“Ken, I’ve had the opportunity of a lifetime handed to me.” His big green eyes are full of excitement as he looks at me.
“You don’t say, and what is this opportunity?” I ask, tone irritated, folding my arms across my chest.
“I’ve been offered a job in LA.”
LA? He planned to get a job in New York. It’s why we decided to stay in New York. He didn’t want to move out of the city.
“Congratulations, what did you say to them?” I’m praying that he told them he would think about the offer and get back to them.
Silence. A deafening silence falls between us as he continues to pack.
“Carson, what did you tell them?” My tone is firmer this time as I release my arms and my hands ball into fists. I already know what’s coming. I can feel it in my gut.
“I… I accepted the job,” he says quietly. Tears well in my eyes, and my heart begins to thump loudly.
“Without speaking to me?” I say on a shaky breath.
“I couldn’t turn it down, Ken. This is the Milton Brothers. Do you know how big they are in the advertising world?”
No, I didn’t. I couldn’t give a shit if the president himself had offered him a job. We were supposed to be a team, in it together. He was my high school boyfriend; we’ve been together since we were fifteen. He gave me a promise ring in college after he admitted he made out with a sorority girl. Hannah, fucking Hannah. I forgave him. He promised me it was no more than a drunken kiss. I also forgave him for Tiffany and Amber. Am I a fool? Yes. Did I deserve better? Probably, but he was Carson. My Carson. My comfort blanket. My parents loved him, and his parents loved me. Our families were friends; we were written in the stars. Or so I thought. But now he’s making plans about our future without even consulting me, and it hurts. A lot.
“I get that, but I thought we would talk about this and decide together. How soon would we have to move?” I ask, trying my best to sound interested. Maybe I could live in LA?
“I’m on the 8.20 flight to LA tonight,” he says as he zips up his suitcase.
“Tonight? Carson, it’s Christmas eve. It’s my birthday tomorrow. My parents are expecting us. We can’t bail,” I shout, throwing my arms up in the air.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but it was part of the contract. Please apologize to your parents for me. I know they will understand.” He disappears into the walk-in closet, and as his words register, I march in after him, my anger simmering to a dangerous level. I slap a hand against the door frame and grip it with force as I say through gritted teeth, “What do you mean, apologize to your parents for me, am I not coming with you?”
Silence. I swear to God, I am about to rip him a new one if he doesn’t start talking.
“For god’s sake, Carson, will you look at me?” I screech. His body stiffens, and he slowly lifts his head. His light green eyes stare into mine, and the somber look on his face tells me everything he hasn’t said.
I’m not going to LA with him.
“Ken, I think I need to do this on my own. Things between us, well, they haven’t been great, and maybe we need a little break.”
Pain, a sudden, intense feeling, hits me square in the chest. Like a dagger to the heart. Seven years of loving this man, the only man I could ever imagine being with, has just shattered my world. He’s leaving, and he doesn’t want to take me with him.
The tears that threatened to fall are now coming thick and fast, and I swipe them away with the back of my hand.
“How could you do this? I agreed to stay in New York for you. I turned down an internship in London for you.”
Yeah, that was a tough one to accept. Straight out of college this past summer, my professor put me forward for a six-month internship in London working at Burberry, but I knew Carsonwould never go. He needed to remain stateside to join his father’s company, and so I turned it down.
My fingers twist the promise ring on my left hand that has remained there since I was sixteen. A promise from Carson that he was mine, and I was his, and one day he would marry me. I have worn that ring every day since. Even through his betrayals. But now, that ring that I’ve worn like a badge of honor and devotion suddenly feels like a heavy chain weighing me down, and I want to rip it off. But he is right. We haven’t been us since we graduated college. But you don’t throw something away because it's not perfect anymore; you work to fix it.
I reach for the closet thing, one of my purses, and launch it at him. He has the good sense to duck and narrowly avoids a Prada purse to the temple.
“I swear to god, Carson, if you don’t start using words, I will tear this closet apart and bury you under it.”
He holds his hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, his tone panicked.
“I just think we need some time apart. We’ve been together since we were so young, I think we need to experience life before we settle down, you know?”
I run a frustrated hand through my freshly highlighted hair and exhale a long breath. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You want a break, a pause. Get some life experience, sow your wild oats, then come back to me when you are done, and we settle down and get married.”
“Yes, exactly.” Was that excitement in his tone?
