18
Samantha
My first marriage proposal was pretty terrible.
Brent only proposed because he thought he’d impregnated his one-night stand.He was a relatively good guy, so I lucked out there, but it was hardly the story little girls dream about.
And now my boyfriend’sdadjust proposed to me.
Why does my life always take these bizarre twists and turns?Why can’tany of themever be something that might be delightful and cute?
“I’m so very sorry about my dad.”Richard looks as chagrined as I feel.He and his father came in the same car, but thanks to a last-minute call, his father’s staying in Waterford for a meeting with some startup company he’s been talking to for a while.That means we have an entire thirty-minute car ride, longer if I drive responsibly around the hedges, to talk about the ring.
And my uterus.
I click my key fob, it chirps, and I open the driver’s side door.
“Want me to drive?”Richard’s offer is a kind one.He’s heard me rant about the tiny roads and inflated speed limits.
I toss him the keys as I circle to the passenger side.“Thanks.”
“We may have to get you a faster car so that I don’t mind taking over for you,” he quips, and then he freezes.“Sorry, I know things are already super weird with my dad and all that.”He groans.“I’m sorry for making it worse.”
I get in the car, staring at the hedge I parked against.“It’s fine,” I say, “but we do need to talk.”
“That doesn’t sound great,” Richard says.“No one ever says, ‘we need to talk,’ if they’re delighted to do something.They just gush about how happy they are.”
I can’t argue.“It’s not about your dad, though.”I wince.I’ve had the benefit of several months of thinking about how I should break this news to him.Even so, I haven’t come up with a ‘right way,’ and I’m still not really sure what I wanthimto say when I tell him.
Actually, now I’m lying to myself.
I know what I want him to say.
I want him to tell me that it doesn’t matter.I want him to pull over the car after I tell him about my lie, and I want him to kiss me, and I want him to tell me that his family legacy, all his wealth, and his lifelong desires for children all pale next to his love for me.
But what person in their right mind would say that?He hasn’t even said he loves me yet, which makes his dad’s ring-trick even stranger and more inappropriate.
But Richard doesn’t start the car.
He turns in his tiny seat, and he reaches for me, and then he drops his hands, my key dangling from his right one, in his lap.“This is all so—I’m so mad at my dad.I should’ve told you that I loved you a month ago.Maybe two, but I didn’t want to scare you.”He finally looks at me.“But then I waited so long, that I wanted to tell you in a special way.I wanted it to mean something.Now I’ve waited even longer, and when Dad said I was insane to be dating an American, and I screamed in his face that Ilovedan American, he kind of had to get on board.But then he knew this big thing I hadn’t even told you yet.”He takes my hand with his, dropping the keys in the cupholder.“I love you, Samantha Stiber.I love your smile.I love your walk.I love watching you ride horses.I love the grace of your hands on the reins, or the feel of your hand in mine.”He squeezes my fingers.“And above all else, I love how you make me want to be more than I am, have more than I ever dreamed, and spend more time here in Ireland, or wherever you are, because I only want to be with you.I’ll move to America if I have to, to stay by your side.”
It’s a big declaration, and now I feel even worse.
“I love you, too,” I say.“And I don’t have the right words to tell you just how much, but I don’t really have the right to, because I’ve been keeping something from you.”I look down.“Something big.”
He doesn’t release my hand.He doesn’t move away, or even push.He just waits, calmly and quietly, like nothing I say could ever faze him.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I actually love himmorefor how he’s reacting.
“You’ll probably remember when I told you I didn’twantkids.”I inhale slowly.“The thing is, it’s a lot more than that, and that was actually a lie.I adore kids, even the really terrible, bratty ones.I like the whiny ones.I like the chubby ones.I like the ones who pick their nose.”
He’s beaming.“That may be the best lie anyone has ever told.I’m?—”
“Wait.”A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I pull my hand out of his grasp.“Because the lie wasn’t about whether I liked kids.It’s that I love kids, but I—” I shake my head.I can’t say it, even now.
“What?”He looks truly concerned now.
“I’ve had miscarriages,” I finally say.“And not one or two.I’ve hadninemiscarriages, where the pregnancy was confirmed, and then didn’t—” I choke.Now it’s not just one tear.I’m sobbing in my own car’s passenger seat, with Richard looking utterly beside himself next to me.
