I blink.
“It’s the perfect time for a honeymoon, don’t you think?”
“What?”
“You. Me. Tofino.”
“You want,” I say slowly, “to go on my honeymoon together?”
“That’s right. You owe me one, Frankie. We never got to go on ours.”
I stare at him a moment longer and then I realize what a gift this could be. How much I need a shake-up. I’ve been stuck in limbo for the last two months, and here is a chance to be released. An adventure. An opportunity to finally travel together. A week to get our friendship back on solid ground.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s do it.”
“Really? Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I say.
“You’re not going to fight me on it?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Maybe a little. I had a whole speech prepared.”
Classic. “How many times did it involve saying ‘I told you so’?”
George’s smile is gentle. “Not even once.”
Chapter Eleven
We Were Thirty
Seven Months Ago
My mother and I decorated the table with boughs of cedar and pine, silver candlesticks, and the lace tablecloth we saved for Christmas Day. Moby was outside with Birdie, playing in the snow, while Anh, Darwin, and Dad drank eggnog by the fireplace in the living room. Nate was spending the holiday with his mother.
I had slipped on my ring before Mimi and George arrived. We’d taken our first bites of turkey when I clinked my knife against my wineglass. I smiled, but I could feel my lips resisting.
“I have some news.”
George looked at me from across the table, his brows drawn.
We’d both arrived home yesterday, and I’d planned to tell him last night when it was just the two of us. We were on opposite ends of the couch in the Big House family room, watchingLittle Women, a holiday tradition. All I had to do was reach for the remote, press pause, and open my mouth. But I couldn’t do it.
With his travel schedule, George had only met Nate twice. The first time, he treated Nate with a dismissiveness I doubt anyone else but me would have picked up on. It was clear that he thought Nate was like the guys who preceded him—a fly-by boyfriend and not to be taken seriously. The second time, I’d invited George to a dinner party at Nate’s. He’d brought the woman he was seeing, but I could feel his judgment of my relationship the entire time. When we were alone in the kitchen, he made a comment about me playing house.
As we watched the movie, I grew more nervous. Laurie and Jo danced. Meg lost her glove. Amy burned Jo’s manuscript. Jo cut off her hair. By the time Beth died, I had convinced myself that George was going to react badly. His opinion mattered more to me than anyone else’s, and I didn’t want to hear it. I told myself it would be better for him to get the news at the same time as everyone else, but the truth was, I’d hoped an audience would ensure his good behavior.
Now, eight pairs of eyes looked at me, waiting.
“Nate and I are engaged,” I announced, setting down the knife and wiping my palms on my jeans.
No one said a word. George stared at me, his mouth a straight line.
“I’m going to move into his place after the holiday, and we’ll have the wedding in May,” I said, willing myself to smile. “We don’t want a long engagement.”
Three more seconds of silence ticked by, and then suddenly a flurry of comments were bandied about the room.
