The words echoed in my ears like a hollow drum.He used the nickname only when he wanted to be sentimental.
I wanted to believe this was enough.His love, attention to detail, and adorable dorkiness were all I needed.But deep down, something stirred.
Something I had been ignoring for too long.Something that had been clawing out from the depths.I buried it with each new friend getting engaged and getting married.Ignored it until I couldn’t any longer.
I wanted Wyatt.But I wanted a wedding, too.
And the truth was.
I couldn’t have both.
“She loved it.Of course she did.I know my woman,” I said to Chris, one of my college buddies on the phone.He called to let me know about the updated plans for his bachelor party.He had booked rooms in New Orleans right along Bourbon Street, and he’d mapped out all the prime drinking locations.I was exhausted thinking about it.
In college, I had been the “party animal”, and my friends had expected nothing less from me.But I was a year into my thirties now, and I just didn’t recover like I used to.I much preferred throwing back a beer on the couch, Rose’s legs overlapping mine while we caught up on the newest episode ofThe Bachelor.
God, when did I get so old?Once upon a time, the thought of sitting home on a Friday night would have disgusted me, but now I lived for those quiet moments with my girl.
“If you need help picking out a gift for Cynthia, I’m your guy,” I added, knowing damn well he was the worst gift-giver in the world.Other than the engagement ring, the last thing he gave Cynthia was a waffle maker for Valentine’s Day, claiming breakfast in bed was romantic.Not realizing that cooking and delivering breakfast was the romantic part.Sometimes I wondered how he snagged a girl like Cynthia in the first place.Rose said it was his six-pack.“Breakfast in bed,” I muttered.
Chris groaned.“Don’t start, man.She still hasn’t let me live that down.Worse, she uses it as ammunition every time she’s mad at me.”
I smiled as Chris went on and on.Rose and I always laughed at how our friends talked about each other.How they were so quick to complain.It just reminded us how lucky we were to have found each other.
“Next time just buy her a box of Ferrero Rochers and call it a day.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because they’re her favorite candy!Dude, how do I know that, and you don’t?”
“She eats a lot of chocolate.”
A sigh rushed out of me, and I pressed a finger between my eyebrows.“This is why men have a bad rap.It’s the details, man.Pay attention to the details.It’ll set you up for a happy marriage.”
“You’re so quick to give out marriage advice, yet Rose is still ringless.When are you going to make her an honest woman?It’s been what?Ten years.”
My fingers tightened around my phone.Here we go again.
“Eleven,” I corrected.
“Eleven?”
“First off, Rose doesn’t need me to make her anything.She’s already the most honest person I know.And secondly, we’re good.Happy.Marriage isn’t some ticket to ‘happily ever after.’Not when you’re already there.”
I left out the part where I watched my parents get married after being together for fifteen years when I was eight, and how their lives completely fell apart shortly after.They were fine until they took that next step.Then it all deteriorated, and I lost my family and my sense of security.Dad lost his mind, and Mom cried more than she smiled.
“We don’t need a piece of paper to define our love.Besides, we’ve already been together longer than most marriages.We’re solid.”
“I know that.Hell, weallknow that.I guess we just want to bring the same energy you bring to all of us toyourwedding.”
“Not necessary.However, when I turn forty, I expect a huge blowout.Massive.I want the whole shebang.I don’t care if you’re a bitter married dad of three.I want Jello shots, ice luges, and a DJ who only plays mid-2000s hits.”
Chris laughed.“By forty, we’ll be in bed by nine.”
“Bullshit.I’ll be on that dance floor with glow sticks and a coconut shell bra.”
“Why do I feel like you have an entire closet of coconut shell bras?”
“Maybe because I do.”
