Page 101 of F*ck Marriage

A strangled sound issues from my throat and I’m tempted to cover my face with my hands.

“Oh no,” he says, seeing the look on my face.

I sit. I sink into the chair, my legs trapped by my dress which is tight around my thighs. If I was compelled to run, runaway bride style, I’d fall flat on my face as soon as I stood up.

“Woods…” I begin. “Why do you want to marry me ... again?” The hastily addedagainmakes him smile.

“Because we shouldn’t have gotten divorced in the first place.”

That prickles. I push out my bottom lip, blinking at him hard. “You cheated on me,” I say.

Woods looks momentarily flustered and then his face relaxes, but not without effort.

“Yes. Let me rephrase. I should have been faithful to you and then we never would have needed to get divorced.”

“You cheated on me because you were unhappy. You didn’t like the person I was.”

“That’s true,” he says. “But I like the person you are now.”

I blow air through my pursed lips. “That’s the thing, Woods, I don’t know if I’ll stay the same. I can’t promise that. I feel as if the person who can love me best is one who doesn’t mind when I try something new.”

“I can be that,” he says quickly.

I look at him doubtfully.

“Woods, you’ve been chewing Juicy Fruit for the last twenty years. You don’t like your world shaken.”

“What are you saying, Billie?”

“I’m asking if you really think we should be doing this?”

“Yes,” he says without pause. “Absolutely.”

I look up at him curiously. “Why?”

“Because we are each other’s first loves.”

I mull over his words. Nice words. Reassuring words ... and yet they do nothing to reassure me. People work their way back from cheating, it is entirely plausible that weweresupposed to be together. But we detoured, and now…

“It doesn’t feel right, Woods.” It’s the most honest thing I can say. I expect him to protest, but he just looks at me, waiting. “I’m not soft, and worshipful, and sweet. And I’m afraid that’s what you need. That’s what you’ve always needed. I don’t have confidence in myself to be that for you.”

“I’ll take you as you are, Billie. That’s what love is.”

“At what price?” I ask him. “How soon will I make you miserable again? How soon until you—”

“No. I’d never do that to you again.”

I sniff because I don’t know what to say—what to believe. How long until he makesmemiserable? When we were together I was always stuck between trying to make him happy and trying to make myself happy. Maybe it is selfish to think that way, but maybe the type of relationship exists where you could both be yourselves and make each other happy.

“Woods,” I say calmly. “I can’t marry you.”

He doesn’t look as surprised as I thought he would. It’s a relief to know that I haven’t caught him off guard and that he might have been feeling the same way.

He walks over and kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. “You’re it for me. I messed up and now this is where we are. I take responsibility for that. But I know you, Billie. You’re going to regret this the minute you walk out of here.”

I pull my hands out of his grasp.

“You don’t know me,” I say.

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