22. Ophie
Ophie
Sticking my head in the freezer not only sends a wave of deliciously cold air over my face and shoulders but also helps to keep in check the tears threatening to escape. Damn Philip for ruining what should have been an exciting moment.
Also, why don’t I have any ice cream? I could have sworn I had some stashed in here for emergencies. And I am pretty sure that my best friend, my husband, not being immediately happy for me when I get the job offer of a lifetime counts as an emergency.
Goddammit, I bet Maggie and Kel ate it. I refuse to follow that train of thought any further and step back, closing the freezer door. Instead of diving into a creamy tub of feel-good, I pour myself a glass of water. Unsatisfying, but better than nothing.
My fingers shake as I set the glass down, an involuntary whimper accompanying the breath I blow out with it. I won’t cry. I won’t. Even though every part of me wants to run outside after him, I refuse to.
After three years of staying stubbornly single, I’ve been in a real relationship for forty-eight hours and am already tempted to give up everything in order to make a man feel better about himself. Two years as my best friend, and I really thought I knew Philip better than that, thought he would never ask me to mold myself to him.
Maybe I was wrong.
When he hasn’t come back after five minutes, the realization that this is one of those rare times he’s not going to bounce back immediately settles over me. Fuck.
Fighting the churning feeling inside me, I snuggle into the couch and flip on the TV. Picking up my phone, I start scrolling through the dozens of messages. It only takes reading the first few texts to reassure myself that the only emergency is that my family has figured out I actually don’t have it all together, and maybe I’m more like Maggie than they realized.
Instead of responding, I toss my phone down so I can pretend everything is fine. I’m well into being distracted by a trash reality show with Love in the title when the front door bursts open. Heart pounding, I stay put, staring at the large bouquet of flowers, half dozen balloons, and heavy grocery bag in Philip’s arms.
“I am so sorry, liefling” are the first words out of his mouth. His hair is standing up on end, the opposite of his drooping shoulders and sad expression. “I am so proud of you and want to hear all about the job.”
I haven’t moved from the couch, my legs still tucked up beneath me, a pillow crushed to my stomach, as he stands there, chest heaving like he’s run a marathon. “What made you change your mind?” A reciprocal apology is fighting its way out of me, but I clamp my teeth and keep it inside. This isn’t about who was right or wrong. It’s about me knowing my husband is going to celebrate my success without seeing it as an attack on his.
Philip sets the grocery bag down and crosses to the couch, laying the flowers on the coffee table in front of me. “It took about a minute of me acting like a baby to realize that you weren’t threatening to leave me behind.” He rubs a hand to the back of his neck, whistling under his breath. “You hadn’t even said you were going to take the job, I just assumed. And you know what happens when you assume.”
At the reminder of our favorite professor’s favorite saying, a tiny smile cracks my lips. “This time, I think it only made an ass of you, babe.”
Gently, he takes the pillow away from me, then pulls me into his lap. The forgotten balloons bounce against the low ceiling, dangling strings in our faces. I flap at them, sputtering as they tickle my nose, until Philip snags them and coaxes the balloons away from us.
“Liefling. Can you forgive me for being a baboon? I want to hear all about the job and how badass my wife is going to be.” He plants a kiss on my forehead as I settle into his arms.
“God, it’s so hard to stay mad at you.”
“I was hoping you would say that.”
Not ready to give in yet, I kick at the bag on the floor before looking at him with a question in my eyes. “What’s in the bag?”
“Ice cream.” He kisses my temple. “Sour gummies.” My cheek. “Chocolate.” His lips meet the corner of my mouth. “String cheese.” His lips press into mine as I grin against the kiss.
Pinching his chin, I pull back so I can study his face. “What flavor ice cream?”
He smirks back. “Spumoni.”
Slithering off his lap, I snag the bag off the floor before taking it to the kitchen. “You really do know the way to buy my forgiveness.” I pull out a bowl and the ice cream scoop. When I look over, he’s watching me with hopeful eyes. “None for you. I’m not sharing my bribe.”
He laughs while I dish out a generous serving, then bring it and myself back to the couch. He makes to pull me back onto his lap, but I sidestep and settle in the chair beside him. “You’ll steal a bite.”
Holding up his hands, he laughs before gesturing for me to speak. Between bites, I fill him in on Penny Zimmerman and her company and the very well-paid position she just offered me. He asks thoughtful questions and cheers for me at all the right moments, breaking down the last bit of resentment I’d been harboring.
“If the benefits package is everything she promised, you’d be crazy not to take this job,” he says as I finish. “When did she say she would email it?” He looks so lonely over there on the couch, and an irresistible pull draws me to him.
I settle beside him, sighing as his arm drops over my shoulder to pull me close. “By the end of the week. You really think I should take it? You’re not just saying that because we got in a fight about it?”
Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear so he can press a kiss to the side of my head, he chuckles. “Obviously, I think you should wait for the official offer and see what it says, but yeah. I’ll go anywhere you go. Heck, I’ll be your stay-at-home husband if it’s generous enough. I could be a lady who lunches.”
“Speaking of ladies who lunch.” I dig my phone out from beneath my calves. “Want to know the damage?” With a sigh, I swipe open my phone. “Seven missed calls from Maggie, one from Daisy, and three from my mother.”
