My scrolling pauses on the newest contact. There’s only one call from him lasting two seconds to ensure the number is correct. If I call Euan, will he come over? I imagine leaning on him while facing off against Theresa. Borrowing a bit of his calm strength.
But Euan barely knows me, and I shouldn’t rely on someone I just met to help me navigate the end of a relationship that lasted over a year. I need to see this through on my own.
Someone knocks on the door. It hasn’t been ten minutes yet, but it doesn’t surprise me that Theresa is early. Even if I had found someone to call, I’ve run out of time.
I open the door and step aside, silently inviting Theresa in. Since it’s Sunday, she’s wearing casual clothes, which for her still includes heels and a ruffled blouse. The only time I see her fully dressed down is when she’s in her pajamas.
Normally, this is the part where I kiss her in greeting. It feels odd to keep my distance. To close the door without saying anything or touching her at all.
Theresa sits down on the bench next to the door and carefully removes her heels.
Guess she plans to be here for a while.I move into the kitchen and start doing dishes. There aren’t many in the sink, but it gives me something to do so I’m not stuck staring at her, waiting for her to say whatever she came here to say so we can all move on.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” she asks. She stands at the divide between the kitchen and the dining room, arms crossed over her chest, chin raised in challenge. Without her heels, she should look smaller, but she’s always known how to fill a room with her presence.
“You’re the one who wanted to talk.”
“You don’t haveanythingto say to me after last night?”
I sigh and place the last dish in the drainer. Damn, that distraction didn’t last nearly long enough. I wipe my hands off on a kitchen towel, taking my time. “I’m sure I would have thought of something if you’d given me more time. It’s all still a little fresh.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her gaze drilling a hole in the back of my head. And then she sighs, and I canhearher deflate. “I’m sorry.”
The apology throws me off balance and I have to grab onto the counter to keep myself steady. “What?” When I look at her, the power pose is gone. Her arms are still crossed over herchest, but she looks like she’s holding herself together rather than blocking herself off.
“I overreacted,” she continues. “A proposal is supposed to be a special moment. The first step on the journey to marriage. But neither of themfeltspecial. The first time, it felt like you were just proposing to get it over with, like you hadn’t put any thought into it.”
“I did.” My voice is quiet enough that I expect her to talk right over me, but to my surprise, she pauses. Her expression is open, expectant, inviting me to explain. “I took you to one of our favorite restaurants because I wanted a proposal that reflected our lives. I ordered the same sushi I did for you the first time we went there, even though I know you’ve found your own favorites. I asked the question quietly, without any fanfare, because public proposals put a lot of pressure on the woman to say yes. I didn’t want you to feel cornered if you decided you weren’t ready.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth shapes a small, surprised ‘o'. When I finish, she licks her lips and says, “I did feel pressured the second time. Everyone’s eyes were on us, and I knew it would be so much worse if I said no.”
I snort, remembering the extended silence even after she said yes. “The second time definitely didn’t go as planned.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I think it would have been the perfect proposal if it had.”
“Really? Because right from the beginning, you didn’t look happy with me.”
Her face pinches into a sour pucker. “Alright, so ‘perfect’ may be an overstatement. It wasn’t how I imagined it. I thought you would put the ring in a glass of champagne or something, like in the movies. So when that didn’t happen, I started to second-guess the purpose of the date. When you finally started your speech, you sounded like a school kid fumbling his way through a report he wrote on the bus that morning.”
I laugh, feeling strangely light as we discuss that disaster. “That’s how Ifelt.”
“I’m sorry for how I treated you afterward.” She steps forward and clasps both of my hands in hers. “I should have reassured you rather than making demands. No matter how it felt at the time, you didn’t embarrass me on purpose.”
My brow furrows. Itsoundslike an apology but I’m not sure itisone. I try to subtly tug my hands away from her, but she squeezes them tighter to hold me in place.
“It wasn’t fair of me to demand another proposal from you when we were both upset.”
“You’re right.”
Her lips twitch down, as if she didn’t expect me to agree with her. She catches herself and rearranges her features into pleasant neutrality. “Maybe we’re not ready for marriage,” she concedes.
Especially since we broke up.
“But I would like to try again.”
I think about Euan. Liquor-soaked lips pressing against mine in an eager kiss. Casual touches exchanged between us, the sensation still lingering on my skin. Waking up beside him this morning, shy and nervous because I’d never jumped into bed with someone before. But also hopeful, because there was something about Euan that pulled me into his orbit. Not like I was a planet revolving around the sun, but like we could be two stars revolving around each other. And of course, I can’t forget the fact that we might befucking married.“Theresa, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“We’ll take it slower this time,” she declares, both asserting her desires and ‘assuring’ me at the same time. “No pressure to propose or marry anytime soon. We can figure out what we want and try a little harder to meet each other’s needs.”
