Phillip’s already gone to work. I’m being snoopy and trying to find any clue I can as to where we’re going on our honeymoon. He won’t tell me anything other than to bring bikinis. He’s been teasing me, telling me that we’re going to the North Pole. That it’s a new honeymoon hot spot. I search through his underwear drawer. That’s where he used to hide stuff when he was little.
I find a folded-up piece of paper and think, Ohhh, maybe this is something!
I unfold it and find Phillip’s counseling questionnaire. His neat handwriting is under each typed-out question.
I go grab my questionnaire to compare our answers. I’m pretty sure this is like our final exam.
The final exam that we have to pass.
I set his paper next to mine and read his answers. Please let them be exactly like mine.
What do you want out of your married life?
Me: To live happily ever after.
Phillip: A great, long relationship with the love of my life. To be happy and healthy, have a family.
Aww. Isn’t that cute? We’re perfectly adorable and well matched. I’m so glad I decided to peek. What’s next?
How are you different?
Me: We’re very different in pretty much every way. Phillip is controlled. I am wild. Phillip is methodical. I’m schizophrenic. Phillip is neat. I’m kinda messy. Phillip is an early bird. I’m not.
Phillip: We have different ways of thinking. I’m an introverted thinker. She speaks before she thinks.
Uh, I mean, yes, I know I do that, but the way he wrote it kinda sounds like a slam. I don’t think I like that answer. I fight the temptation to cross it out.
Where will you live? How did you decide to live there?
Me: We just bought an amazing house in Kansas City, and we decided to live there because Phillip needed to move there for his job.
Phillip: We decided together that we would move to Kansas City, and we bought an amazing house. She’s really excited about it.
Yes, I am. But shouldn’t Phillip be saying that we’re very excited about it? Isn’t he excited about it?
Have you discussed how many children you want and when?
Me: Not really. I do want kids, but I don’t want them for at least 3–5 years. And we’ll have, like, 1, maybe 2 kids.
Phillip: We want them right away. And, like, 3, 4, maybe 5 kids.
WTF? Five kids! RIGHT AWAY! Is he nuts? We NEVER discussed that!
What do you do when you spend quality time together?
Me: We have sex. Oh, no, I can’t write that. Cross that out. We jog together, watch football, hang out, stuff like that. I really do like hanging out with Phillip. We have fun together.
Phillip: We do everything together. We work out together, and we love sports, going out, and hanging out with friends. She has always been my best friend.
What will you do if you have a disagreement?
Me: Honestly, I will probably pout until I get my way. And, if that doesn’t work, I will be mad and ignore him until he caves. It’s worked well in the past.
Phillip: We’ll openly discuss it. We really don’t have many disagreements though. She does get mad at me sometimes, but I can usually talk her out of it.
He can talk me out of being mad? He’s never talked me out of being mad! Who does he think he’s marrying?
Do you ever hide from your true feelings? Do you ever use the silent treatment, lie, blame each other, or stop talking to each other?
Me: Yes, to pretty much all of the above.
Phillip: No, I’m very open with my feelings. At least, Jadyn always knows what I’m feeling. And she tells me everything.
Oh, boy. We’re in big trouble.
What went wrong with your longest relationship?
Me: He decided to marry someone else.
Phillip: She was jealous of my relationship with Jadyn.
Describe your courtship.
Me: We spent a week hanging out, got engaged on our first real date, and have been living together and dating, I guess, since. Actually, we’ve only had a few real dates. So, maybe we didn’t have a courtship? Or we had the longest courtship known to man.
Phillip: Basically, we’ve been best friends forever and been in love with each other for a very long time. We just were afraid to make the jump from friends to a relationship. When we finally did, there seemed like no reason to wait. Our courtship has been amazing.
I swear, he’s delirious. We didn’t really have a courtship. No late-night make-out sessions in front of my house; no, Should I let him come in?; no wondering if he was going to call again; no, How far should I let him go without him thinking I’m a slut?
How did I miss out on our amazing courtship?
How will you make major decisions together?
Me: Talk about it, I would imagine. Kinda like we did about moving to KC.
Phillip: Talk about it together. Over wine.
In other words, get Jadyn tipsy, and she’ll agree to just about any crazy idea.
Is it easy for you to talk about your feelings?
Me: I used to tell Phillip everything. Now, I can’t. I’m afraid he wouldn’t like me anymore if he knew what I was thinking.
Phillip: We talk about everything.
Uh, wrong.
