I get in the car seething with anger and frustration. For the life of me, I can’t understand her hesitation about getting married. She never offers an explanation. She might be wearing my ring, but she isn’t my fiancée. She has no intentions of ever marrying me. She will also never leave though. Maybe it’s time I give up on this power struggle and just accept the fact that she won’t ever be my wife.
Fuck, that idea burns. Damn it! I can’t make her see how much I want this. Manda is my everything. I want it permanently. How am I just supposed to move forward with her, hopefully have children and build a life with her, when she can’t even commit completely to me?
Manda doesn’t immediately follow me out, but a few moments later, she opens the car door and slides in. “I love you.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” I say dryly.
“How important is it to you that we get married?” she asks, causing my eyes to snap over to hers. A small tear is running down her cheek, and the anger fades from my body.
“I just want you, Manda. I’m not trying to force you into this, I swear.” I reach over and dry her tear with my thumb.
“I don’t want to lose you when you finally get sick of waiting for me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. This sucks, but I won’t walk away. I’d rather have you as my fiancée for the rest of my life than not have you at all.” I lean in and kiss her, pouring every bit of my love into her mouth.
“How about this? We go to dinner with Sarah and Brett. Then we go home and figure this out. I have a few things we need to talk about, and if we’re on the same page after that, we can set a date.”
“Don’t fuck with me about this Manda. Are you serious?” I ask, and she offers me a nervous smile.
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
“You’re going to set a date? Tonight?”
“No, I said after we talk and figure out a few things, we can set a date.”
“That’s a yes.” I kiss her again.
“No, that’s a maybe,” she says sternly, but it does nothing to wipe away my smile.
“No, that’s a yes.” I wink and start up the car.
“Please don’t get excited until we talk, I need you to hear me out and listen to my reasons.”
“Sure,” I say, completely ignoring her warning. I reach into my jacket pocket, pull out that black box, and place it on her lap. “Here. Hold on to this. You’ll be needing it soon.”
“I can’t believe you bought a wedding ring.” She flips open the box to get a good look at it. “It’s beautiful, Caleb.” She never takes it out or even touches it, but she looks up at me with a hopeful glow in her green eyes.
“It’s going to look amazing on you, Mrs. Jones.”
“If I put it on, I’ll never take it off. But I need to make sure you really want to give it to me first,” she says with an eerie edge to her voice.
“Manda, I’ve been asking you to marry me for six months now. I think it’s safe to assume I want to give it to you.”
“Yeah, I know. Let’s just go to dinner. I could use a drink.” She places the box in the cup holder and straightens to pull on her seatbelt.
“Not too much. I need you sober when you set a date tonight.” I smirk and pull out of the parking lot.
“TELL ME about your tattoos,” I ask, sitting on Caleb’s lower back.
He is sprawled out across the bed as I massage his body. He had a tough workout at the gym tonight—or at least that is what he said. I’m pretty sure he just wanted me to rub his back. I’m okay with that though. He always returns the favor, right after he rolls me over and really loosens me up a few times.
“Manda’s favorite song was Sarah McLachlan’s Blackbird. I swear she used to listen to it on repeat all day every day.”
I freeze at his answer. I must have asked him this question a dozen times, but he always finds a way to get out of answering. I never push it. I know it’s some sort of tribute to Manda. I just don’t know the details.
“Oh,” is all I say.
I continue to scratch my nails down his back as silence fills the room. This is a giant tattoo. There is no way it was a simple request or impromptu decision. He had to have put a lot of thought into it, but I don’t want to dig too deep and make him uncomfortable by prying.
“I got it piece by piece every month for the first two years after she died. It was therapeutic for me. It made me feel like I didn’t just have to hurt on the inside anymore.”
The idea of Caleb hurting so much breaks my heart. I quickly give up the massage and lean down pressing my chest flush with his back. I hold my weight on my knees and elbows but snuggle in as close as possible to his muscular shoulder, looping my arms under his.