“No. Not that. We didn’t do that.” I waved him off. “He had this whole romantic setup. When we got there, he had champagne and rose petals and candles all over. Everywhere.”
The levity returned to his eyes. “Ouch.”
“Yup. I got outta there. It really freaked me out. Because you know why?”
“Why?” he asked.
“He should know. He should know I wouldn’t like that, right? That means something, doesn’t it?”
His expression grew a little serious. “Yeah, it does.”
“Am I a bitch? I am, huh? That was really sweet, and I should have appreciated that. I am a bitch. I knew it.”
He chuckled. “No. You’re honest.” He shook his head and talked into his beer. “And he did it all wrong.”
I smirked. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He put his glass down. “Let me guess—the ring was huge. Big rock?”
“Oh my God, Josh, you don’t even know. It was enormous. He designed it and had it made. It had this red rope of rubies around the band and…” I took a deep breath remembering it. He’d spent a fortune on it and I’d hated it. It was so gaudy. “Why? What kind of ring should he have gotten me?”
“None. You’d want to pick your own ring. You’d probably say something like, ‘I’m the one who has to look at it for the next fifty years.’ I would have taken you to buy it instead of just springing it on you.”
“How do you know I wouldn’t like a ring sprung on me?” I said, narrowing my eyes.
He scoffed. “The only thing you like sprung on you are snacks. You have an opinion about everything. You’re also really practical. You’d probably pick something reasonable. No diamonds. I’m thinking an etched band. Nothing that would need to be repaired or cleaned or that you’d have to take off to do the dishes.” He regarded me for a moment. “Something personal engraved inside. Something only the two of you would get.”
He knows me. He knows me almost better than I know myself.
I had to press my lips together to keep my face straight. I changed the subject. “You know what I like about you, Josh?”
“My way with small, vicious dogs?”
I snorted. “I like that you don’t do that guy thing where you try and solve all my problems. Guys do that. Sometimes we just want to complain. That’s it. We don’t want advice. We just want you to listen. You’re a good listener.”
He fiddled with a coaster and his smile sank a little. “I would try and solve all your problems.” His eyes came back up to mine. “If you wanted me to.”
God, yes, I want you to. But you can’t and you never will.
The waitress delivered our wings.
“I’m double dipping,” I said, grabbing a celery stick. “If you can’t handle that, get your own ranch.”
“I think we’re slightly past that, don’t you?” He dunked a drumstick, took a bite, and then dunked it again. “So when does he need his answer by?”
I nibbled on the end of my celery, not looking directly at him. “He’s here for two weeks. So I guess before he leaves.”
He spoke to the basket of wings. “What are you leaning toward?”
Someone started singing “Push It.” “Josh! Let’s dance. Will you?”
If he knew I changed the subject on purpose, he didn’t let on. He wiped his hands with a napkin. “Sure.”
We walked out into the thin crowd of people in front of the stage and started to dance.
He hadn’t been kidding about having moves. He was as good on the floor as he was in bed. We danced for three songs, laughing the whole time.
Then someone started singing a really horrible rendition of John Legend’s “All of Me.” The woman singing it was even drunker than I was.
Josh and I looked at each other and wordlessly moved together. I wrapped my arm around his neck and he held my other hand over his heart. He was still a little out of breath, and his chest rose and fell against my palm.
I’m in love with you.
The impulse hit me so hard and fast, I didn’t even see it coming.
I’m so in love with you.
How easily this came to me. With Tyler, the question was murky and confusing. But with Josh, it was clear. I was in love with him. And I was in love with him in a “we were made for each other” kind of way.
But we weren’t though, right? Because how could I be made for him when my body couldn’t give him children?
My eyes started to tear up, and he dipped his head to look at me. “Hey, shhhh. I know what happened today was hard.”
He kissed my forehead, so tenderly, and I felt simultaneously better and worse.
I shook my head and buried my face in his chest. He didn’t have the first clue.
When I looked back up, his concerned face hovered over mine. I wanted to stand on my toes and kiss him. Or let him kiss me. I wanted him to be the one to ask me to marry him. If I could be with him, I’d say yes to him in a heartbeat, even if he did it in some cringey, cheesy way. Even if there were rose petals all over the fucking house.
God, wouldn’t we be something? If it wasn’t for that one thing. That one thing that was everything.
For a moment, in my drunken state, I thought I could tell him. I could just blurt out the truth about everything. Get it out of me, put it in his hands, let him figure out what to do with it. And then maybe it wouldn’t feel so heavy. Maybe he would be okay with it and he’d—
He’d what, Kristen? Settle? He’d give up his dreams for you?
“I’m so selfish,” I whispered.
He put his cheek to mine and spoke into my ear. “You’re not. You’re wonderful. And you look really beautiful tonight.”
I sniffed and tilted my head back to look him in the eye. “You know why I always looked like a slob around you? Because I liked you.”
He pulled his face back a little and his eyes went wide.
“Yeah. I felt guilty that I liked you so much when I had a boyfriend. So I always tried to look bad in front of you so you wouldn’t know.”
He beamed down on me. “So the mud mask and the curlers and that nose strip thing—”
“All proof of my enormous lady boner for you.”
My buzz made me careless.
And I couldn’t care less.
“Wow,” he said, looking reflective. “You must have really liked me. You didn’t brush your hair for two days in a row once.”
I launched into giggles and he laughed with me, putting his forehead to mine. “And I still thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.”