Page 132 of The Unraveling

“Marry me. Let’s not lose each other again. I love you.”

I look at his beautiful face, his earnest eyes, and I want to kiss him. But first, I have to say, “Yes. Hell yes.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Iwake up the next morning to the smell of coffee being made. I’m naked in Jordan’s bed, warmed by the different layers of wool blankets we picked out together when deciding to make the bed of our dreams a priority when we first got the flat in London.

I smile as I lie there, feeling so soothed by the familiar setting. The wonky window that needs a book to prop it open to let in the breeze coming from what is, evidently, an unseasonably warm day outside. The twinkle lights on the bed frame. The glass on the bedside table that holds my water from last night.

I’m so happy to be back here.

I get out of bed, wrapping one of the blankets around my body as I go.

Sunshine pours through the open kitchen window and I see that he’s made scrambled eggs.

I don’t know why, but the scrambled eggs he makes are just the best.

“Still want to marry me?” he asks, with the easy smile of someone who knows the answer to his question.

“Uh-huh,” I say. I drop the blanket and run over to him.

My life has had so much uncertainty. All of my life. It was always about preparing for what was to come. It was about withholding. It was about trying to earn the life I thought I deserved. I was lost, waiting, earning, proving, asking, begging.

Now there’s a dense weight of assuredness that has settled into my bones, grounding me, reminding me that I am the one in control. Teaching me that I’m the one in control.

I find my phone and see that I have a message from Charlie.

Please come to my office after class for a meeting at noon.

“Well, there it is,” I say, reading the text aloud to Jordan.

“How do you feel about it?”

I scan my heart for my truest feelings, and then say, “I feel excited. I needed to find ballet again, but I feel really sure that this isn’t right.”

He nods. “Okay.”

I grit my teeth and gear up to acknowledge the elephant in the room. “You know…if I quit, then I’ll have to move out of London.”

He waves a hand. “I’m done with London.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “Between Artie’s article and that asshole’s big purchase that night, I’m kind of…I don’t know, I think I’m sort of rich now?”

I laugh. “I don’t know about rich.”

“No, I kind of am. That painting sale made everyone there start asking about prices. I sold my whole show.”

I drop my fork. “Shut up. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“That’s…that must mean…”

“Yeah. Lots of fucking money. We can probably get a place with heating and air-conditioning. At the very least.”

He takes a bite of his eggs and I stare at him. “That’s insane.”

---