I can’t read anymore. I wad the questionnaires into a ball and throw them in my bag.
It’s clear. We’re failing couples counseling.
I go to work and am surprisingly productive. I just finished up the rest of my preliminary drawings and am feeling really good about them. Going to the museum and letting off a little steam must’ve been just what I needed.
I check my emails and see one from Amy. She wants to know what our first dance song will be.
But Phillip and I don’t have a song!
Apparently, when you don’t have a courtship, you also don’t have a song.
Sure, there are lots of songs that remind me of him. The song we all danced to like maniacs at his house whenever it came on the radio. The song that was playing in the car the night of my parents’ accident. The song we danced to when he was my mercy date for winter formal. Songs from summers by Danny’s pool. But they’re not songs you’d want to play as your first dance. I don’t think anyone wants to see us dropping what our mamas gave us or having us get low, low, low. Pretty much all the songs we love are more like dance and party type songs.
Then, I remember that movie, The Wedding Planner, and how the wedding planner could tell by the song a couple picked how long their marriage was going to last. How crucial the first dance song was to the success of a marriage.
I picture the dream. My dad telling me that we were moving too fast. I think he might be right. Phillip and I are moving very fast.
We’re talking warp speed.
If we were on a Starfleet spacecraft, we’d have gone into hyperspace by now.
We got engaged on our first date.
We bought a house.
We’ve only been dating for four months.
And we don’t have a song.
I don’t need a wedding planner or a pastor to tell me …
We’re doomed.
And I don’t wanna be doomed with Phillip.
I need Phillip, like I seriously need him, but maybe we need to slow down.
Maybe we should postpone the wedding.
No, calm down. It’s just cold feet. Every bride feels this way. It said so on the bridal websites. It’s normal to feel this way.
You love him.
It doesn’t matter that your wedding guests almost got eaten by crocodiles. It doesn’t matter that God turned you into a burning bush. It doesn’t matter that you answered all the pastor’s questions wrong. It doesn’t matter that you solve conflicts with sex. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a song.
You love Phillip. That’s all that matters.
Everything will be fine.
It’s a freaking song. It’s not a barometer of your relationship.
I’ll text Phillip, and we’ll figure out a song. No big deal.
Me: Just realized we don’t have a song. Like, a first-wedding-dance-appropriate song.
I’m just getting on the phone when Phillip sneaks up behind me and kisses my neck.
“Phillip, you’re distracting me. I’m working hard here.”
He chuckles. “You just sent me a text about wedding songs. I have a feeling your mind isn’t completely on your work.”
“Actually, it is. I’m ready to show you my designs. They’re still rough, but they’re all in very different directions. I need to set up a meeting with your dad, but I thought maybe you could look at them, tell me what you think. Like, if you think he’ll like them or if you have suggestions or whatever.”
“Sure, I’d love to see them.”
I move off my chair and spread my big sketchbook out in front of him. Phillip flips through the pages. He goes back and flips through them again. He has an odd look on his face. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like any of them.
He finally says in an extremely shocked voice, “Princess, these are, like … really good.”
I know he said good. He might have even said really good, but what I keep seeing is that shocked look on his face.
Why is Phillip shocked? He hired me, wanted me to do this, and now, he’s shocked?
WTF?
He shouldn’t be shocked. If he hired me because he thought I could do it, he would expect them to be good.
And then it hits me. Why he really hired me.
“OH MY GOSH, PHILLIP! I was a pity hire? You didn’t think I was talented; you just hired me, so I would move to Kansas City with you?”
I can’t tell you how pissed I am.
No, scratch that. I’m not pissed.
I’m really hurt.
I feel like I just got the wind knocked out of me.
“What? No, I just—”
“Why are you acting shocked that they’re good then? If you’d hired me for real, you’d have expected them to be good.”
“I did expect them to be good, but …”
No way. I saw the look on his face. I saw his shocked expression. I know exactly what he was thinking.
“Never mind, Phillip. I don’t wanna hear it. Here, take these.” I shove the plans into his hands while I fight back tears. “If you want, you can use them when you hire someone else.”
“Hire someone else? Why would we do that?”
“Because I’ll be damned if I’m your pity hire. Some stupid family member you carry along in the business because you don’t think they can make it on their own. Well, screw that. I quit.”
I grab my purse and march out of the office and to my car.
I put the key in the ignition and realize I should probably call Phillip’s dad. Regardless of why they hired me, yelling, “Well, screw that. I quit,” is not very professional.
