Chapter 32
“Can I talk to you guys quick?” Ford glanced over his shoulder to Charlotte’s retreating back before motioning for me, Kindra, Alex, and Meredith to follow him to the other room.
The party had gone off without a hitch. Meredith’s staff handled the food, while Alex and Erik set up the bar.
I’d ordered the tableware, linens, and flowers and arranged the food and beverage service.
It was perfect. The only thing bothering me was Jake’s absence.
Against my better judgment, I kept gazing at the door, hoping he’d show up.
“We’ve just got a couple minutes before she gets back, and I’ve got to ask you guys something.
” He shifted from side to side appearing anxious and not at all like a laid-back restauranteur riding high on the wave of his success.
“I know I should wait. I told her I’d wait until she proposed to me.
But honestly, I don’t want to—unless you all tell me I must. I don’t want to fuck this up.
” He dug around in his pocket, tugging with nervous hands to pull the ring box free.
Meredith let out a little squeal before clamping her hand over her mouth.
“I want to ask Charlotte to marry me. What do you think?”
He flipped open a box revealing what looked like at least a three-carat emerald-cut diamond ring in a platinum setting with bezels holding the long sides of the stone. It was clean and modern and looked so much like my friend; I found myself blinking back tears.
“Do it,” said Meredith with a sniffle. “She’ll say yes.”
He glanced at the rest of us, his gaze moving from one to another as we all nodded our agreement.
We knew Charlotte wanted to marry him, and given the choice, I think she’d prefer he’d be the one to ask.
Pushing aside the bullshit of traditional gender roles, there was something almost primal to this will you give me your hand thing.
“Okay.” He nodded as if ordering this new reality in his head. “I know public proposals are kind of bullshit, but I didn’t want to wait until we were alone on the island, especially if there’s a chance she’ll say no.
“She won’t,” I said, smiling at the way his words mirrored hers.
“I don’t think you should wait.” Alex met each of our gazes in turn, judging her answer. “Do it now. Let us celebrate with you before you whisk her away.”
“I think you should too.” I nodded my agreement as Meredith let out another squeal, this time not bothering to cover her mouth.
Kindra winced and stuck a finger in her ear, but she was nodding too.
Looking much less anxious than he had moments ago, Ford followed us back to the main part of the house and the rest of the party.
“There you are,” said Charlotte, hurrying to his side.
“Come on over here.” She took his hand and pulled him to stand in front of the giant windows overlooking their wooded backyard.
“Can I get everyone’s attention?” She stretched up on tiptoes, trying to make herself tall enough to see over the small crowd of people gathered to celebrate Ford. “I’d like to make a toast.”
I caught the eye of one of the servers I’d hired to help with the food and drinks and motioned for him to start pouring champagne into the waiting stemless flutes. I’d planned for a toast, not a proposal, but champagne worked for both.
“If you don’t mind, I want to go first.” He took both of her hands in his.
“I know you planned this party as a celebration for me, but you are the truly amazing one. I still can’t quite believe you agreed to run away with me for a month and leave work and everything behind, but I’m so glad you did.
I can’t imagine doing any of this without you.
I can’t imagine my life without you, Charlotte.
” He dropped to one knee in front of her, and a small, hopeful gasp went up from the gathered crowd.
Charlotte blinked furiously, and I knew she was fighting back tears.
“I want you to be the first person I see every morning and the last person I see every night. I want to build a life with you, because life without you isn’t something I’m willing to consider. Charlotte, will you…”
Before he could finish the question, Charlotte pressed a finger to his lips.
I think we all had a moment’s panic that we’d miscalculated, but then she dropped to her knees in front of him.
“I can’t imagine my life without you either.
I never thought I’d be able to trust in love and happily ever after.
Then I met you and your love is so solid.
So strong. And I can’t imagine anything else.
” She reached for his hands, and he pulled her fingers to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles.
Staring into each other’s eyes, they asked and then answered the question in unison.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
Still kneeling, they fell into each other’s arms, kissing and laughing as the room erupted into cheers.
