“I mean, what’s really the point of being married?” They cross Fifth Avenue, taking a winding path into Central Park. It feels easier to keep walking, as if she can sidestep the entire conversation as long as they’re in transit. “It doesn’t have to bethator nothing.”
“So, you don’t want…thatagain.”
Her boots crunch on the fallen leaves. “Is this a trick question?”
“No.” He slows down in front of a large arch made of brick and stone. “It’s pretty straightforward.” Ari gazes at the bare tree branches that form impossibly complicated webs in front of the orange and pink watercolor sky. She’d rather not face him while he’s standing in front of something so photogenic, talking about marriage. “Technically, it was a statement.”
“Technically,that’s not what I said,” she clarifies. “Shoveling thousands of dollars into the wedding industrial complex has nothing to do with making a long-term relationship work.”
“Getting up in front of family and friends and saying, ‘I love this woman and I want her to be my wife’ doesn’t have to involve an ‘industrial complex.’ ”
I want her to be my wifeloops in her brain, only with Cass saying it. Then it morphs into something indecipherable.
Ari shakes it off and turns around, walking backward in front of him, passing under the arch. The cool, musty air fills her lungs. It feels like a different world for the nine seconds it takes to pass beneath it. “Since when do you want to attendanyevent with your ‘friends and family’?”
“Good point,” he concedes.
When they emerge on the other side, Ari nods toward a bench at the edge of the footpath. They sit on the weathered wood, leaving a healthy distance between them, like they’re each enclosed in their own protective force fields.
“With Cass, it was like…” She trails off, trying to remember why being married seemed necessary. “Getting that piece of paper would somehow validate that she choseme. Because without that, I was just part of someone’s midlife crisis.” She picks at the loose button on her coat. “Turns out, even with a government document, midlife crises end eventually.”
“You should light some candles before you say something so romantic.” She looks up at him. The sunset creates some distractingly beautiful golden hour lighting across his face. He crosses his arms tight across his chest. “I have a ring—a family heirloom from my dad’s side. When Sophie was in town, I’d carry it everywhere, just in case I felt this shining moment of certainty. I didn’t want to propose unless I was absolutely sure the answer would be ‘yes.’ But it never happened.”
Ari folds her legs underneath her on the bench. “Do you still want to be married someday?” she asks, even though it’s uncomfortable to bring the question to the surface.
Josh finds some point in the middle distance to stare at. “In theory,” he finally says.
It’s completely expected and a little disappointing. Now she’s forced to imagine meeting Josh and his hypothetical…wifefor dinner. A Lauren, probably. Smiling at their inside jokes—their own little language that Ari wouldn’t know. The two of them would have stupid, petty fights, followed by amazing make-up sex. Josh would make his wife whatever healthy dish she wanted for breakfast. They’d go grocery shopping at Fairway and buy organic produce while pushing a state-of-the-art Bluetooth-enabled baby stroller.
He would completely move on with his life, the way people do when they’re in relationships—when friends become people you squeeze into your schedule because your world revolves around your significant other. The idea of it makes her heart constrict—thinking of Josh as another person who’ll inevitably leave her behind.
“But I don’t think I’d propose in public, in front of a Fragonard. It’s a bit on the nose,” he adds, rising up from the bench, oblivious to her spiraling thoughts.
Ari breathes out and it’s like opening a relief valve from the conversation. She shakes her numb hands and winds a scarf around her neck, bristling against the cold, following Josh as he starts to walk south.
She catches up to him, nudging slightly. “Let’s stop at the halal cart for dinner.”
He stops in his tracks. There’s this funny, sheepish expression on his face that Ari hasn’t seen before. “Oh, I…have plans.”
“ ‘Plans’?”
He looks up at the trees, avoiding eye contact. “The yoga instructor.”
“Oh.” Something in her chest burns but she manages to utter, “Yoga instructor pussy? I think I’m jealous.” Yeah, it’s definitely jealousy, but she can’t tell if it’s directed at Josh or his date.
“It’s just dinner.”
Is he grimacing or suppressing a smile? Her fist clenches around her phone.
“Wow. Straight to dinner. Not even vibe-check drinks first?” Ari takes a couple steps away from him. “This could be the first night of the rest of your life and I can barely handle the emotional intimacy of sexting.”
It comes out a touch more bitter than intended.
“I thought you were going to get back out there, too.”
“Totally.” She puts a little distance between them. “I definitely am.”What if his date goes well?“I’m— I should let you get home.” Ari gestures at nothing in particular, backing away. “I assume you’ll be changing into a different black outfit.”
What if he gets laid?Her stomach twists, considering that possibility. The fact that she evenhasnervous feelings about it at all intensifies the stomachache.
