Page 140 of The Rebound
A pause. “You’re right. I misspoke.”
I doubt it. Tyler always says exactly what he means to.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I’m told the restaurant here is good. Or we could order in.”
He goes over to the closet. It’s a casual move. A “look at us being normal, doing normal things” move. As if I’ve just come back from a drink in the lobby.
“I already ate,” I say, drifting toward the window.
“Never stopped you before.”
I can hear the smile in his voice but I don’t turn around. In the reflection of the glass, I can see him standing by the room safe, looking at me.
I stare straight back and I feel… I don’t know what I feel.
“Abby?”
I turn around, hugging my arms to my chest. I no longer care about my body language. I no longer care about what he can read from me. Let him read. Let him know. I have nothing to hide anymore.
“You always said I was bad at small talk,” he says eventually.
“It’s more that we’re good at it.”
“We?”
I make a vague gesture to myself and the world outside. My country. My people.
“Right.” He swallows. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d say he looked nervous. “Well, I won’t try to compete with them. And I won’t waste any more of your time.”
And before I know what’s happening he drops down on one knee.
“The box is empty,” he says, holding it up. “I was hoping you still had the first ring.”
I can only stare. “What are you doing?”
“Proposing to you.”
“You already proposed to me.”
“And now I’m doing it again,” he says politely. “I didn’t get any rose petals. I know you’d think it would just be extra work for housekeeping.”
“Tyler—”
“I’m sorry, Abby. I’m sorry for ever doubting my feelings for you and I’m sorry I didn’t realize that until I lost you.”
“You didn’t lose me,” I remind him. The back of my knees feel funny. “You broke up with me.”
“I did. It was a mistake. One that I’m trying to amend.”
“But I don’t want you to. I don’t want any of this.” I drop my arms, pacing the three steps between the window and the bed. Tyler doesn’t move. “You broke up with me like I was some girl you’d been seeing for a few weeks. Like three years together meant nothing.”
“I know.”
“I was going to marry you!” It hits me then. Marriage. I hadn’t thought about it before. Not really. Sure, I said yes. We bought the ring and we told our families but I hadn’t pictured a wedding or a dress or flowers and food and a honeymoon. I hadn’t thought about putting aMrs.in front of my name. Hadn’t thought about what it meant. How different my life would have been. “I was going to marry you,” I say again. “And you left. You left and you didn’t talk to me again.”
“I tried to.”
“Only when MacFarlane happened.”
