Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
She sips her almond milk latte and crosses the room to set the container on the breakfast table.
The room seemed big when we got here, but now it feels small. Like there isn't enough space for everything in my head and my heart.
"It is so like you to have a one-night stand and get married." She settles into the chair at the table.
I move toward her. "Is that what Daphne said?"
"She didn't say much, but I put some pieces together. The ring is a bit of a giveaway."
I don't have a smart comeback. I don't want a smart comeback. Only the truth. "She wanted some space."
It's all I can think to say.
People are always speechless in love songs and on TV. I never understood it. It seemed like another affect, another Hollywood idea of love.
I always know what to say.
When I don't, I stop and think and figure it out.
Right now, I can't think enough, but I'm thinking too much. Words don't hit the message. There's something I can't put into coherent sentences.
Something I can't explain with logic.
Is that love?
How could I love someone I've been with for a single night? Even if I've known her a long time. Even if I've known her all my life.
Does love even matter?
Marriage is about commitment. Marriage is about compromise.
Marriage is about a life together.
Cassie interrupts my train of thought. "Are you okay?"
I shake my head.
She nods understanding, accepting the answer, not pushing. "I've been there."
She pauses, leaving me room to expand or shrink back to put up walls or take them down.
When I don't say anything, she asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"
I meet her at the table and sit across from her.
From here, we can only see the desert. The big blue sky. The bright lemon sun, the miles and miles of dirt and dust.
And the cacti Cassie adores.
It's just like her to love prickly drought-resistant plants.
Or is that a joke about her sex life?
No, I'm not going there.
She follows my gaze and smiles at the sight of an especially large cactus. "They are beautiful."
"Barren like your heart," I offer.
She laughs. "I think I'm supposed to make that joke. Only I can't now that you're a married man." Her eyes go to my left hand. "Or should I not joke about it?"
No. It feels good to laugh at it. Well, to hear her laugh at it. It makes me think I'll laugh at it one day. "You can joke about it."
"Good. It's funny," she says. "I mean, who else goes to get a lap dance and comes back with a wedding band?"
I guess Zack told her that. She's right. It's absurd. Ironic.
Something I'll laugh at in a few years.
As a story Daphne and I tell our kids.
Or one I tell my coworkers.
One that seals my fate.
"It seems like she doesn't remember." It nearly breaks my heart to say it. To think it. Which is strange. No one has ever broken my heart before.
I've left women, and women have left me. I've missed partners the way I missed an old sport, a favorite tea, a restaurant.
I felt the lack, but I didn't lose a part of myself.
"Maybe she doesn't," Cassie says.
I take a long sip of the iced tea. It's weak and strong at the same time. Astringent yet lacking flavor.
Mediocre, like most coffee shop tea.
Still, the caffeine helps. And the average quality is familiar. I need that now.
Something stable.
That's another irony. Looking for stability because my decision to marry introduced too much chaos to my life.
That's why people marry. Why I always planned to marry.
To have someone I can count on, something steady.
But maybe that's an illusion. Maybe that's a mirage.
How do you ever really know you can count on someone?
People change, walk away, divorce.
Marriage is a legal contract, yes. I can enforce community property, but there's no way to force someone to love me, care for me, want to stay in my life forever.
I stare at the desert, willing the desolate landscape to answer my questions.
Cassie sits with me. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"
I take another sip. "It's not a long story." Not the parts I'd share with her. "We were playing truth or dare. A way to see which of us is more fun."
Cassie raises a brow. "Do I want to know?"
"Do you want to know about my sex life?" I ask.
"No," she says. "But I've already heard too many details. You know I ran into Maddie a few times. Right?"
I did not know that. I shake my head.
Cassie continues, "She let it slip that you have an interesting appreciation of ties. I guess she wanted to know what to buy for your birthday." She tries to imitate Maddie's steady, matter-of-fact way of speaking. "Would Jackson rather see a black tie or a teal tie around my wrists? What about gold? That suits him." She shudders in distaste. "There were some vivid mental images. I almost forgot them. And gold is not your color."