Page 107 of The One I Love
I look to Betsy and nod my head. “Exactly. I’ve already been forced into one marriage, and we see how that turned out.”
“Did you say that to Shane?”
I shake my head. “I wanted him to realize that. I know now that wasn’t the best move. I should have just spoken it. But I have before. He knows how I felt about my first marriage, and what led to it. And things were heated when Shane suggested it. I didn’t want him to think I was comparing him to Paul. That would have led to a whole different fight. But he doesn’t see it. Oh, and he didn’t even ask me! He just said ‘maybe we should.’”
“Clearly he didn’t go to Oliver for proposal advice,” Betsy says with pursed lips.
This makes me laugh through the tears. “Apparently not. But yeah, he basically said ‘why not, since we already are?’ Those are the words I always dreamed of hearing when asking for my hand in marriage.”
I get up and start pacing around the dressing room. “Am I asking for too much?”
“Too much for what?” Whitley says.
I shrug. “I don’t know, to have the proposal. To have the big moment. I didn’t have it with Paul, which I understand why. I guess I just thought with Shane I’d get that. He…he’s so thoughtful. And present. Remember that whole ‘if he wanted to he would’ conversation we had? That’s Shane to a tee. The man is the walking definition of loving by acts of service. So when he just threw it out there… I don’t know, it just felt so impersonal. I guess I thought when he asked me to marry him I’d finally have the moment. And that I’d feel like this man would move heaven and earth to spend the rest of his life with me.”
“The moment?”
I nod as I feel the tears starting to return. “The moment. The one where I’m taken by surprise when I see him on one knee. The one where I can barely hear him through my racing thoughts and tears when he asks. Watching him slip the ring on my finger. I’ve just…I know I’m not the girliest girl, but I’ve always wanted that moment. I thought I was never going to have it. I honestly gave up on it. But…I don’t know, I thought maybe Shane would be the one to make that memory with me.”
“Oh, Amelia.” Whitley stands up and brings me in for a hug. “You deserve that. Every person does.”
“I don’t know, maybe I’m selfish,” I say, now feeling ridiculous actually saying all of that out loud. “I’m thirty-five years old, for Pete’s sake. I’m too old for butterflies. Maybe I shouldbe practical.”
Betsy pops up and grabs me out of Whitley’s embrace. “Oh no, ma’am, we’re not talking like that. You’re not going back to the woman who would apologize for wanting things. Or pushing her feelings down. You aren’t ready, and you don’t want to get married under these circumstances. Therefore, you’re not. And if he wants to piss and moan about that, then that’s a him problem.”
She’s right. I know she is. It’s just with every day this continues, I feel myself wanting to give in, just to put an end to this. It’s my natural reaction. It’s how I kept the peace for so many years. In my mind, saying yes, and putting aside my feelings, solves all the problems. It makes Shane happy. Our mothers. Probably our friends, even though they’re not pushing us. At the end of the day, me saying yes and turning this fake engagement into a real one makes everyone happy.
Except me.
“You’re right,” I say. “I need to talk to him. We need to get on the same page. And then tell everyone the truth. Hurt feelings be damned.”
Just saying that out loud was hard. I can’t imagine what this conversation will feel like with Shane.
“Exactly.” Whitley says. “Except we have one problem. Well, two.”
As if on cue, we hear a knock on the door, and Kendra popping her head in. “Ladies, I can’t keep this up. Amelia, I love you, and I hope you’re okay, but if you don’t come out in a wedding dress soon there is going to be a search party sent. Those two are relentless.”
I nod. “Okay. I think I can finish.”
“You got this,” Betsy says. “Get through it, then we’ll sneak you out before they can suddenly get the idea to start looking at bridesmaids’ dresses.”
I nod. “Let’s do it.”
I take the dress off the hanger—I think it’s the one that Whitley picked for me—and slip it on. I don’t mean to look at myself in the mirror, but I do, and I’m stopped in my tracks.
It’s the dress.Mydress. The one I envisioned myself wearing during my beach wedding to Shane. The silk hugs me in all the right places. It’s plain—there isn’t a drop of lace or beading—yet somehow it doesn’t look boring. It has a shimmer to it, and I can imagine the sun hitting it as the sun sets over the Gulf.
“Oh my God, Amelia…”
Whitley comes behind me and puts her hands on my shoulders. “You look beautiful.”
“It’s my dress,” I say through another round of tears. “This is my dress.”
“Do you need a minute?” Betsy asks.
I nod my head yes as the two women who have become such special friends leave the room. And all I do is stare at my reflection in the mirror and wonder why I don’t want this.
Because I have the dress. I have the man.
