“I can’t get married,” I insist.
“Why not?” he asks, looking at me like a lost puppy.
I should say because we’re both drunk, that this is ridiculous, and because he’s straight, but instead, I give him the truth.
“I said I’d never marry anyone else.”
Chad’s eyes go wide. “Oh my god. Were you married?”
“No.” The word is rough in my throat as I break eye contact. I haven’t talked about this, ever, with anyone. “But I wanted to marry someone once.”
“And…?” he prompts.
“And it didn’t… He’s gone.”
“I’m sorry, John,” Chad says earnestly.
I don’t say anything as we stand here, holding each other. My mind is spinning between logic and desire.
“So,” Chad starts again. “What, you promised you’d be miserable for the rest of your life? Is that why you’re so grumpy and boring now?”
I let out a surprised laugh. “First of all, fuck you. And second, no. I didn’t promise him that. He’d want me to be happy.” I sigh, trying to stay in the moment and not get lost in the emotions of my past.
“Then why aren’t you?” Chad asks thoughtfully.
“Because it’s not that easy!” I scoff, dropping myarms from Chad and breaking free from his grip around my neck.
This is why I don’t talk about him. I don’t even normally let myself think about him. But between Chad and the alcohol, I guess I’ve lost the tight grip I normally have on my control.
“Hey, hey,” Chad soothes, rushing up to put what I’m sure he means as a comforting hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. But… if he wanted you to be happy, I was just pointing out that you don’t have to keep suffering to prove you loved him.”
My eyes snap to his because what the fuck? “When did you get so insightful?”
“I’m a man of multitudes.” He grins, and I laugh, despite myself, because that didn’t even make sense, but I also know what he means. “And maybe I’m drunk,” he offers, lifting his hand and drawing his pointer finger and thumb together. “But I think you deserve something good. Something fun. Something?—”
“Don’t say it.”
“Something like me.” He smiles. “I promise I’ll be the best husband ever. I’d cook for you—well, I’d order food for you. I’d hug you every day and hold your hand. I’d make you laugh. I’d be the little spoon, or the big spoon if you’d prefer! I’d remind you that you’re, like, super hot even when you’re being mean to me for no reason because I fully accept your grumpiness. You don’t have to change for me at all. Just marry me, say yes!”
I grit my teeth. This man is impossible. He’s too loud, too confident, too… charming.
I hate that the voice in my head—telling me that I need to loosen up and have more fun, and that Chad is right and I could be happy—sounds like Luke.
But is he right?
More than anything, I hate that Chad is making it all sound so easy, so simple. That he’s making a part of me actually want to do this.
“And you’re running out of excuses. So prove it,” Chad challenges, cocky as ever.
“Prove what?”
“That your life didn’t end just because a chapter did. That you can choose something new. Choose to be happy, John.” He lifts his chin. “Choose me.”
“Chad.”
“Yes, my love?”
“Don’t call me that.”
