Page 88 of Hoax and Kisses
Marry him.He asked her tomarry him.
It was serious, then. I knew it must have been, considering the way everybody and their mother wear pitying looks when they mention her. But I didn’t think it wasthatserious. I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you serious.
I haven’t known Matt for a long time, but still, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d make rash decisions. But then again, maybe he used to be. And then Andie happened.
“You’re very silent,” he says, watching me from beneath furrowed brows.
“I’m sorry. I’m processing all this information.”
“Don’t apologize.” Once again, he’s angling himself over the table, cradling my hands in his. I like this way better. “Sometimes, when I look back on it, I’m surprised too. I never thought I’d bethatguy.”
“What guy?”
“The guy who’d be reckless enough to ask a girl he’s known for two minutes to marry him.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” I say, squeezing his fingers. “You went with your gut, and it felt right back then. Time holds no meaning when you love someone. It can be years or days; it doesn’t matter.”
I bite back a huff. Look at me rambling on love like I’ve got a PhD in romance. Like I’ve ever felt an ounce of what I’m describing.
His mouth quirks up slightly like he knows I’m full of shit.
That’s the miserable truth when it comes to my own life. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never witnessed it.
“My parents got married on a whim,” I explain. “My mom is from Quebec, but she met my dad while on a business trip to Vancouver. They had the most cliché meet-cute ever. Both were attending conferences in the same hotel on the same day. Him on hotel development, her on cancer patients.”
Matt raises a curious brow, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“She’s an oncology nurse. My father went into the wrong room, where my mother was giving a presentation on the emotional toll of chemo treatment on patients. He stayed until the end so he could buy her a drink after. The rest is history. Not even a year later, my mom was pregnant with me. She uprooted her whole life and moved to BC. They got married, they had me, and voilà.”
“That’s a sweet story. But I remember you saying they’re not together anymore, right?”
I shake my head, brushing my thumb over his. “They’re not. But I don’t think it has anything to do with how quickly they got married or because they stopped loving each other. They were happy, for the most part, but marriage takes time and effort, and I think my dad loved his legacy more than he ever loved my mom. And at some point, he wasn’t enough for her anymore.”
“Is that why you’re alone? You think you’re bound to repeat your father’s mistakes?”
Here he goes again, with questions that hit the bull’s-eye. “Not by choice, but in the end, it’s better this way. I’m not imposing this on anybody.”
Matt gives me a lazy smile. “It’s a job, Zoey. You’re not part of a cult and demanding others join in.”
“Kind of feels like one sometimes,” I mutter.
“You’re so dramatic.” He chuckles, but the sound dies quickly, his smile fading as his expression darkens. “If I’m honest, I don’t think what Andie and I had was remotely close to your parents’ relationship.”
“Why did you do it, then? Propose?” I gently rake my nails over the top of his hand.
His eyes flutter closed, and he inhales deeply.
“I don’t know. I guess because I believed her. It felt nice to…” He pauses, attention darting away for a second, like he’s tasting the word on his tongue. “Lean on someone. Allow her to share the weight I’ve been carrying by myself, the worries about my business, my parents, my sister. Andie was there. She listened to me. She was just as pissed when my mom took Daph to the movies, knowing she hates loud noises.” His shoulders dip as he gives a slow, weary shake. “Rubbed my back after I’d worked late another night, searching for ways to keep my business open after I closed my first year in significant debt. I felt lighter than I had in years. And I think…” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. I think, now that I’ve made it to the other side, I might have liked the feeling more than anything.”
Oranyone.
I hear the unspoken parts in the spaces between his words. Fragments of him are still scarred. Still healing. And if I wasn’t such a chickenshit myself, I would tell him that I wouldn’t mind being the one to mend his wounded pieces.
“Maybe she wasn’t ready for the commitment,” he adds. “But deep down, I don’t think she truly loved it here. She liked the idea of living in a slow-moving town, but after a while, it wasn’t what she imagined it’d be.”
He shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter that she quietly unraveled his heart when her rosy expectations didn’t meet reality.
I can’t help but loathe her for it. You don’t get carried away like that with so much on the line. You think it through.
