Page 107 of Resisting the Grump

Because the feelings I had for Oliver didn’t come from my head. They came from my body. That’s why loving him felt so easy. I wasn’t forcing love. I was simply freeing it. And the more I opened my heart to him, the more self-expressed, confident, and creative I felt.

Turns out love is more like a door than a destination.

My mind flashed back to a family vacation we went on when I was younger. My mom and I ordered lunch at the bar by the pool, and I was a teenager, so sitting at the bar felt inexplicably exciting.

As my feet dangled from the high stool, I watched the young bartenders at the resort perform their duties with a mesmerizing confidence I envied.

It wasn’t long before their confidence felt catching, and I remember deliberately rolling my shoulders back and crossing my previously swinging legs. One of the cutest guys behind the bar smiled at me a few minutes later when he walked by with a tray of drinks, and I felt ridiculously cool for a split second.

…Until my dad arrived after his conference call and started flirting with my mom like he didn’t know her. At first it was just cringey. Then it became mildly annoying because my presence clearly wasn’t part of the fantasy they were playing out. But most of all, it was surprising.

The vast majority of my friends’ parents acted like old married couples. They nagged each other or ignored each other or treated one another like family heirlooms they didn’t particularly treasure but had no intention of getting rid of. But my parents were different. There was still a tangible spark between them.

Naturally, I didn’t realize it at the time, but I could see now that it was because they went out of their way to keep it alive. The relationship they had didn’t just happen. It wasn’t luck. It was a conscious creation they both helped shape. Because they were up for it. Because they were in on it together. Because the effort they invested actually gave them energy back.

And suddenly, I understood that having a relationship like theirs wasn’t an impossibility. It was a decision.

Whether my parents made that decision because of who they were or because of who they inspired each other to be, I’d never know. But I did know it was the little things. Like flirting with her at the hotel bar and letting him sneak Twinkies in his tool shed.

Their unicorn relationship wasn’t unreal. It was just the result of decades of daily decisions that added up. Sweet nothings added up.

Speaking of sweet, I poked one of the cookies again to see if it was cool enough to try, but I opted to wait a few more minutes since singeing my tastebuds would spoil the fun. To distract myself from the tempting treats a while longer, I slid a bottle of Chianti off my skinny wine rack. Now that the cookies were in the clear, I felt I could justify a celebratory glass.

It took me a second to find the opener in my cluttered kitchen drawer, but after I found it, I knocked the drawer closed with my hip and set about opening the bottle. It wasn’t until I twisted the screw all the way through the cork that I remembered a delivery guy could show up any minute. So, before I uncorked the wine, I went to my room to grab a robe.

Despite Oliver’s teasing, I had no interest in treating the DHL guy to an eyeful of me going braless in my silk pajamas. Far as I was concerned, there was only one man who’d earned that view.

When I came out of my room, I flicked off the Hallmark movie I’d been half watching. It wasn’t a channel I usually put on, but Grace swore up and down it was her go-to when she was baking because you could follow the storylines even if you got distracted.

She was right. I was sure I knew where the story was going, and it was cute. But to be honest. I spent most of the time thinking the lead wasn’t nearly as hot as Oliver, and since hearing his voice, I couldn’t help but wish I was the one who’d be getting a big, dramatic kiss tonight. So I figured a sexy book would be better company and planned to curl up with one as soon as the delivery guy departed.

I was about to finish opening the wine again when I heard a knock. “Coming,” I called, grabbing the belt on my robe and tying it on my way to the door as I tried not to trip in my fuzzy slippers. I slid the chain lock off, turned the handle, and cracked the door open. But it wasn’t a delivery guy in khaki shorts with a clipboard at all.

It was Oliver. Freshly shaven in a navy blue suit. My heart swelled at the sight of him. “Well color me surprised,” I said, opening the door wider.

His eyes smiled. “Hi.”

“Wow, I feel extremely underdressed,” I said, looking him up and down. “What’s the special occasion?”

He dropped to one knee in front of me.

My throat closed up.

His eyes stayed on mine as he lifted a small velvet box between us.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t see anything except my handsome neighbor on his knee in front of me. On my doorstep. With a small velvet box.

“I want to say the perfect words right now,” he said. “I want to give you the perfect proposal.”

I swallowed.

“I want to be the perfect man and paint the perfect picture of what you want for the future and then promise to give it to you.”

I put a hand on my chest.

“But words don’t do my feelings for you justice. I could spend the rest of my life trying in vain to plan a proposal worthy of the incredible woman you are. And you already know I’m not a perfect man.”

I pressed my lips together.

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