“JJ,” he answers. “How’s it going?”
“Um, not great. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate the opportunity, but I’m afraid I have to quit. Well, I just quit.”
“You quit? Why?”
“No offense, but I want to work someplace where people believe I’m talented and creative, not because I’m marrying the boss’s son.”
“Are you in your office? I’d like to talk to you about this in person.”
“I’m in my car. I told Phillip I quit, and I was getting ready to leave, but I thought I should tell you first.”
“I’m not letting you quit until we talk in person. Come to my office and bring what you’ve worked on so far.”
“I don’t want Phillip in the meeting.”
“Fine,” he says and hangs up.
I take a deep breath.
Okay, so I’ll go back in there, take him my drawings, and officially quit.
My phone buzzes.
It’s Phillip.
The only reason I answer is because I’m on my way back in there. “Hey,” I say coldly.
“Hey,” he says back.
“What do you want?”
“What do I want?”
“Yeah, why did you call me?”
“Because you just quit on me!”
“Yes, Phillip, I quit, and I’m on my way back to your office to get my drawings, so I can give them to your dad. Then, you can all move on and hire someone who has talent.”
“Jadyn, you have talent.”
“I know that I do, but you don’t!” I say,
I walk in the office, grab my papers out of his hands, and leave.
He follows me down the hall. “You need to stop and listen to me.”
“No, thanks. I’ve heard enough.” I try not to, but when I look at Phillip, I get tears in my eyes because, honestly, what Phillip did hurts.
I was willing to overlook all the warning signs. I was willing to believe it was just cold feet, that it didn’t mean anything, but this I can’t overlook. I totally anticipated, foresaw, and predicted the BOOM, but I didn’t really expect it to happen so soon.
Or in this way.
I walk into his dad’s office and shut the door in Phillip’s face.
Of course, he’s stubborn. He opens the door and walks in like he owns the freaking place.
“Phillip,” his dad says, “I would like to speak with JJ privately.”
“Dad,” Phillip says with pleading in his voice, kinda like he used to when he was younger and wanted to do something that his dad didn’t think was a good idea.
“I’ll come talk to you when JJ and I are through,” he replies in the tone dads get when you’d better not argue.
Phillip looks at me. He looks at me angrily.
My eyes are kinda full of tears. I swallow, put on my game face, and turn to face Mr. Mac.
Mr. Mac gently says to me, “So, why do you want to quit? Did you and Phillip have a fight?”
“No, sir. I quit because I was hired under false pretenses.”
“How so?”
“Well, I believe I was only hired because of Phillip, not because of my skills, my talent.”
“And why would you think that?”
“Because I just showed Phillip a few of the ideas, and he was surprised they were good.”
“And it upset you that he thought they were good?”
“No, I’m upset that he was surprised they were good. If you had hired someone else, you would’ve looked at their portfolio, known what they were capable of, and been upset if their work wasn’t good. I don’t want a job like this. I know I haven’t been working all that long, but at the job I left, at least I felt valued. I can’t work like this.”
And, quite honestly, I’m pretty sure it’s a deal-breaker for the whole relationship.
But I don’t say that. A few tears leak out of the corners of my eyes, but I quickly brush them away.
He gets a resigned look on his face and gets up. “Well, I disagree with you. You’re right; Phillip is one of the reasons we hired you but not the only reason.” He grabs a bunch of rolled-up plans that were standing in the corner next to his credenza, takes them to his conference table, and unrolls them. “Come look at these. I’ve built this business from the ground floor up. It’s been my dream to have a facility that’s exactly how I want it.”
I quickly flip through them and see that none of these plans look like Mr. Mac. I don’t know if that makes sense because how could a building look like a person? But I suppose it’s kinda like when you walk into someone’s house, how they have it decorated—the colors that they’ve chosen and stuff—and it looks like them.
Mr. Mac is sort of a style contradiction. He loves rich, classic things. A bottle of good wine. A nice cigar. You could picture him sitting in an old library, surrounded by rich, dark colors and lots of leather-bound books. But, at the same time, he’s still young—I mean, for an old guy—and kinda hip. His clothes are expensive, but they always have a flair to them. He drives a luxury-brand car, but the model is a sleek black sports car.
I look at the drawings other people have done and can see why he hasn’t built any of these buildings. They just aren’t him.
“It looks like you spent a lot of money on plans. Why haven’t you used any of these?”
“Why do you think?”
“Because they all suck,” I say a little too bluntly.
