The Après-Ski Proposal
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
December 10th
That night was the night; that I was sure of. My boyfriend of fourteen months, Theo McCain, was going to propose. My big 30 th was the next day, but that night, he told me he was coming by for something very important, and there was only one thing that could mean.
I’d been praying for that day since we had met: the day my charming prince would ask me to be his wife. Knowing Theo, a world-class ski jumper, we’d have a mountain top elopement. He’d be wearing a black tuxedo and I, a long, dramatic billowing white gown. We’d trek up there in a bright, red gondola, sipping fizzy drinks and talking excitedly about our future together. The only thing that remained to fulfill my fantasy was the ring and with the Lord’s blessing, I would soon get it.
After scouring my closet for just the right look, I settled on a raspberry silk blouse tucked into black jeans. Theo was a formal dresser, being out in the public eye and had been heavily influencing my closet over the past year. Before him, you could have caught me strictly in baggy clothes on weekends—no zippers or tight waistlines. In contrast, I felt like I’d just stepped off a private plane.
While I’d been hinting at it for months, Theo hadn’t taken the bait but would just smile when I spoke of it. He wasn’t the type of guy who gushed at his dreams or plans to take over the world, but I had been fine with that and adapted to his personality. There was nothing I wanted more in life than a family of my own—a happy home full of love with beautiful children, darling pets, and a handsome husband. And I wanted that husband to be Theo.
Theo was a gem, and I couldn’t wait to see him step into the role of husband and father. Since losing his own parents at a young age and being raised by his grandparents, family was even higher on his list of priorities. I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky with that man who was not just charming, talented and drop-dead-gorgeous, but also a man who wanted a family as much as I did.
I styled my strawberry blonde hair perfectly with a gentle curl, half up. Theo had always been complimentary of that style, often gushing over how nice it looked, so I knew to do it for such a special occasion like that day. My makeup was dramatic, though it was only four in the afternoon. I opted for a dark, sparkly eyeshadow and coordinating raspberry lipstick. But nothing was as perfect as my nails were; thank goodness, I got in for a last-minute manicure that morning. I swooned at the thought of Theo taking my hand in his at any moment.
For the ring itself, I didn’t care one bit what it looked like. Even if it was made of tinfoil, I would have still said “yes” and worn it for the rest of my life. Theo was a little more fashion forward than I was, often sporting the best brands that I’d never heard of through his sponsorships or influencer deals, but I didn’t know what that meant for a ring. During our shopping trips or strolls throughout town, we often walked past the jewelry stores, and he entertained my looking in the windows. While diamonds were undeniably beautiful, I saw the ring as a symbol of love and commitment; I told him repeatedly I needed nothing flashy. A simple band was all that I needed.
The truth was, we’d talked about our future so frequently, or at least I had brought it up, that it felt surreal since things were finally happening. I felt ecstatic as I considered the ways he might propose. Would he take me somewhere? Would he do it right there in my condo with the view of the mountains behind us? Would we snuggle on the couch in excitement as he recounted what my father had said when he asked him for my hand?
I thought of my parents whom I hadn’t heard from in a few days. Theo had asked their permission, right? My mother’s inability to keep a secret if her life depended on it made it surprising that she could keep that from me. As someone who didn’t like surprises, I would have preferred to know if it wasn’t so obvious, that was.
When the knock came, I barely contained my excitement. I put on my best smile and opened the door. His face made my heart drop. He didn’t greet me with joy, happiness, or even kindness; in fact, he looked downright miserable .
If I was honest with myself, he had been miserable often lately, but his moods were quick to pass, and I never let them affect me. I was just happy to be with him even if he was constantly away, off competing in championships or training. I never asked for much, and I had learned expectations were better left behind. Early on, I decided I would always let Theo come to me, never being needy or demanding anything from him, because his schedule was already so strained with obligations. I didn’t want our relationship to feel like another task for him. And it worked swimmingly that far, so why did he look like that at that time?
