first on Tinder. Embarrassing, I know. We talked for a while, even considered meeting up, and then I grew a brain and deleted the app.
After my mom died, I retreated into a shell of sorts. I wasn’t particularly social. My dad and brother were the only people I really talked to on a regular basis. I didn’t have a lot of friends, and guy friends were completely none existent. When I got to college, my roommate at the time suggested I trade my antisocial tendencies for a dating app. Peer pressure is a real thing, okay? I kept the app for my first week and after I got one too many hook up requests, I figured I could sacrifice having friends for my peace of mind. Surprisingly, I made an impression on one guy I was actually having a conversation with. Matthew Dempsey. He was practically Prince Charming back then.
It wasn’t for a few days after I deleted Tinder that he came up to me in my first semester science class. I was excited to be given that kind of attention. I wasn’t used to it and so I just went along with the whirlwind of it all. He would buy me flowers, take me on dates, and make me dinner. Everything that I was told was what a girl should want. We never argued or had disagreements. We spent all of our time together. We did homework together, we went grocery shopping together, and we took classes together. We were completely integrated into each other’s lives. It only made sense to become official.
He pulled me out of my shell. I became a confident, outgoing, and personable woman. I made a lot of friends and continued to spend all my time with Mattie. Somewhere along the way, however, our relationship stopped progressing for me. I realized that we were spending all this time together because he wouldn’t really let me spend time with anyone else. He needed me. He still does. I realized that I was standing stagnant while Mattie was clearly moving leaps and bounds. I was ready to call it quits and he pulled out a ring. My best friend was proposing and I wanted nothing more than to say no.
Honestly, it was the look in his eyes that made me say yes though. His baby blues were glistening with happy tears and he had on the most genuine smile. I hadn’t seen that one before. I saw our future in his eyes. I saw us being happy and passionate and completely in love. I saw what he sees. For a split second, I believed that we could actually have that. I convinced myself that what I was feeling was just a hoax and that I could shake it off and start over.
Evidently, that’s not the case.
I stare back at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes hold none of the excitement of a future life that Mattie’s did. There’s no depth to them anymore. You look into my eyes all you see is a shallow surface of a happy glint that just glosses over feelings of discontent.
I blink.
You love him, you love him, you love him. I love him.
Question is, do I love him enough to put him before myself until death do we part?
I shut off the light.
Chapter Four:
[If you want to read the rest, you will have to buy the book when it comes out. 😉 ]