“Exactly. That’s one thing I love about you, JJ. You’re just like your dad was. You always cut to the chase and tell us exactly what you’re thinking. So, why do you think they all suck?”
“Well, I probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s not really that they suck; they just … they don’t look like you, like something you would like.”
“And that’s exactly why I haven’t. I don’t like any of them. It’s frustrating to me because I have a vision of how I want it to be, but I can’t explain it, evidently because none of these are it.”
“I can see that. Like, this one is way too modern for you. And, in this one, they went the complete opposite direction and made it, like, too boring and stuffy.”
“So, can I see some of your ideas?”
I want to show him my favorite idea. The building I drew is modern, but it has architectural elements that are classic. It’s a building that feels like my wedding dress. Timeless. I want to show him the pictures I sketched of the inside. The cherry wood walls have insets of stainless steel, which give it a sleek, modern edge. The interior colors are dark and rich, like a men’s club. The entry lounge has oversized contemporary wingback chairs covered in charcoal pinstripe velvet. The artwork is modern with bright colors. I have no idea if he will like it, but at the time, it felt right.
Just like things with Phillip used to feel right.
I can’t stay here any longer. I’m going to cry. I lay my favorites on his table and run out the door. I run into my office. I need to compose myself before I go running out of the building like an idiot.
I lean my back against the closed door. When I open my eyes, I realize I’m not alone. Phillip’s sitting at his desk.
“Princess, why did you quit? What’s this really about? I saw our questionnaires in your bag. Is that why you’re so upset?”
“You went through my bag?” That should piss me off, but I feel like I have no emotions. I feel empty because I know there’s nothing else I can do.
“No, they were sitting on top, wadded up. I saw my handwriting.”
I sigh, look at my adorable Phillip, and tell him the sad truth, “Phillip, we’re not gonna make it. We’re failing couples counseling. We handle our conflicts with sex. We don’t agree on money. I’m sorry, but I totally tricked you into buying the house. I planted seeds and got Mr. Diamond to gift us the money, and I tricked you. I have a sucky past. There’s baggage there that even you don’t know about. I pout to get my way. I probably do have abandonment issues. And I read our questionnaires, Phillip. We don’t agree on anything. And, really, I probably could’ve gotten through that all. I could’ve pretended we were gonna be okay. But you didn’t rescue me from the spider, I found out I was a pity hire, and we don’t have a song.” I take the ring off my finger and gently lay it on his desk. “I hope we can stay friends.”
I run to my car, get in, and drive away.
I end up at our old elementary school. I sit in the car and stare at the swings.
I have that same sort of numb feeling I had after my parents died.
Probably because that’s what just happened.
Our relationship died.
Can it be revived? Can they shock my heart? Will it ever work again? Or is it fatal?
It must be fatal because I didn’t let Phillip try to resuscitate us.
Really, I’m not even sure what all I’m thinking.
Maybe I should drive to Kansas City and talk to Lori. Have her hug me and tell me I’m going to be okay. Break out the chocolate ice cream. And wine. Large amounts of wine. Or margaritas.
Speaking of margaritas, I’m gonna have to return my shower gifts. Most of them I haven’t unboxed yet, but I’ve already used the Margaritaville blender twice.
All of a sudden, the blender seems so important.
If I give it back, it will all be real.
I’m gonna say it now. I hate when people say this because it seems so depressing, but here it is.
FML.
Maybe it was just a matter of time.
Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be happy.
It’s like someone’s played a cruel trick on me.
Give her a taste of real happiness, let her know what it feels like, and then snatch it all away.
Or maybe I’m an idiot, and he wasn’t the right guy, wasn’t the one. In that case, maybe I should be grateful that this all happened now, before we were married, before we had kids.
But it doesn’t feel that way.
I mean, the whole wedding, the venue, the way it fell into place. I really felt like it was a good sign, that I was finally, for once in my life, choosing the right path, the right guy, my prince, my happily ever after.
But I’m thinking fairy tales are bullshit right about now. They should really make fairy tales more realistic.
Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’ll move to California and start a new life. I’ll rewrite fairy tales. I’ll make a fairy-tale reality show. A behind-the-castle look at Cinderella and Prince Charming’s lives.
I think we’d all take wicked pleasure in seeing Cinderella scream, “Asshole,” at Charming, and then, in a fit of rage, she chucked her glass slipper at his head. Hopefully, it’s made from, like, bulletproof glass, so it doesn’t shatter and rain glass down on Charming’s head and, like, disfigure him or anything. Oh, but if it did, we could change it to a Beauty and the Beast sort of thing.
