“But I want to marry you,” he whined, his eyes darting to the left.
“Then maybe you should take me to dinner first.” I held out the ring box, feeling a surge of pleasure at how well I was handling this situation. A year ago, I’d have been texting Jaime and Claire pictures of my engagement ring already.
He nodded glumly as he stuck the box back in his pocket. “Sure. OK.”
At the door, I handed him his umbrella and gave him an impulsive hug. I could appreciate how hard this had been for him—it wasn’t easy for a guy like Tripp to admit he was wrong and ask forgiveness. It showed maturity and growth, didn’t it? “Let’s talk again in a day or so, OK? I need to think.”
I opened the door and he left without saying anything else, opening his umbrella against the punishing rain. After snapping off the light, I moved into the living room and watched him get into his car from the big picture window. Rain cascaded in sheets down the pane, blurring his form. When I saw the headlights come on and then disappear into the rainy dark, I went back upstairs to bed.
Holy shit, I thought, sliding beneath the covers again. What a crazy turn of events. Never in a million years had I thought Tripp would come to my doorstep in the middle of the night, with a diamond ring, begging me to marry him. It was such a complete reversal of his mindset a year ago.
Part of me was mad that now he’d decided we were right for each other, but another part wondered if he’d just needed more time all along. Had I been wrong to pressure him when he wasn’t ready? Had I been too hasty to issue a “now or never” ultimatum? Had I been too insistent that we do things according to my timeline?
But dammit, we’d talked about everything! For three years, we’d fantasized together about the country club wedding, the center-entrance Colonial, the two kids, the sailboat, the King Charles Spaniel…it wasn’t just me who’d wanted all that. He had too.
And didn’t I still want it? Should I consider his offer? Annoying as it had been when he brought up my thirtieth birthday, he sort of had a point. My social circle was small, and I hadn’t met anyone I was even attracted to in a year—how much longer did I want to wait to start the next phase of my life? As Muffy was fond of telling me, Thurber women marry and have children by thirty, Gogo. Even the lesbians.
It wasn’t that I was unhappy. I had great friends, close family, a new job I loved, a beautiful place to live. So why did I feel like something was missing?
I was tired, but I lay awake for a while, playing with the fourth finger of my left hand.
Two
Margot
“You’re kidding me.” Jaime paused with her dirty martini halfway to her mouth. Claire seemed just as shocked, but took an extra gulp of her cocktail.
“Not kidding.” I shook my head and smiled.
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Jaime demanded. “I saw you this morning at the office and you didn’t say anything about it!”
Jaime and I worked together at Shine PR, the marketing and public relations company we’d started together last year. Her degrees in psychology and marketing and her experience in advertising paired well with my experience in PR and social connections, and our little startup was a big success so far. We’d already hired an assistant to manage social media for several clients and planned to hire another by next year. “Because we were busy this morning, and you were with clients all afternoon. I figured I’d tell you both here tonight.”
“Well, I’m glad you waited,” Claire said from the other side of Jaime. It was our weekly Wednesday Girls Night Out, and we were at the Buhl Bar, a little earlier than usual since I had to attend a fundraiser for my father later on. “Now that you guys work together and see each other every day,” Claire went on, “I fear I’m missing half the life gossip. So he actually proposed?”
I nodded. “On bended knee, with an exquisite diamond ring.”
“What a surprise!” squealed Claire.
“What a dipshit,” said Jaime. “I hope you told him to stick that ring where the sun don’t shine.”
I sipped my gin martini and replied with careful consideration. “I did nothing of the sort. I was kind and understanding, and I let him down easy.”
“Why?” Jaime continued to gape at me with wide blue eyes. “He was such an asshole in the end.”
“Because I have manners. Yes, he was an asshole,” I admitted, “but he copped to it. Said he was sorry and basically begged to have me back. He said a lot of nice things, actually.”
Jaime’s stare made me uncomfortable, and I focused on my drink. She knew me too well. That’s the problem when you’ve been best friends with someone since the ninth grade—even for someone like me, usually an expert at concealing how I feel, that friend sees through you.
“Well, it’s nice that he finally realized what he had,” offered Claire, eternal optimist. “Even if it is a little too late.”
“Is it too late?” I braved, giving voice to the question that had been on my mind all day.
It was silent as they both registered what I’d said. “What do you mean?” Jaime’s tone said I know what you mean but you can’t actually mean that.
“I mean, do you think it’s too late for us?”
“Fuck yes, I do.” She banged a fist on the bar, and the surface of my drink rippled.
“Well, hold on. Maybe not,” Claire said wistfully. “I love a good second chance romance.”