Page 29 of A Novel Love Story

“A wedding. This wedding.” I squeezed his hand. “You’ve got good taste. I was skeptical of the barn at first but …” And I grinned at him. “I guess the rustic charm is growing on me, and the antlers.”

“Yeah,” he said absently, glancing up at the chandelier. He took his hand out of mine, and rubbed it on his jeans as if it was clammy. “I’ve something to ask you,” he said, and his voice was soft and tender. My heart skipped a beat—

I didn’t know why. He already proposed. We were getting married. Whatever he was going to ask, I’d say yes. (Within reason. And experimentation.)

Then he said, “Do you really want to do this?”

I laughed. “The antler chandelierisa bit much.”

He glanced at me, and his eyebrows furrowed, and he looked away again. “No, I mean—you know what I mean.”

I stared at him. Why did he look nervous? “The venue? I thought you liked the rustic look—”

“Why do you alwaysdothis?” he muttered.

I didn’t understand. “I … what am I doing?”

He started to reply, and then closed his mouth and frowned. After a moment, he said, “I don’t think I want to do this.”

Oh, I thought, my eyes widening.

“I’m not ready,” he went on, shooting me a pleading look. “I thought I was but—I’m not. I don’t think we should.”

“I don’t think I follow,” I said, feigning naivete, because he couldn’t possibly be telling me what he was.I was misunderstanding. I had to be. “Is it the venue? I can ask about a different one?”

“You didn’t want a wedding,” he interrupted.

“I wanted what you wanted.”

“And you hate this barn.”

“I don’thateit,” I murmured.

He turned to me, grabbing my hands tightly. “Elle,” he said, and he was the only person who ever called me Elle. “Where are you in this wedding? I keep looking around and I don’t see you at all. What are you looking forward to here?”

My eyebrows furrowed. “Being with you.”

His lips pursed into a thin line. And—to my utter horror—he let go of my hands. “There has to be more to it. Think, is there anything?”

“I …” I looked around. “I mean, I … like my dress? And—and the red velvet cake is going to be great. And—why are you asking me all this? What’s gotten into you?” My heart was in my throat. I felt like I wanted to vomit. “Is it something I did? Something I said?”

“No,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. “No, I just …” He pulled his hands through his thick, dark hair. “I think I want a break.”

I stood, numb, in that rustic barn under the antler chandelier as it loomed over us like some sort of witness. “A—a what?”

“I think we should see other people,” he clarified.

“We’re getting married,” I said, and my voice sounded a hundred miles away. “In a week, we’ll be married.” Then my brain began to work overtime. It began to tally up all the different facets of this wedding that he wanted but didn’tactuallywant to be in charge of. “We’ve already paid for this venue. We have family coming from across the country—they probably can’t get their flights refunded!What do I tell them? What do I tell the caterers? The DJ? What do we do with the little gift baskets we got for everyone?” Then, looking him in the eyes, I asked, “What about me?”

He ran his hands through his hair again. “I don’t know, Eileen. I don’tknow. I just—I can’t do this. I just—I realized …” He turned his piercing blue gaze to me. “That I don’t really know you.”

That sounded silly. “Ofcourseyou do. We’ve been together for—for what, four years?”

“Yes! Four whole years, and I just know you when you’re with me.”

“Because I’mwithyou,” I tried to argue, but he turned and started to pace away from me. “You know my favorite color! My birthday! You know everything—”

“I don’t know what youwant, Eileen!” He turned on his heel back to me, and reined in his voice. “I don’t know what you want.”

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