“I want you to be the first person I see every morning and the last person I see every night. I want to build a life with you, because life without you isn’t something I’m willing to consider. Charlotte, will you…”
Before he could finish the question, Charlotte pressed a finger to his lips.
I think we all had a moment’s panic that we’d miscalculated, but then she dropped to her knees in front of him.
“I can’t imagine my life without you either. I never thought I’d be able to trust in love and happily ever after. Then I met you and your love is so solid. So strong. And I can’t imagine anything else.” She reached for his hands, and he pulled her fingers to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles.
Staring into each other’s eyes, they asked and then answered the question in unison.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
Still kneeling, they fell into each other’s arms, kissing and laughing as the room erupted into cheers.
The servers moved through the room, passing out champagne as Ford helped Charlotte to her feet. He pulled her into his arms one more time, kissing her as if she was the air he needed to breathe. And then he slipped the ring on her finger, and my divorce attorney friend, the one who’d been so sure she’d never take a chance on marriage, became a soon-to-be bride.
I watched as the happy couple kissed one more time, and the longing in my chest became almost palpable. I wanted that. I wanted what they had—one person to love and who would love me for exactly who I was. Someone I could build a life with. I fought the urge to glance at the doorway one more time on the off chance that Jake changed his mind and decided this thing between us was worth fighting for.
I hadn’t heard from him since he sent the picture of his dog, and by some miracle of self-control, I’d avoided sending another text. I’d been clear about wanting to try dating even though I had no idea how it would work. I was willing to try to find a way through things. Together. I couldn’t do more than that, not and maintain my self-respect. He had to want it too.
While our friends rushed forward to congratulate Charlotte and Ford, I gave in to the urge and gazed at the entryway. If life was like one of the romantic comedies Jake and I watched together, this was where the hero would show up to declare his undying love for the heroine. But this wasn’t a movie, and I wasn’t a Hallmark heroine.
Suddenly needing more quiet than I could find in a room full of happy people, I grabbed my bag and headed for the library. We’d used the room as a staging area for the party, and empty plastic catering tubs and boxes littered the floor. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with a mixture of romance novels, cookbooks, and travel memoirs. Aside from the mess from theparty, it looked like a perfect blend of Charlotte and Ford. The whole house did. The ache that had never quite left returned in force, and I collapsed onto one of the plush armchairs.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what kind of books Jake had and if he put them back on the bookshelf or left them wherever he finished reading them. His housekeeper would make sure they got put away eventually, but I didn’t remember him having bookshelves in his loft. Maybe he was an e-reader kind of guy. Given his bend toward technology, that made sense.
Before I could travel further down the combining libraries rabbit hole, my phone vibrated. The sound startled me, but it was the foolish leap that my heart took at the sound that I really needed to watch out for. I pulled the phone out of my bag, repeatingit’s not Jakelike a litany against heartbreak.
I swiped the phone’s screen and bit back a twinge of disappointment at the text message from John.
J
Just got notice that the approvals all went through. Brilliant job. Couldn’t have done it without you. Be sure to take time to celebrate the win.
I held my finger over the screen while I ran through responses in my head. Since our conversation at the gala, John kept things between us friendly and professional. He’d been a consummate professional, the good—hell, maybe perfect—on paper guy. For a moment, I imagined how easy it would be to form the kind of romantic partnership he’d offered. I’d always know what was expected, and he’d do everything expected of him, exactly the way we both did with everything else in our lives.
Did it matter if it meant not really being seen? I’d been matching expectations my whole life. Chameleoning myself intothe image whoever I was with had of me. Shaping myself and my surroundings into something pleasing for others’ consumption. It felt so comfortable at this point, it barely chafed anymore. If it left a part of me—one I wasn’t prepared to look too closely at—feeling isolated and so alone, what did it matter? We came into the world alone and left it alone.
The image of Ford and Charlotte, kneeling before each other, asking to join their lives together, filled the front of my mind, and my stupid traitorous eyes brimmed with tears. I wanted that, someone who saw me—the real me—and who wanted every complicated bit. Fuck it. I wanted a chance to get to know all those parts of myself too. The messy, unattractive ones that made me who I was. An interesting, challenging, complete person and not just some doll performing the steps I’d been programmed to do.
The ones I’d programmed for myself. Because if I was really going to embrace all the parts of myself, I had to acknowledge the expectations and rules I’d made for myself. The public persona I projected even to my friends. Admittedly to a smaller degree, but still. Everyone deserved someone who saw and accepted the unpolished version of themselves. I was going to have to start being that person for myself first. Then, maybe, if I was very lucky, I could find someone who could see me too and accept me for who I was, not what I added to their balance sheet.
The way Jake did.
33
Iunfolded the wagon I’d ordered to save me from having to make six trips with Brick’s stuff and started to fill it with dog beds, a collapsable crate, specialty food, three kinds of treats, and enough toys to supply an entire doggie daycare. Brick, looking wary but not scared, stayed close enough to me to keep his leash slack.
He still occasionally leaned against me when we ventured out in public, as if to make sure I was still there. But in the few weeks we’d been together, he’d started to lose his hunched the sky is falling look, opting instead for cautious optimism. I loved him so much—both for his resilience and the way he’d started going into new situations expecting good things. I knew I was doing a lot of anthropomorphizing, but I dared anyone who lived with a dog not to do the same. Especially a dog who’d been through as much as Brick.
“Good God, man. I didn’t drag this much stuff around when the boys were babies.” My sister smiled and leaned in to give me a quick hug. “Who is this handsome boy?” She crouched down, offering her hand to the dog. He sniffed cautiously and then apparently judging her safe and worthy, pressed his head into her palm for ear scratches. “What a good boy.” She cooeda stream of praise, which elicited an exposed belly for tummy rubs.
I glanced from my sister and blissed-out dog to the house where my nephews pressed three eager faces against the storm door, practically vibrating with excitement.
“I told them to wait inside so we wouldn’t overwhelm the dog,” said my sister. “But I can’t guarantee how long the door will hold them.”
The dog sat up, crowding closer to Amanda and demanding attention. He seemed more than ready to meet the heathens. I motioned to my nephews, who tumbled out of the house in their hurry to meet the dog. My sister stood, and Brick’s focus shifted to the approaching horde. He glanced from me to my sister and back to the kids, but there was none of the timidity he’d had earlier.
