9. Back To Reality
Back To Reality
The problem with reality is that it doesn't care whether you're ready for it. It arrives anyway. By Monday morning, I was back at work, reshelving books and pretending my life hadn't completely unraveled over a long weekend. The pretending part was exhausting.
"Jennifer?"
I looked up. One of my student aides pointed at the book in my hands.
"You're holding that upside down."
I blinked. The book was, in fact, upside down. "Testing you."
The teenager nodded. "Sure." Then walked away.
The rest of the day wasn't much better. Every quiet moment brought me back to Tyler.
His laugh.
His smile.
The beach.
The goodbye.
By five o'clock, I was emotionally drained.
Unfortunately, I had dinner plans with Mark.
* * *
I changed clothes three times before leaving my apartment, which should have been a warning sign. People excited to see their fiancé didn't stare at their closet, wondering why nothing felt right.
My phone buzzed.
MARK
Looking forward to tonight.
A familiar ache settled in my chest because he meant it.
Every text, plan, promise, Mark was completely all in. The problem was that I wasn't sure I was anymore.
Mark greeted me at the door with a kiss. "Missed you."
"Missed you too." The words came easily.
The guilt followed immediately.
Over dinner, Mark talked about wedding venues, flowers, guest lists, and cake tastings.
The words floated around me without really landing. They felt like plans for someone else's future. Not mine.
Halfway through dinner, Mark finally noticed. "Okay."
I looked up. "What?"
"Something's wrong."
I sighed.
Mark leaned forward. "Talk to me."
I stared into my wine glass, then finally said the one thing I could. "I'm feeling rushed."
Silence.
I expected an argument. Instead, Mark nodded. "Okay."
I blinked. "Okay?"
"If you need more time, we'll take more time." His hand covered mine. "We can postpone the wedding."
The answer was perfect. Yet instead of relief... I felt disappointment. The realization hit like a punch.
What is wrong with you?
Because Mark deserved better than uncertainty.
Better than half-truths.
Better than this.
* * *
When I got home, Claire was already waiting. "How'd it go?"
I dropped onto the couch. "Bad."
"Bad bad?"
"No."
"Medium bad?"
I sighed. "Emotionally complicated bad."
Claire nodded, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did.
After a moment, I cleared my throat. "He offered to postpone the wedding."
Claire froze. "Oh."
"Exactly."
Because a good man would do that. A kind man. A man who loved me. which somehow made everything worse.
I covered my face. "What kind of person feels disappointed by that?"
Claire was quiet for a moment. Then softly said, "The kind who already knows the answer."
The words landed hard. Because deep down... Maybe I did.
Maybe my problem wasn't Tyler.
Maybe my problem was the truth.
My future with Mark looked safe and comfortable, and somewhere along the way, I'd confused that with love.
I wasn't afraid of losing Mark. I was afraid of hurting him. And those weren't the same thing.
Three days later, Mark called. "I have a surprise."
Immediately suspicious. "What kind of surprise?"
"The good kind."
That did not help at all.
"Mark."
He laughed. "Just you and Claire come over tomorrow night."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"No hints?"
"Nope."
I sighed. "You're impossible."
"I know."
Before hanging up, he added, "Trust me."
The words lingered after the call ended.
Trust me.
Funny.
Lately, trusting myself seemed to be the bigger problem.
The next evening, Claire and I pulled into Mark's driveway. The house looked the same; like Mark, it was warm and cozy. Yet an uneasy feeling sat heavily in my stomach.
"You okay?" Claire asked.
I laughed nervously.
"You look like you're heading to a parole hearing."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
She linked her arm through mine as we walked to the front door. Before we could knock, it opened.
Mark appeared smiling. "There you are." He kissed my cheek and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "I'm glad you came."
Something about the statement felt odd. Before I could ask why, he guided us inside. The smell of dinner drifted from the kitchen. Everything looked normal. Everything felt normal. And somehow that made me even more nervous.
"I can't wait for you to see this."
There it was again. The mystery. The excitement. The surprise.
Mark practically bounced as he led us toward the living room.
Claire shot me a look.
I shrugged.
No idea.
We rounded the corner.
A man stood near the fireplace.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair.
Back turned.
Something inside me stopped.
The man turned.
And the world disappeared.
Tyler.
My breath caught.
Across the room, Tyler froze.
The glass in his hand nearly slipped. His eyes locked onto mine.
Beside me, Claire went completely rigid. "Oh, my." The whisper escaped before she could stop it.
Mark frowned. "What?"
Nobody answered. Nobody could. Tyler looked like he'd seen a ghost, and I was pretty sure I looked the same.
Mark laughed awkwardly, completely oblivious, then gestured proudly toward Tyler. "Jennifer. Claire." His grin widened. "I'd like you to meet my son, Tyler. He's agreed to be my best man."
Silence.
Mark looked between the three of us, confused.
Tyler looked physically ill.
Claire had a big-ass smirk.
And all I could think was, Oh no. This is very, very bad.