“H-hey, Theo.” His body language was stiff, standoffish. When I stepped out of the doorway, signaling for him to enter, he lingered in the hallway for a moment too long, like whatever he wanted to do, he thought he may stay out there. I took a deep breath and held it in. Nerves are to be expected when making a life altering decision , I told myself. But my excitement at the events I thought would happen that evening quickly began dwindling, and a pit in my stomach took its place .
When he finally entered my condo, he didn’t remove his shiny blue designer coat. The paranoia he had about getting a tear or stain on that thing was laughable but made sense considering he wore it as part of a sponsorship deal that he had with the company. Even if Theo got into a vehicle, he removed it first, holding it in his lap to protect it. That told me one thing: He wasn’t planning on staying very long.
After standing for at least several minutes, Theo paced. While I was never usually the first to speak, having adapted to his very calculated and aloof personality, I couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s up? What’s wrong ?”
“SkySki in Canada has given me the opportunity to be represented by their company for the entire season. It’s my dream come true.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh, okay.” I digested his announcement while still searching for the downside. “That’s great news, Theo! Congratulations.” I tried to picture how that would work, being away from him for… weeks? Months? The ski season lasted until April in some regions. With no vacation time left, it appeared I would have to choose to follow him or keep my job. “So, work is a little rocky right now, but I’ll try to work out a way to come see you. ”
“No, Claire. I’m leaving, and I…” He trailed off, appearing to have some stitch of emotion wash over him, if only for a moment. He pointed to me and back to himself with his finger as he spit out the words, “I want to end things with us.”
“What?” I released a laugh because it seemed so absurd. We had been perfectly in love for fourteen months and yet… Hadn’t we? And yet he was… breaking up with me? I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Look, I’m sorry, but it’s not just this tour in Canada that changes things for me. I’ve thought about this for a long time. We want different things, Claire. I’m the adventurous type. You’re more of a homebody. I want to be up at dawn summiting a mountain and… Well, you don’t even like to ski.”
It was true. I wasn’t a skier. Though I grew up in the shadow of my father, Mac Riley, arguably the most famous downhill skier of all time, I never formally gave skiing a chance, and then I felt like I’d missed my window of opportunity—like I was too old to start. So, when I met Theo and he knew who my dad was, he just assumed not only was I also a talented skier, but that I craved time on the slopes as much as he and my dad did. Theo idolized my father in a way that, at first, I found flattering. But as time went on, the comparison between my father and me only added strain on our relationship. Still, things had been progressing wonderfully with Theo, and I never in a million years saw that coming.
“But we can like different things, Theo. I support you on your adventures, don’t I? Who’s in the front row cheering you on whenever I can? I’m at every one of your jumps that I can get to. I’ve never complained when you’ve gone out for extended periods of time. I have always patiently waited for you to return. It’s been fine. I can put up with it, Theo. We are independent people. I can love you from a distance. I want you to follow your dreams in Canada with SkySki. It’s my dream come true, if your dreams come true. We can lead different lives.”
He looked away, his eyes focused on the view of the mountains from my condo’s living room window. It had a fantastic shot of Superstition Peak, the most beautiful slope on Sage Mountain Resort because of its double tipped mountain, shaped like a small “V” at the top. Skiers from all over the world had traveled there over the years to get a picture at its summit. Before Sage Mountain Resort became a world-class ski destination, there used to be a small wooden shack at the bottom of the lift that sold t-shirts that said, “I Skied the V.”
Still with his back to me, Theo shook his head as if he knew I was watching him, but then again, everyone always did. Even without his superstar status, he was a sight for sore eyes. Everyone looked his way, even platonically. Some people are so good looking that the rest of us feel we are merely in their orbit. It was true with Theo. Being with him made me feel like I was the lucky one, the reminder of which made me panic.
“Can’t we be different? We could have our own lives and separate interests and meet in the middle.” I felt myself pleading with him then, and desperation wasn’t a good look on anyone.
“I want a partner who will do the things that I love… with me.” His words were sad. Dried up. Tired. I felt myself breaking down, not just at the realization that this was over, but at how it was happening. He had reached the end in his mind, and his heart; that, I could feel.