Until now, nothing like that has ever happened between Phillip and me, but I did hear recently about a couple I know—cough, Katie and Eric—who was having a bridal shower. She had cleaned her house for three days straight because she wanted everything to be perfect. And, after totally getting all the food, decorations, and games ready, she walked into their sparkling and spotlessly clean bathroom three minutes before the guests were due to arrive to take a quick pee, only to discover her Prince Charming’s dirty underwear was lying on the floor. She might or might not have thrown those dirty underwear at his head and yelled a few obscenities. She also said that it was the last straw. That he didn’t respect her.
What about the dude who wrote all the fairy tales? Can you imagine being his wife? I’d be willing to bet she chucked a frying pan or two at him when he was sitting there day after day, writing about love and little pigs while he hadn’t taken the trash out for three days in a row.
Maybe fairy tales don’t exist.
Really, I probably couldn’t write the show anyway because I wouldn’t know the ending.
What would happen after she chucked the shoe at Charming?
Would he catch it, laugh at her, make her smile, and then lead her into the bedroom?
Would they have hot make-up sex?
Or what would happen if she and Charming failed couples counseling and didn’t have a song? What would Charming do after she set the shoe on the desk and ran out of the castle?
What would she do next?
Would she go back and live with the wicked stepsisters, be miserable, and live with mice and cats?
Would she end up marrying the guy who had guarded their castle and always had a crush on her?
Or would she move away from Neverland—no, wait, that was Peter Pan. Well, that’s it. Maybe she could move to Neverland and make Peter grow up.
And what would Charming do?
Would he go after her?
Would he try to get her back?
Would he have the birds spell out I Love You in the sky?
I have no idea.
What I really wanna do is call Phillip. He’s the person I always run to when I have a problem or need support or help.
But I can’t go to him about this.
I think about calling Danny. I adore Danny, I really do, but Danny is a fixer. It’s like he’s in a football huddle, and he’s trying to get around the defense. He’d make me tell him the problem, and then he’d figure out a way to fix it. He’d make me review the play-by-play. We’d break it down. We’d figure out what went wrong. He’d form a game plan for what to do next. He’d strategize about the best way for me to handle the problem, so I could overcome it and achieve my goal.
If I wanted to fix it, I would go to Danny.
If I wanted support, love, hugs, and sympathy, I would go to Phillip.
That means, I always went to Phillip first.
It’s starting to get dark. The school kids are long gone. I realize I’ve been sitting here for hours. I get out of my car, walk over, and sit on the swings.
I look down at the swing on my charm bracelet.
The bracelet that’s the story of our lives.
The story that’s over.
At the end of this story, it just says, THE END.
There is no, And they lived happily ever after.
The bracelet suddenly feels very heavy on my wrist. Like it’s trying to strangle me.
I have to get it off.
I slide open the clasp, take it off, hook it to the swing, and then go back to my car.
I’m not sure if I knew where I was going when I left the school, but I find myself at the entrance to the cemetery.
I haven’t been here since the funeral, but I know exactly where to go. The spot my parents are buried is burned forever in my mind.
I get out of the car, trudge through the snow, and stand in front of it.
I read the headstone that Phillip and I picked out, but I never came to see.
Beloved husband and father, Paul Michael Reynolds.
Beloved wife and mother, Veronica James Reynolds.
I drop down into the snow and cry. I cry all the tears I’ve been pushing back inside me since they died.
After crying and crying, I feel kinda refreshed in a weird way.
I start to think with a clearer head. I think Mr. D might have been right. I haven’t dealt with it. I thought I had to be strong for my parents to be proud of me. I thought if I didn’t let it show, it meant that I was coping. That I’d gotten over it.
I don’t think they would be very proud of me now.
They’d probably be embarrassed.
I’ve made a mockery of everything they taught me. I stood up at their funeral and told everyone about how they lived. About how they appreciated daily life. About how they cherished every day they had.
I haven’t done that.
I haven’t been smelling the roses. I’ve been using the roses as an excuse to do whatever I wanted. Sure, I’ve had fun, but I haven’t really appreciated the amazing things right in front of me. I haven’t stopped to smell the roses. I’ve been like a little girl riding by some roses on her bike. I’d take a whiff, and then I’d swat the petals off with my hand. I wasn’t appreciating their beauty.
I was destroying them.
I thought, since my parents weren’t here, that it was okay for me not to give a shit. That it was okay to pretend like I could do whatever I wanted because the world owed me something.
