Page 33 of The Wedding Planner's Manny
Feeling just a bit awkward, I shrugged. “I have weird hobbies,” I admitted, even though I didn't really want to tell Ethan what they were. My husband hadn't approved of them. Why would Ethan?
Because he's different from Jeremiah,I reminded myself.
Wasn't that the whole reason I couldn't let go of this silly crush I had?
“What sort of weird hobbies?” Ethan asked, predictably.
“Well, for one, I like to read Wikipedia pages for fun,” I made myself say as I took a seat at the kitchen island, opposite Ethan. “I also collect marbles... or I used to, anyway.”
“Used to?”
“My husband didn't like them,” I explained. “So I gave them away. You could say I've lost my marbles,” I tried to joke, even though the day I gave my collection away had been a sad day. Some of those marbles I'd had longer than I could remember.
“I'm sorry,” Ethan said. Apparently he didn't find my joke funny, either. “Have you thought about starting a new collection?”
“Nah, I'm trying to be less weird.” I hadn't even read a Wikipedia article in weeks, which was progress, right? I used to get so absorbed in that site I'd lose hours, and then everyone would laugh at me for being such a nerd.
It wasn't a nice feeling.
Ethan frowned, as if he had the hardest time understanding what I was saying. “I don't think you need to change, you know?” he said, getting up. “Your weirdness makes you unique. Being normal is highly overrated. As is being popular.” A hint of regret colored his voice as he spoke on. “Look at me, I was a popular kid, dating and marrying a popular girl, and where did it get me?”
I had no idea how to respond to that.
When I remained silent, Ethan shook his head. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.
This isn’t about me.” He paused. “How did you meet Jeremiah, anyway? I know how I ended up with Laura, but how did you get married to a Vinist? Sorry if I’m being rude, but I keep wondering.”
“A research paper,” I said. “I was writing a research paper on social mores within predominantly Vinist communities. He offered to answer some questions for me… and ended up torpedoing the whole project, I guess.” Thinking back on it now, I couldn’t help but wonder if that had been his plan from the start.
“I meet a lot of couples in my line of work and I hear a lot of stories, but that’s one I haven’t heard before.”
“I guess I like to mess up in unusual ways.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. We've both been through disappointing marriages, but that's not necessarily our fault. Or at least, it's not on us alone. The point is, I don't think you need to change. I like you just the way you are.”
While I was being too dumbfounded to say anything, Ethan left the kitchen, muttering about how he had to get going, as if he was starting to regret his words.
I didn't want him to regret those words, though.
No, before I could even think about what I was doing, I went after him.
In the hallway, I saw him putting on his coat. I had to say something before he left. Heart pounding wildly in my chest, I searched the room before me with my eyes, as if the words I lacked were hidden between the coats and mittens on the rack by the door.
And then, the answer came to me.
I noticed now that in his quest to spread Christmas cheer, the garlands weren't the only thing Nathan had hung. No, there was something else as well. A sprig of mistletoe, dangling just over the door. Just over Ethan's head.
If someone's standing under the mistletoe, you have to kiss them.
I couldn't even remember who'd first told me that, but the words echoed through my mind now. I had to heed them. There was nothing for it. This was my chance. Even if kissing Ethan was completely inappropriate, that little piece of Christmas cheer hanging over the door gave me all the excuse I needed.
Gathering all my courage, I stepped forward and grabbed Ethan's arm.
And the moment he turned to me, I kissed him.
My heart threatened to beat out of my chest as my lips touched his and there was no response from him. I must have misread the signals he was sending me.
Or so I thought until he dug his fingers into my sweater and pulled me closer, his tongue tracing my lower lip as if asking to be let in.
