Page 13 of Until Next Summer

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Twenty minutes later, after a perfunctory roll in the hay (he came, I didn’t), I’m restless. The walls in my apartment feel like they’re closing in around me, so I slip out to the balcony for some air while Aaron showers.

This has always been my plan, I remind myself. Engaged by thirty, married by thirty-one, pregnant by thirty-two.

But is it still what I want? And is Aaron the man I want it with? Or is this all one big game of musical chairs and he’s the one I’m left with when the music stops?

“Hey, babe,” Aaron says, coming out onto the balcony behind me and sliding his arms around my waist. I lean back into him, desperately trying to feel something. What if the problem isn’t him or us, but me?

“I know you still have a lot to do tonight, to pack,” hesays, and I blink. Does he sound nervous? “But there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

My heart gallops in my chest. This is it. The big question. Yes or No. Maybe? Is there room for a maybe? If I say no, does that mean we’re over? I’ll have lost two years of my life—my plan will officially be off the rails. But if I say yes, does that mean this is as good as it gets?

Aaron shifts so he’s beside me, but he doesn’t look at me. I follow his gaze, staring out at the Chicago skyline, the city lights so bright you can’t see the stars.

“Like you said,” he begins. “Eight weeks is a long time.”

I didn’t say that, but I keep my mouth shut, wishing I could manipulate time, fast-forward past this conversation or rewind back two years to when my dad said he wanted to set me up with a promising lawyer at his firm. Or farther, back ten years to when I made the decision to follow my dad’s plan instead of my heart.

“Even your dad said a man has needs,” Aaron is saying.

My entire body goes stiff—my dad said no such thing, and this is a weird way to start a marriage proposal.

“So I was thinking,” Aaron concludes, “maybe we take a break this summer.”

I bark out a laugh. Here I am, trying to convince myself I should marry this man, and he wants to take a break? Dazed, I walk away from the railing and sit on the ironically named love seat. Aaron sits beside me and tries to take my hands in his, but I brush them away.

“Listen, I meant what I said earlier. I want forever with you, but…”

“But?” I echo.

“But since you’ll be goneallsummer, and I’ll be here…”

I don’t remind him that I invited him to come out for one of the weeklong sessions so he could see this place that means so much to me. Again, I got the excuse of what a “busy time” this is for the firm.

He’s still talking, and I force myself to pay attention.

“I thought we could treat this summer like one last hurrah. It wouldn’t be anything serious,” he says, as if that matters. “Just a little fun, taking care of, you know…”

“Your needs?” I don’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I’m not angry—I’m annoyed. At myself, because I didn’t see this coming, and at Aaron for going so far off script.

Aaron doesn’t pick up on my tone. “Exactly,” he says, relaxing back into the sofa. “I’m so glad you see the logic in this.”

“So, let me get this straight,” I say, trying to push past the sting of rejection and focus on his so-called logic. “You’ll get a free pass to sleep with whoever you want over the next two months?”

“I’ll wear a condom every time,” Aaron says earnestly.

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” He looks genuinely confused.

“If you’re sleeping around, I assume it’s okay for me to do the same?”

Aaron laughs, stopping only when he sees I’m not amused. “I mean, if you want, but, well…you know.” I narrow my eyes, keeping my mouth shut. “It’s just, well, you aren’t really the type.”

“The type to have sex?” I cross my arms over my chest, not sure if I should be amused or offended at this, coming from the man I’m sleeping with.

“No,” Aaron says, trying to take my hand again. “I didn’t mean that. I meant, well, the type to just have fun.”

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