It doesn’t.
I think it’s up to me.
I reach out and trace my finger across their engraved names. Above their names is a pair of angel wings. Phillip found the design when we picked out the headstone. I trace over the wings, too.
My hand instinctively goes down to touch my hip.
I hate needles, but I went all by myself a few years ago and got a tattoo. Even though I’d never seen the headstone, I still had the rough drawing they’d made when I ordered it. I took the drawing and had the tattoo artist replicate the wings on my hip.
I didn’t tell anyone I had done it because I really wasn’t sure why I had done it. Eventually, Phillip and Danny saw it. The next day, they came home with matching angel wing tattoos on their ankles. I was so incredibly touched; I almost cried.
I think of Phillip.
Holding my hand in the hospital.
Holding my hand at the funeral.
Letting me sleep on his shoulder.
Taking me to the swings.
Always, always there for me.
I reach down to touch the cross charm on my wrist.
I panic.
My bracelet. It’s gone!
Of course it’s gone, you idiot. You left it on the swings.
I have to go get it.
“I have to go!” I say to the grave.
The short drive to the elementary school feels like it takes hours.
What was I thinking? Why did I leave it there? Some little kid’s going to take it in the morning and not appreciate all it means.
All it means.
All it means.
The phrase runs through my head over and over. I squeal my tires, turning into the parking lot. I cannot get there fast enough. I’m gonna get my bracelet, and then I’m gonna find Phillip.
I can’t let him go.
I don’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t care if we’re stupid. I don’t care that we’re failing a stupid class. I don’t care if it ends in divorce after six months.
I don’t care.
Pastor John was right that first day. I’ve been running away from Phillip every time things get tough. I always make him come running after me and make him rescue me. I’ve created drama on occasion just so he’d rescue me because I like it. It’s not fair to him.
Is that what my dad was trying to tell me in my dream? That Phillip and I never listened to anyone?
We didn’t listen when they told us that girls and boys shouldn’t be friends. We didn’t listen when people gave us shit about our friendship. We didn’t listen when the people we were dating threatened to leave us if we didn’t stop spending so much time together.
Our relationship has survived over twenty years because we didn’t listen to anyone.
Not even my dad.
I picture Phillip in the tree. How his arm stayed stretched out, his hand empty, long after my dad pulled me away.
Phillip has always fought harder for us than I have. It’s no wonder he’s tried to move so fast. He’s afraid I’m going to run. I don’t ever want Phillip to doubt my love. This time and from now on, I’m gonna run to him. I’m gonna fight for him. I’m so in love with him.
But, first, I have to get my bracelet.
I tear out of the car and race to the swings.
My bracelet is gone.
I look around, but I don’t see anyone.
What kind of kids would be out swinging after dark?
Shit.
Bad kids.
Katie and I used to sneak out of her house at night and smoke on these very swings.
Maybe it fell off.
I drop to my knees and frantically run my fingers across the dark, snowy dirt. I don’t feel it. I need some light. I need my phone. What did I do with my phone? I think I turned it off and threw it in the backseat.
I turn around and run straight into Phillip’s broad chest.
“You looking for this?” he says, holding up the bracelet.
Without even thinking, I hug him tightly with relief. I take in a big breath and am engulfed by Phillip’s scent. The scent that smells like home.
“Phillip, oh my God, you have it! I thought I’d lost it when I was here earlier!”
“Don’t act like you lost it. It didn’t fall off you. I found it hooked to the swing’s chain.” He gives me that look. The look you get when you get caught in a lie. “Where have you been? Why did you leave the bracelet here?”
“Because I thought we were over, Phillip. I couldn’t stand to look at it because it represented failure. My failure.”
“But you came back for it. Why?”
I get tears in my eyes. “Because it’s the story of our life.”
Phillip looks around. “And this is where it all began.”
I smile. “I know.”
“Is it gonna end here, too?”
“Phillip, we really need to talk.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound very promising.” He sighs big and sits on a swing.
“Why did you ask me to marry you on our first date?”
He grimaces. “However I say this, it’s gonna sound bad.”
“Just tell me.”
“We were finally together, something I’d wanted for a very long time. I felt like I had to move fast. Get engaged, get married, before you could change your mind. I know I’ve been pushing you. You kept trying to tell me how you were feeling. I avoided it. If you wanna back out, I understand. I just thought, if we could make it a few more weeks, we’d be married.”
“And I’d be stuck with you?”