Philip groans. “And how many texts?”
I pull up my messages. “Too many. From all of them. Even Kel.” Sighing, I snuggle back into the crook of his arm on the couch. “Maybe we only read the highlights?”
He leans over to kiss the top of my head. “Just the highlights.”
I scan the screen. Should I start with the individual texts from my family or the group chat that’s still going? I tap Maggie’s, since she’s the instigator of all of this, and start reading out loud.
“Ophie, why did Kel just ask me how long you and Philip have been sleeping together? And why is this news to me?” Further down the page, another message catches my eye. “‘Have you been together this whole time and none of us noticed?’ Oh, here’s another good one. ‘Is it the accent? It’s the accent, isn’t it? It makes him sound so proper, even when he’s talking complete bullshit.’”
Philip laughs at that one. “Does it?”
“It does.” I poke his side. “Americans are suckers for an English accent, and yours is particularly nice to listen to.”
Her next text has heat running up my cheeks, but I don’t share it with Philip.
Mags: Does he talk dirty to you in that accent? I bet that is so hot. I don’t actually want an answer to that one because I don’t want to think of my future brother-in-law having sex with my sister, but still. It’s hot, isn’t it?
Mags: OMG, is that where you’ve been going when Kel and I are at the house? To have sex with him?
Mags: OMG, is that WHY you’ve been going??????? Do I make loud sex noises?!?!?!?
Mags: Well, Kel is now rolling on the floor laughing (literally) because he said that’s how he put two and two together. Nate said we’re both loud?!?! I am MORTIFIED!
Mags: Do you think Daisy is loud too? Is it a Moore sister thing? What a weird thing for us all to have in common. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep a straight face the next time I see Daisy. The visual in my head…make it stop!
Mags: This is all your fault. I have to go bleach my brain now.
“I wonder if being loud during sex is a matter of nature vs. nurture?” Philip laughs, his chin digging into my shoulder as he reads Maggie’s messages. “Or maybe it’s just because all three of you jabber like a bunch of baboons.”
“Hmph. You talk way more than I do. And that is the last time we are ever going to talk about how much noise my sisters and I make during sex.” I lock my screen and shove my phone underneath the throw pillows beside me. “It’s probably better than what Daisy and my mom are going to say.”
I lean my head against Philip’s chest, taking a moment to focus on the sound of his heart beating beneath my ear. It’s slow and steady. Dependable. Philip may love a good joke and never take anything seriously, but the one thing he has always been is dependable.
“What does your family think?” Anything to delay the moment of judgment by a few more minutes. “Did you already tell them?”
Philip hands me his phone, the screen unlocked, to show me the WhatsApp conversation between his family.
Nicola: Does this mean Mum and I are going to be slightly less outnumbered? Can’t wait to welcome her officially.
Jono: Poor girl. Does she know what she’s got herself into?
Mum: When can we meet her in person? Does this mean you’re going to come visit soon?
Dad: Can’t say I’m surprised, but congratulations, son. Hopefully she’s a bit more sensible than you.
“Is it bad that I’m annoyed at your dad’s attitude? I’m not sure what’s worse—my family thinking I’ve lost my mind or yours not being surprised at all that you’d do something like this?” Bolstered by my anger, I release my phone from time out and unlock it.
Philip puts a hand over mine before I can read anything. “My family loves me. Do they think I’m flighty and unserious? Absolutely—it’s also true. But I know that they would do anything for me if I asked, so I don’t mind the ribbing.”
He presses a kiss to the side of my head, and a warm fuzzy works its way down my spine, easing the tension knotting my stomach. “Your family loves you too. You’ve always acted with a high standard of having your shit together. Are they going to be surprised? I’m sure. Will they question your sanity? Very likely. But it won’t make them love you any less, liefling.”
“I still can’t believe I never asked you what that word meant before.”
“For the last year and a half, I’ve been waiting for you to ask. Or look it up on your own and show up ready to disabuse me of my fantasy.”
“Pretty sure I’ve been living on a river in Egypt.”
Philip scrunches his face, groaning. “That was so bad.”
I bend at the waist, awkwardly trying to bow from my position beside him on the couch. “I’ll be here all week, ladies and gentlemen.” I slither to the floor, phone still in hand. “Ready?”
Daisy: You didn’t seriously MARRY Philip, did you? What were you thinking? Are you even thinking about your future? Did you get knocked up? You know there’s other options than marrying him, right?
Mom: This is very unexpected, Ophelia. Are you sure that’s a good idea?
Trust Daisy to be the one who makes me feel the worst. I should have expected no less, but my mom’s message is less judgmental than I expected, and her follow-up message makes me feel even better about the whole thing.
Mom: Philip is really a lovely young man, though. Maybe more of a flibbertigibbet than I would have picked for you. But if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you, sweetie. Maybe we can have a small reception or something?
“We’re a pair of dummies, aren’t we?” Philip leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re not angry with me?”
I shake my head ever so slightly. “No, dummy, I forgave you the second you walked in the door with my favorite ice cream flavor. I’m just not looking forward to the deluge of questions we’re about to face.” Now I pull back, meeting his eyes once more. “You ready, Mr. Moore?”
He grins. “Technically, not Mr. Moore. But yeah. Let’s do it.”