Chapter Nine Alex
I’ve barely stepped through my apartment door when the call comes in.
I curse under my breath as I check the name.
Sure enough, it’s Theresa. I was only half-serious when I used her as an excuse to spend more time with Euan.
Really, I just … wasn’t ready to leave yet.
Despite all the frustration this maybe-scam-maybe-real marriage has caused, I enjoyed working through the problem with him.
“Hello?”
“Alex,” she says with clear relief that surprises me. “You haven’t replied to my messages. It’s not like you.”
Because I always reply as soon as I see them. Today is probably the first time I’ve ever ignored her. “Sorry, I was busy.”
I wait for her to ask what I was busy doing on a Sunday, though I’m not sure how I’ll answer. Do I tell her about meeting someone at a bar last night? Jokingly proposing to him and accidentally going through with it? Spending the whole day with him?
But I don’t need to say anything because she doesn’t ask. “Can we talk?”
“We’re talking now.”
“You know what I mean, Alex.” Her tone is gentle but still a rebuke. “I’d like to talk in person.”
I’m too tired for this conversation, but I’m also too tired to argue with her. Still, I give it one last try, hoping she’ll back off without a fight for once. “Can we do this later? I’ve had a long day.”
“I’d rather do this now. Do you really want to go to work tomorrow with things still unresolved between us?”
I thought the breakup pretty much resolved everything.
But underneath Theresa’s usual stubbornness is genuine distress.
Maybe she’s the one who can’t get through the workday while the breakup is still on her mind.
At my job, if I’m distracted, the worst that can happen is approving an invoice or purchase request that doesn’t meet the qualifications.
Even then, there are support staff below me and upper management above me to double check my work.
If Theresa has an off day, her clients are the ones who suffer.
“Alright, come on over.” Before she can misinterpret the invitation, I add, “You can pick up your things while you’re here.
” I don’t ask her to return any of my things.
When I think of anything that might be at her place, all I can picture is a pair of lounge pants and a spare toothbrush.
I rarely spent the night at her apartment, while she spent any weekends she wasn’t working over at mine.
There are some of her clothes in my closet, skin care products spread out over my bathroom counter, shampoo and body wash on the shelf in my shower.
Half of them are things I’ve bought her to make her more comfortable here, and so she wouldn’t have to bring an overnight bag for every visit, but I don’t see any reason to keep them.
Theresa only acknowledges the first part. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She hangs up without waiting for me to reply.
I sigh and rub my hand down my face. Maybe it would be a good idea to call someone to act as a mediator. Theresa’s not the violent type—she spends all day arguing without once losing her composure—so I’m not afraid for my safety but more for my own backbone.
Yesterday, I was ready to marry her. Today, I’m dreading a single conversation with her.
Though I guess that means I wasn’t ready to marry her.
It’s not like my feelings changed overnight, just my own expectations.
I expected to marry her, so I proposed. Now the only thing I expect is an argument I probably can’t win.
I scroll through my phone, trying to think of who to call.
Mike? No, he’s got two kids, he can’t drop everything on Sunday to come play referee.
Jamie is an hour away, so that’s not helpful.
Every name I find has some sort of excuse.
It’d be inappropriate to call any of my subordinates and awkward to call my boss.
Some of my friends I’ve barely talked to all year, our lives too busy for more than a quick catch up and a ‘we should hang out soon’ that never happens.
God, I hadn’t realized how much I relied on Theresa for companionship.
Every night out, every event, every lazy weekend, who did I spend them with?
Theresa. Who did I text when I wanted to talk about work?
Theresa. Though I’d done that less and less as time went on.
I could only listen to the same advice about taking initiative and applying myself for so long.
My job isn’t bad; it just isn’t good enough.
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 have anything to 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 can hear her 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 her chest, 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 them felt special. 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 I felt.”
“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. It sounds like an apology but I’m not sure it is one. 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 be fucking 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.”
It sounds like she’s thoroughly plotted our path forward.
All of this would have been nice to hear yesterday.
Even with my thoughts still full of Euan, I waver.
I picture a future with Theresa where we listen to each other instead of trying to guess what the other person wants.
Maybe part of the problem is that I never told her my needs either.
If I tell her, and she still ignores them, we can always break up again.
Do I really know that this relationship can’t work if I don’t give it one last earnest try?
The real question is: do I even want to fix our relationship? If not, there’s no reason to waste either of our time. Right now, my head is too muddled and confused to decide either way. “I’ll think about it.”
For a moment, she seems shocked I didn’t immediately agree. Then she smiles with her lips but not her eyes. “Alright, it’s getting late.”
She finally releases my hands and it’s a relief not to be touching her any longer. Which probably does not bode well for any future relationship.
I follow her to the door and open it while she puts her heels back on. On her way out, she pauses next to me, an expectant smile on her lips. Usually, I can figure out what she wants, but this time I don’t have the energy to try. She’ll either have to tell me or leave disappointed.
When I don’t do anything, she leans forward and brushes her lips against mine. The kiss is light and fits against my mouth oddly: her lips too small, her skin too smooth without the scratchiness of a beard. It’s brief, over almost as soon as it begins, and she’s already pulling away from me.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” she promises with a little wave. Then she turns on her heel and strides down the hall, her business here finished.
I scrub at my lips in annoyance. I should have said something, told her off for kissing me when we aren’t officially back together yet. I’ll tell her tomorrow, I think, though I’m not sure I will.
Shit. I almost forgot that tomorrow I’m supposed to visit the County Clerk with Euan to figure out if the marriage is real. If it is real, I’ll have to explain the whole situation to Theresa.
Oh god, am I cheating on Euan with her? Or am I cheating on her with Euan? Technically, I’m not in a romantic relationship with either of them, yet I feel like I’m betraying them both.
Would it be weird to text Euan about this new development? I think about his breakup, how hurt he was that Nick texted him rather than talked about their issues in person. It’d be better to wait until tomorrow morning.
I just have to figure out how to explain this new development with my ex-girlfriend to my new husband.