“Yeah, maybe.” He looks at me with pleading eyes. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“I make you horny?” I give him a teeny smile.
“Jadyn.”
“I’m joking, but here’s the more important question, Phillip. Do you have any idea what you do to me? You seem to think it’s this one-sided thing. That you love me more than I love you just because you think you figured it out before I did. I know everyone thinks I’m oblivious. That I didn’t see it. But I knew. Remember when we were kids, and we’d stare up at the stars and think about how infinitely big the universe was and how small we felt in comparison? How it was, like, awe-inspiring?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s how I’ve felt about you all these years. When you asked me to marry you in fourth grade, I prayed that I would. When you told me you loved me after Spin the Bottle, I wanted to say, I love you, too. When we were in the chapel at the hospital, you told me you loved me again. I knew you meant it. When you took your shirt off in front of me, I would try so hard not to drool. Every night, when you answered your phone with, ‘Hey, Princess,’ I would melt. When you fell asleep, studying in my bed, I never woke you up because I loved waking up in your arms.
“I kinda hurt Danny’s feelings when I didn’t ask him to sit with me at the funeral. I lied and told him it was because I was confused about our relationship, but really, it was because there was no one else I wanted by my side but you.
“And I’m not dumb or oblivious, Phillip. I just felt so small in comparison to how big our love felt. I wasn’t ready for it yet. That day we first slept together, I thought I was ready. I thought I’d grown up, but I hadn’t. Since my parents died, I haven’t really cared about anything that much. Win. Lose. Succeed. Fail. It was all part of the adventure, all part of the game.
“With you, I care. I care so much.”
“Do you really feel that way?”
“Yes, I really do. Why did you come here, Phillip? To the playground?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last five hours besides calling you? I’ve been looking for you. Have you even checked your phone?”
I look down and shake my head. “I was crying, Phillip. I haven’t really let myself cry since the night of the funeral.” I look at him and bite my lip. I don’t even try to push back the tears. I don’t think I could stop them if I tried. “I went to their grave.”
His eyes get big. “You did? You said you were never going there.”
I clutch my hand to my chest. “I know. I think maybe I haven’t dealt with it, Phillip. I think I’m broken. I’ve been pretending I’m okay, but I’m not. It still hurts, and I cried. I cried a lot.”
Phillip chuckles and points to my face. “Um, I can kinda tell you’ve been crying.”
“Do I look like a raccoon?”
“Maybe just a little.” He pulls out a hankie and hands it to me. I wipe some of the mascara from my face. “You still look beautiful to me.”
“I think I cried all four years’ worth of the tears I’ve been holding inside me. I miss them, Phillip. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing them.”
He nods his head at me.
“We did a good job on the headstone. It turned out really nice.”
Phillip pulls me into his arms, the way he always does when I need him. “I know it did. I’ve been there a few times. You know, you don’t have to be strong with me.” I nod my head as he continues, “And I’m sorry. I’ve been looking for you because I need to tell you something. I knew you were gonna blow. I saw the signs that night in Lincoln. You told me about your cold feet, about settling, and about all your bad dreams. I knew you were getting scared, but I kept pushing you. I’ll wait. If you need more time, I’ll wait. We can postpone the wedding. I’m done pushing you.”
He gives me those eyes, those eyes that make me melt, that are like some sort of stealth ray that sneaks in and wipes out my defenses.
“Remember how I said you always know what I need?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“I needed a push, Phillip. I needed you to push me; otherwise, I wouldn’t have freaked. I needed to feel like we were over to know that there’s no way I’d ever let us be over. I never want us to be over, Phillip. Never, ever.” I give him a little smirk. “Although we’re clearly failing couples counseling.”
“Couples counseling was shit.”
“You told me I needed to take it seriously.”
“Maybe I was wrong.” He tilts his head. “You’re shivering.” He stands up, takes his coat off, and wraps it around me. Then, he leans his body into mine. “No wonder you’re shivering; you’re soaking wet.”
“I was maybe lying in the snow when I was crying.” I chuckle. I’m such a freaking loser.
He runs his warm hands inside my shirt to warm me up. I want to throw him into the snow and kiss him, but I can’t. We have to get through this first.
“So, I wrote down everything you said,” he tells me as he pulls out his phone.
I can see he’s typed a little list. Only Phillip would write down everything I jumbled out and write a rebuttal. I don’t even remember what all I said.
“But, first, I have to know. Did anything happen when you were in the back room with Bradley? Did you kiss?”
