Page 96 of If the Stars Align
She laughs. “That was a long time ago. Speaking of which…I feel like I owe you an apology.”
“Apology? For what?”
“For saying ‘I love you’ after we had sex,” she says, bringing her palm to her forehead. “I was young, and naïve. I didn’t even know what love was, yet. But I feel bad for putting you on the spot like that. And then, as soon as I got to college, I started dating someone else. I’m sorry.”
“Hey—don’t sweat it. Like you said, it was a long time ago.”
“Thanks,” she says with a sheepish grin. “It feels good to get that off my chest, though. So…are we really doing this?”
I smile. “It’s up to you. The offer’s out there.”
She flips her hair again. “And it stays casual, right? No strings attached? No feelings?”
I nod. “Casual is really all I can do for now.”
She puts her hand on my knee. “Then let’s get out of here.”
Ilet my briefcase fall to the floor and breathe a sigh of relief.
Kicking off the Louboutin heels Jeremy bought for my birthday in March, I grin the moment my bare feet hit the floor. Then I toss my tailored suit jacket onto his leather armchair. Well, I suppose it’s my chair now too. My lease ended three weeks ago, and I’ve officially moved in.
I take my gaze toward the kitchen. I can’t remember the last time I ate today. At this point, I’ll just wait until Jeremy gets home, and we order dinner. I’m far too exhausted to make myself anything.
It’s only Monday, and this workweek iskillingme.
But come to think of it, every week feels like this.
I’ve been an associate at this firm two years now, and I’ve come to dread every single thing about my job. The court hearings where my stomach is in knots. The contentious calls from opposing counsel that give me an instant migraine. The endless stream of research and writing assignments that forceme to skip lunch. The unwelcome knocks at my door from partners who insist I cancel plans becauseevery fucking thing has to be done right away.
The worst part is, I’m scared to tell my own fiancé how miserable I am.
Because Jeremy is very invested in this dream of us both being high-powered attorneys. And when things don’t go his way, he’s pretty unpleasant to be around.
But after finally meeting his parents at their posh Manhattan brownstone a week ago, I honestly don’t think I can blame him for his mood swings. And now I understand why he’s put off introducing us the last three months since our engagement.
Jeremy’s parents arecold.
Neither of them cracked a smile the entire time we were there. I suppose that shouldn’t have surprised me, considering my fiancé is far from jovial himself, but at least Jeremy has a sense of humor. The first thing his dad said upon meeting me was that he was surprised his son had found someone who met his impossible standards. And he wasnotjoking. Then his mom lamented that it would have been nice to have a doctor in the family, presumably referring to Anjali.
When we gave them the perfectly nice bottle of cabernet we’d bought at Whole Foods, both parents eyed it skeptically and agreed to open something “good” from their wine cellar instead.
Over dinner, his mother made sure to let me know that the “gratuitously expensive” ring their son bought for me wasnotthe family heirloom she would have preferred me to wear. Then his father went on to tell me that, if Jeremy had putanyeffort at all into the four years he spent at Yale, he would have gotten into a much more impressive law school than the one we graduated from.
I was on the verge of tears and shell-shocked when we left. The moment we reached the bottom of the steps in front of their brownstone, Jeremy looked at me with the saddest eyes. I wrapped my arms around him, and kissed him, and told him how much I loved him. Then we walked quietly, hand-in-hand, to the Plaza. He’d insisted on booking a room there rather than stay with his parents—for obvious reasons.
Before we checked out of the hotel, he surprised me by telling me he’d put down a deposit for us to get married there exactly a year from now, in June 2008. I was shocked he booked it without talking to me first. I’ve always dreamed of a wedding in Beachwood.
Never mind that I always imagined getting married in the Dexters’ backyard.
But my mom’s house has nearly an acre of land that would be perfect for a reception as well. After the hard time Jeremy’s parents gave him over dinner, though, I figured the least I could do was let him pick the venue.
My heart aches for him. I can’t believethat’sthe home he grew up in.
Maybe, eventually, my love can help repair some of the damage his parents have done. He’ll feel secure. Happy. And I won’t have to walk on eggshells around him so much anymore.
That’s my hope, at least.
After replacing my oppressive silk blouse and woefullybinding pencil skirt with a soft tank and knit shorts, I head to the living room and plop down on the couch to call Sam. Although she’s still working toward her PhD in New York, we missed seeing her last weekend because she was visiting family in Berkeley.
