Page 3 of Unexpected

TWO

Hazel

The phone rang endlessly,and I thought it was going to go to voice mail when Michael abruptly answered and huffed out a “hello.”

“Hey, babe. Good morning,” I said as I settled into my favorite chair on our front porch. It was huge, with extra-soft cushions, and was my favorite place to curl up with a large cup of coffee in the morning. I threw the blanket over my legs and tried to hide from the chill in the air.

“Morning,” Michael responded in a less than enthusiastic tone. It was early, but he told me to call.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good.”

“That’s good. I never sleep well when you’re gone.”

“Seriously, Hazel? Is that how you want to start this conversation? With complaints? You know I can’t control my schedule.”

“Wait, that’s not what I meant,” I backpedaled and tried to explain before it turned into a full-fledged argument. “I just meant that I sleep better when you’re next to me. It was meant to be a sweet comment. That’s all.”

“Sure, okay.”

I waited for him to say something else, but when he didn’t, I changed tactics. “What do you have planned for today?”

I heard what sounded like him chewing on the other end. “I’m trying to finish breakfast, and a couple of guys and I are going out. Not sure what we’re doing.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun. Take lots of pictures. I’ve always wanted to go to Boston but haven’t had the opportunity yet.” I worried that my comment would incite a fight, so I added, “Maybe if you like it, we can go back together one day.”

“Sure,” he said with his mouth full. Translation: most likely not, but I didn’t want to argue about it.

“So, I was discussing our wedding date with your mom and mine. They were both thinking this time next year, up in Nashville, would be great.”

His several seconds of silence were heavy. “You know I wanted to be a part of this process, so don’t make any unilateral decisions. What if that doesn’t work for me?” he asked.

“I was asking. That’s why I brought it up. If fall doesn’t work for you, then we can figure something else out. I just want to set a date and get the planning process started.”

Michael proposed when he began law school with the caveat that he wanted to wait until he was done and passed the bar exam to begin wedding planning. I agreed, of course, because I was smitten with my fiancé and was willing to wait. But the first year of his first job was rough. He traveled constantly while trying to move up and position himself well within the national law firm.

The wedding was put on the back burner until things slowed down, except they hadn’t. I thought it was the traveling that was souring his mood. The longer he was gone, the quicker he was to anger until he came home, and we were in the same place once again. The cycle continued though, and I longed for the days that the traveling would cease and he would be in Austin full time, most of the time.

Our relationship seemed a big departure from where we began. After attending the same high school and running into each other at almost every social event because of our parents’ growing friendship, Michael began pursuing me during our freshman year of college. The gifts were expensive. And although I never felt they were necessary, I loved the attention he paid me. No matter where we were or what we were doing, I was the only woman in the room.

I let him chase me for several months, testing his stamina and intentions before I gave in and let him take me on a proper date. The date was flawless, and he continued to be charming, lovable, and romantic as we fell in love.

But somewhere along the way—between graduating from college in Tennessee, getting engaged, and moving to Texas—everything had changed.

“Just don’t set a date until you talk to me. Fall is fine.”

“Perfect. I have a couple of venues in mind, but we can discuss it more when you get back. You’ll be back on Halloween, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said with what sounded like a mouthful of food. “Yeah, flight gets in that morning.”

“Great! Just in time for my birthday. I’m thinking we can go to that Mexican restaurant we liked so much. The one just down the street.”

“Of course, whatever you want to do. It’s your birthday.”

I had begun to respond when a new voice interrupted me. “Michael…” the voice—clearly a woman’s—purred at the other end of the phone.

I stiffened in my chair and listened even more intently. She sounded far away—maybe across the room—and I waited for another sound or some tell of what was going on.

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