“I don’t want to be a ski-jumper. I’m afraid of heights and skiing…” I took a breath, examining hopes and dreams fo r my life, and now watching as they were slipping through my hands like water. “It just isn’t my forte. I don’t feel comfortable with it. I’ve been around it my whole life and I still can’t pick it up. And honestly, I’m feeling a little sick and tired of snow and cold weather.” I let out a laugh as a desperate plea to lighten the mood, but I was raising my voice and moving my arms wildly, which helped nothing.
We went skiing together… less than a handful of times, that was. I never left the bunny hill, and he expected me to be on the Double Black Diamonds by the time of the Last Chair, so it never ended well to say the least. There was too much pressure to ski with Theo; with anyone, really, because of who my dad was. Any slip-up or public knowledge that I was incapable of staying upright on skis was a slap in the face to anyone watching, because I had to face it—my father was an Olympian skier. My boyfriend, now ex-, was a champion ski-jumper and moving on epically with one of the top skiing brands in the world. I was the farthest thing from it.
“I just can’t do this, Claire. It’s over for me.”
He pulled his eyes away from the window and looked back at me. Shrugging his shoulders, he immediately went to the hallway closet and pulled out a small moving box that I didn’t recall being there before. We didn’t live together, but since he was gone so much on his mountain adventures, it had been my idea to bring a few of his things over so that I could keep him at the top of my mind. And at first, when everything was new and exciting, it was just what he wanted to hear. He must have brought the box with him last week when he came over with takeout; I recalled all the Chinese food being in a large box, just like that. It pained me to think he’d been planning that at all.
“Did you plan this?” I was so blindsided, my words changed to accusatory.
“Look, I feel sad too. But I have made up my mind. We just aren’t clicking, Claire. I wanted this to work with every fiber of my being. To be a part of your family for the last year was a dream come true. Your father is my hero, after all. Believe me, I loved you, but—.”
A phrase followed by “but” is void in my book. I also felt the past tense of love break my chest in two. He stopped arguing and mechanically removed the few items from the shelf and placed them in the box: pictures of his childhood pets, trinkets from his travels, and his childhood skiing trophies .
“Is there someone else?” My mind couldn’t fathom that someone I loved would leave me.
He sighed, not answering immediately, which furthered the stress of that scenario. “Yes.”
My heart sank. Suddenly, his face twisted in anguish, like he, too, was on the verge of tears.
“By that I mean my love for my sport.”
His words came out softer, kinder than I’d ever heard from him, but I didn’t know if I believed him. That whole thing felt like a setup, as if one of those hidden camera television shows could burst in from the hallway any minute and inform me that I’d just been pranked—except for one thing: the man who stood before me wouldn’t do that to me. He might have wanted to end things, break my heart and leave the shattered pieces for the birds to peck at, but he wasn’t a mean person.
I opened my mouth for a rebuttal but went weak. There was nowhere I could grasp from there to hold on to, and we both knew it. “I thought this was it—that we would get married and have children. I thought you were coming to propose to me.”
Theo shrugged, and I knew at one time—no matter how short that time had been—he thought so, too. But after fourteen months of dating, he learned who I was and who I wasn’t.
“Claire, come on.” He set the box down. “Have children? And what, stay at home when I want to take them up in the mountains? To wait at the base lodge while they take their first runs? I want to instill a love for the outdoors in my children and this—you and me? Our relationship isn’t one of partnership. We don’t share our life’s passion. We just aren’t right. And we both deserve someone who’s right for us, Claire.” He picked the box back up and went to the door.
His words stung, and soon the waterworks flowed freely from my eyes. I felt like such a fool crying in front of that man who had chosen to leave me. I’d accepted all his faults—and there had been many—because our love was greater than that. And I thought it was mutual. Clearly, I thought wrong.
“Please, let’s talk about this. I mean, really? Tomorrow is my big thirty.” I couldn’t believe the words out of my mouth. Was I… begging him? Guilting him for dumping me the night before my thirtieth birthday, arguably the most important birthday I’ve had to date? One of the most important birthdays in a woman’s life? I put my head in my ha nds as he left without another word, shutting the door softly behind him as if closing the door normally might have awoken the fiery beast inside of me that just wanted to scream.