Man of My Dreams(44)
Declan and I kiss and then the group of us down our shots of Jagermeister. I struggle to get it down, but everyone else, including tiny Grace and timid Whitney, wipes their mouths with the backs of their hands. Carl and Declan are engaged in some kind of cryptic handshake and I sip the rest of the disgusting licorice-like liquid before I get Grace alone to thank her.
“So, you up for the task of Maid of Honor?”
Her eyes grow wide, but instead of the ear piercing squeal I thought she’d produce, her fingers are in the air motioning the bartender for another round of shots. “This round’s on your Maid of Honor.” She jumps into my arms, nearly strangling me in her embrace. “Holy shit, Mia. You’re engaged! I mean I knew he was going to do it and all, but still, I just can’t actually believe it.” She takes my left hand in her grip and examines my ring finger with a genuine smile. There is no jealousy or suspicion in my best friend’s eyes. She is as happy as I am right now. Everyone deserves a best friend like her.
“So you think you’ll get married right away? Or are you going to wait until after you both graduate? Oh my God, there’s so much to do…dresses, flowers, a cake. I never thought we’d be planning a wedding while we were both away at college.” Her eyes go a little crazy, glazed over and spinning with way too many possibilities.
I’ve been engaged for three minutes; I’m going to need a little more time before I start booking a hall and shopping for a gown. “Whoa, whoa! Slow down, Grace. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
Declan eyes me from across the booth, recognizing my need for saving. “Grace, are you harassing my fiancé about girly wedding stuff already?”
He said fiancé. I’m pretty sure I’m about to melt from hearing the sound of that word coming from his lips. At the risk of sounding like an evil bitch, I hope Grace isn’t planning on spending the night in my dorm. I want to hear Declan say that word some more while in a few compromising positions.
“Not harassing, Dec. Just asking the obvious. You two are going to wait until after you’ve graduated, right?” Her eyes ping-pong back and forth between the two of us for an answer.
I look at Declan for some help. He merely shrugs. “It’s up to you, babe. I would marry you tomorrow, right here on campus in Professor Maloney’s psych class, but I want whatever you want so the rest is up to you.”
Wow, so now the power rests with me. I’m scared if I say I want to wait he’ll think I’m not happy and I’m scared if we don’t wait we’ll be setting ourselves up for disaster. We need to have level heads about this. We need to discuss it with our parents.
I pull Declan close to me, wishing body language could do all the talking. But I know actual words are needed. “You just called me your fiancé and it sent shivers down my spine. I want to hear you call me that a few more times before I’m your wife. Let’s live in this moment and share our happiness with our family next week and then we’ll take it from there. Okay?”
He kisses the tip of my nose and I feel myself dissolving into him. “Whatever makes my fiancé happy.” This time he grabs my ass when he says it, sparking the desire deeper.
I giggle, resting my face in the crook of his neck. “If you say it like that one more time I’m going to drag you into the bathroom for our first time as an engaged couple.”
His lips brush against my earlobe and he whispers in the most seductive voice I’ve ever heard, “Fiancé, fiancé, fiancé.”
Empty threats are not my thing and I’ve never been one to go back on my word.
I can’t stop fiddling with my wedding rings as I walk into the Westmount Country Club. I’ve been doing a lot of that since Declan left for Hong Kong. The more time apart, the more I fiddle, and the more I fiddle, the more I wonder.
At the airport he promised to call, email or text every day—and he did, religiously, for the entire first week. The time difference was a killer, but he made it a point to call before bedtime to talk to the girls as I tucked them in. And then he would contact me again when he knew we’d have alone time. He told me how he missed me and couldn’t wait to get home to continue where we left off that night. Everything seemed to be going perfectly; the way things were before.
Until now.
The phone calls have become fewer and his loving words sparse. I remember those other words he used—strained, distanced—in the months prior to the incident. While our love making that night brought us steps closer to getting back to good, this trip catapulted us way too many steps in another direction. The connection we shared when he came back home is fizzling with each passing day. And I’m left wondering—is he having the same reservations about us that I’m starting to have? Is he getting used to this separation? Is he sure our marriage will make it through this?