“No, Phillip. I couldn’t. He sort of leaned up against me, which should’ve felt familiar, but it felt all wrong. I think you’ve ruined me. I don’t think I could ever be with anyone else. I told Bradley, if you dumped me, I’d have to become a nun.”
Phillip laughs. It’s good to see him smile. “Okay, good. So, I made a pros and cons list.”
I laugh, too. “Like the one you made me in high school when you wanted to talk me out of sleeping with Jake?”
“Yep. And like the one I made when I decided to tell you how I felt about you.”
“You made a list for that? Can I see it?”
“Let’s stick to this list, okay? So, the pros. First one is that we solve our conflicts with sex.”
“Phillip, that’s supposed to be a bad thing.”
He flashes me that sexy grin. “Yeah, I know, but I respectfully disagree with Pastor John on that one.” He touches my cold cheek with his warm hand. “Next on the list is that you know how to manipulate me.”
“What? That should be a con, too. I’m not supposed to manipulate you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I love that you can. I love that sexy little pout. I love letting you think you got your way. You didn’t trick me into buying the house. I wanted it just as much as you did. I was being stubborn about the money part of it, trying to wear the pants. You knew what was best for us.”
“I hope the pants are on the cons list.”
He looks deep into my eyes. “Princess, there’s nothing on the cons list.” Then, he smiles at me and says, “Moving on. The next pro is that you have a past.”
I squint my eyes at him. “That makes no sense either.”
“You’re the single biggest part of my past. I love that. And the last pro is that we spend too much time together. I love that we do, so maybe that means we’re both a little screwed up.
“And that stupid questionnaire? So we answered the questions differently. So we haven’t figured it all out yet. We will. We’re different people, and we have different ways of thinking. We aren’t the same. We complement each other.”
“Two messed up halves that make one perfect whole?”
“Exactly,” he says.
“I wanna marry you, Phillip. I don’t care what anyone thinks. In fact, tomorrow, we’re going to our last couples counseling session, and we’re going to tell Pastor John his counseling sucks, we’re getting married, and he can kiss our asses.”
“We’re also going to burn those chairs. Do you not hate those stupid checkerboard chairs?”
I told you he could read my mind.
“I love you, Phillip. So, I’m in, like, if you still are.”
Phillip gets an excited look on his face. “Speaking of that, I’ve found us a song.”
“You can’t just find us any song. We have to have a song.”
He puts his finger up to my lips, shushing me, and then puts an earbud in my ear. He loads up a song on his phone. “This is a country song by Keith Urban. I know you don’t really like country, but just listen to it.”
As I listen to the song, my mind is transported back to Phillip’s spring formal.
He walked up to me, grabbed my hand, and led me out onto the dance floor.
He looked so incredibly handsome tonight. His broad shoulders in a black suit, the silver paisley tie he bought to perfectly match the silver dress he helped me pick out. The one he told me I looked so hot in that every guy in the room would be jealous of him.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him.
The song is slow, and we were barely moving, barely swaying.
My face is nuzzled into the corner of Phillip’s neck.
The spot where I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
The spot that I once kissed, trying to make another guy jealous.
The spot that I’m was dying to kiss right then.
OH MY GOSH!
I rip the earbud out of my ear.
“Phillip! Is this that song? That song we danced to at your formal? When you sang in my ear? Something about being a lover and a friend? Is this that song?”
Phillip grins at me. “Yeah, it is.”
The tears come rushing back, but these are different tears. These are happy tears. Our marriage isn’t going to fail. We’re going to be just fine.
“So, we already had a song?”
“Yeah, Princess, we already had a song.”
He puts an earbud in his ear and then one in mine. He restarts the song, pulls me into his arms, and dances with me. I cry happy tears through the song. All the words so sum up our relationship.
When the song is over, I wrap my hands around Phillip’s cheeks, look him straight in the eyes, and slowly kiss him.
A long, slow, amazing kiss.
The kind of kiss that feels like the stars.
The kind of kiss you want for infinity. Forget happily ever after. I’m going to be happy with Phillip for infinity.
“You know, I was going to bring you to this exact spot to ask you to marry me. Then, I felt like it wasn’t enough. Like it wasn’t big enough, like it wouldn’t impress you. I went way overboard. I’m gonna fix that. Do this right. The way I should have.” He drops down on one knee in front of me, takes my hand, and says, “Will you marry me, Princess?”
I drop to my knees and throw my arms around his neck. “The answer to that question is always going to be yes.”
