My initial response is to say no because Keller and I are barely talking. How can we possibly walk down the aisle and confess our undying love for each other if we can’t even look each other in the eye?
But because I want to be out of here as quickly as possible, I lie.
“Yes, so ready,” I answer.
“And what about you, Keller?” Elias focuses his attention on Keller, and from the corner of my eye, I watch Keller take on a calm composure. Looks like we’re both acting today.
“I’ve been ready since the day I asked her to marry me,” he answers, his head straight, not glancing at me once.
“Good to hear. Well, our last session is just for you. I’m going to give you a half hour to just be with each other. I’m sure after the many directions you’ve been pulled, this is the thirty minutes that you need. When that half hour is over, I’ll come back in, and we can discuss anything else that might be on your minds.”
“Oh, okay,” I say.
“I would like you to discuss the future and what you see it looking like. This is a conversation just between the two of you, but if you need me to facilitate any discussion, I’ll be right outside the door.” He rises from his chair and then walks out of the room. The soft click of the door indicating that I’m alone with Keller.
And for the first time being alone with him, I feel . . . uncomfortable.
I don’t know how to talk to him. How to broach the subject of irritation between us.
He can barely look at me, and I can barely look at him.
He won’t hold my hand, and I won’t hold his.
This morning, instead of kissing me goodbye, he took off without looking back.
This is not how I want to spend the last days before our wedding.
Something needs to change.
Someone needs to break.
That someone is me.
Wanting to move past the elephant in the room, I turn toward him. “What do you think the future looks like?”
The muscles in his jaw tick as he leans back against the couch. “You tell me,” he says. He turns his head to face me. “Do you even see a future with me?”
“Yes,” I answer, my brow pinching together. And when he gives me a disbelieving look, I add, “But it feels up in the air right now.”
He slowly nods. And I hate that confirmation from him.
I hate that we’re both unsure of what’s to come. It makes me physically sick to my stomach, because from the moment my lips touched his in Harrogate, I knew this was it. He was it. No man would ever be able to match up to him. No man would ever be able to sweep me off my feet like he does.
So why am I now even second-guessing the future with him?
“Can you face me, please? This will be easier,” I ask, and he listens, positioning himself so he’s leaning his side against the couch now, one leg curled up on the couch. “I don’t know how to make things right between us. I’m lost, Keller.”
“Me too,” he answers.
“Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“You know how I feel. I don’t need to repeat it. I’ve been saying the same damn thing for the last few weeks.”
It’s true, he has.
It was a filler question, something to keep the conversation going, but he’s better than that.
“Well, are you having second thoughts about the future?”
