Page 33 of Nothing But the Truth

The words stung, but Lucy could not deny their truth.

“Yes, I think we are breaking up, Caleb. I’ve realized I’ve spent all this time waiting for something I don’t even want—lying to myself about it. Telling myself it’s fine when you don’t show up; it’s fine that we’re not physically compatible; another bouquet of flowers is fine. But it’s not fine. And I don’t even know if I want two kids, a labradoodle, and a house in the suburbs!”

He leaned back like she’d thrown something at him.

“Oh, get a clue, Caleb!” she snapped at his reaction, and paced toward the window. “You know women are pressured to have husbands and homes and kids; don’t look so shocked.”

“I—I’m not shocked,” he said in what Lucy was sure was a lie. “I just didn’t realize that... you were feeling that pressure.”

She whirled on him, angrier than she thought she was. “Well, perhaps if you had paid closer attention you would have. I’ve been waiting for you to propose to me for six months. I’ve been telling myself tonight’s the night, and it’s never the night!”

He paused, looking half-affronted and half-concerned for her mental state. “Lucy, that’s crazy.”

“Is it?” She threw out her arms. “I don’t know, Caleb. Maybe you’d be a little crazy too if society told you it was what you should expect. But I guess guys don’t get that memo, which leaves us gals losing our minds holding out for something we never even wanted!”

Her voice cracked off the glass wall. Caleb flinched and looked like he would do anything to stop her from yelling.

“Do you... do you want to get married?”

“No!” she cried.

The word yes had sat spring-loaded on her tongue for months. And in the moment of truth, when it had the chance to launch from her mouth like a bride-to-be rocket, its opposite came exploding out.

“Caleb, you and I getting married would be a mistake.”

He slowly nodded in agreement, as if what she said were the most obvious thing he’d heard. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“Lucy, what do you want from me? You show up here after apparently drinking in the middle of the day, telling me I’m a bad kisser, and mad at me for not proposing to you when I didn’t even know marriage was on the table!”

“Don’t judge me. You have no idea what kind of day I’m having, Caleb!”

“How could I if you haven’t told me?!”

The harsh echo of his voice resounded around the room, hammering Lucy with another layer of realization.

She hadn’t told him anything about her day. Not the curse, not the bloody nose—not even Jonathan. She’d never told him about Jonathan, in fact. The fact that she hadn’t turned to him in any of her distress that day was perhaps a sign less of her independence and more of her indifference because she had told her friends. She even told Adam the bartender, to some extent.

“You’re right. I haven’t.” But when she tried to picture telling him, she couldn’t. “I guess I just never saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“How little we have in common.”

A silence settled between them. Lucy knew where they stood, but Caleb still looked thrown.

“So, just to be clear, we’re breaking up because I didn’t propose to you, but you don’t want to get married.”

“No, Caleb,” she said patiently. “We’re breaking up because we’re not good together. We never have been. We were just too passively engaged in this relationship to notice.”

After a moment, he nodded like he understood, and the fact that neither of them suggested they try being more actively engaged solidified their decision.

“I don’t think we should move in together,” Lucy said. It was a given, but she felt the need to say it anyway.

He gave her a pained look of agreement.

They stared at each other, neither sure what to say next. Was there anything left?

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