The servers moved through the room, passing out champagne as Ford helped Charlotte to her feet.
He pulled her into his arms one more time, kissing her as if she was the air he needed to breathe.
And then he slipped the ring on her finger, and my divorce attorney friend, the one who’d been so sure she’d never take a chance on marriage, became a soon-to-be bride.
I watched as the happy couple kissed one more time, and the longing in my chest became almost palpable.
I wanted that. I wanted what they had—one person to love and who would love me for exactly who I was.
Someone I could build a life with. I fought the urge to glance at the doorway one more time on the off chance that Jake changed his mind and decided this thing between us was worth fighting for.
I hadn’t heard from him since he sent the picture of his dog, and by some miracle of self-control, I’d avoided sending another text.
I’d been clear about wanting to try dating even though I had no idea how it would work.
I was willing to try to find a way through things.
Together. I couldn’t do more than that, not and maintain my self-respect. He had to want it too.
While our friends rushed forward to congratulate Charlotte and Ford, I gave in to the urge and gazed at the entryway.
If life was like one of the romantic comedies Jake and I watched together, this was where the hero would show up to declare his undying love for the heroine.
But this wasn’t a movie, and I wasn’t a Hallmark heroine.
Suddenly needing more quiet than I could find in a room full of happy people, I grabbed my bag and headed for the library.
We’d used the room as a staging area for the party, and empty plastic catering tubs and boxes littered the floor.
The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with a mixture of romance novels, cookbooks, and travel memoirs.
Aside from the mess from the party, it looked like a perfect blend of Charlotte and Ford.
The whole house did. The ache that had never quite left returned in force, and I collapsed onto one of the plush armchairs.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what kind of books Jake had and if he put them back on the bookshelf or left them wherever he finished reading them.
His housekeeper would make sure they got put away eventually, but I didn’t remember him having bookshelves in his loft.
Maybe he was an e-reader kind of guy. Given his bend toward technology, that made sense.
Before I could travel further down the combining libraries rabbit hole, my phone vibrated.
The sound startled me, but it was the foolish leap that my heart took at the sound that I really needed to watch out for.
I pulled the phone out of my bag, repeating it’s not Jake like a litany against heartbreak.
I swiped the phone’s screen and bit back a twinge of disappointment at the text message from John.
J
Just got notice that the approvals all went through. Brilliant job. Couldn’t have done it without you. Be sure to take time to celebrate the win.
I held my finger over the screen while I ran through responses in my head.
Since our conversation at the gala, John kept things between us friendly and professional.
He’d been a consummate professional, the good—hell, maybe perfect—on paper guy.
For a moment, I imagined how easy it would be to form the kind of romantic partnership he’d offered.
I’d always know what was expected, and he’d do everything expected of him, exactly the way we both did with everything else in our lives.
Did it matter if it meant not really being seen?
I’d been matching expectations my whole life.
Chameleoning myself into the image whoever I was with had of me.
Shaping myself and my surroundings into something pleasing for others’ consumption.
It felt so comfortable at this point, it barely chafed anymore.
If it left a part of me—one I wasn’t prepared to look too closely at—feeling isolated and so alone, what did it matter?
We came into the world alone and left it alone.
The image of Ford and Charlotte, kneeling before each other, asking to join their lives together, filled the front of my mind, and my stupid traitorous eyes brimmed with tears.
I wanted that, someone who saw me—the real me—and who wanted every complicated bit.
Fuck it. I wanted a chance to get to know all those parts of myself too.
The messy, unattractive ones that made me who I was.
An interesting, challenging, complete person and not just some doll performing the steps I’d been programmed to do.
The ones I’d programmed for myself. Because if I was really going to embrace all the parts of myself, I had to acknowledge the expectations and rules I’d made for myself.
The public persona I projected even to my friends.
Admittedly to a smaller degree, but still.
Everyone deserved someone who saw and accepted the unpolished version of themselves.
I was going to have to start being that person for myself first. Then, maybe, if I was very lucky, I could find someone who could see me too and accept me for who I was, not what I added to their balance sheet.
The way Jake did.