Page 23 of Love Rescheduled

He scrubbed his free hand over his stubbled cheeks. “I don’t understand.”

I pulled away from him, wrapping my arms around myself. “You don’t need to understand. But I’m getting married in September.”

“To whom?” he demanded to know.

I was proud of him for using correct grammar there, but I didn’t mention it. “I don’t know yet. It’s a work in progress.” I scooted to the kitchen.

Josh jumped off the couch and followed me. “What do you mean ‘it’s a work in progress’?”

I opened the refrigerator. “I think that’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“Enlighten me,” he said, flatly.

I grabbed my pre-made bottle of water with freshly squeezed lemon in it, not wishing to face him. But a girl had to do what she had to do. As much as it killed me, I had to rid myself of Josh. Someday he would thank me when he married a non-awkward, vivacious, lover-of-the-spotlight-who-didn’t-schedule-everything kind of woman. Would I hate her? Probably. But I would be happy Josh was living his dreams with a compatible partner by his side.

I shut the refrigerator door, turned, and leaned against it, holding my water bottle for dear life.

Josh gripped a kitchen chair, intensely gazing at me, nonverbally demanding an answer.

Oh, I had one for him. Get ready for him to scream his way out of here. That gave me some pause, but then I thought of the video and remembered his life was no life for me. “The truth is, I want to get married before I turn thirty, so I scheduled a date, and now I’m dating a pool of highly qualified and vetted men to choose from.”

His jaw dropped before he spluttered, looking for some words to say. When he finally found them, this came out of his mouth: “Are you serious? You think you can just schedule love and marriage?”

I pursed my lips together and thought. “Yes.”

“Oh, hell.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nat, you know that’s not how it works, right?”

I pushed off the refrigerator. “How do you know?”

He stared at me blankly, no words forming.

That’s what I thought. “I need to get back to work. You can see yourself out.” I sounded much braver than I felt. My heart was breaking. Like Nana would say, “Some of the hardest things you will ever do are the right things.”

The infuriating man followed me back to my office. “The front door is the other way,” I reminded him while I crossed the threshold, heading for my desk.

Josh leaned against the doorframe and watched me settle in at my neatly organized desk. Lord Mac was patiently waiting for me.

“Go already.” I pointed, albeit shakily. I wasn’t used to being so bold.

Josh folded his arms, showing he wasn’t going anywhere. “Nat, you can’t be serious about this.”

“I assure you I am.”

“What about us?”

“What about us?” I repeated, my voice wavering.

“At the club you said you still loved me,” he said point-blank. “That means nothing to you?”

My eyes began stinging, fiercely, but I held back the emotion the best I could, knowing Josh would use it to his advantage. I couldn’t risk us replaying the scene from three years ago, where he almost convinced me to stay. “Of course it means something to me. That will never change. But this”—I pointed between us—“this isn’t a good idea. So, please go,” I pleaded.

“No,” he refused. “This is asinine. I let you convince me once we won’t work. I’m not doing that again.”

Oh, no, no, no. I couldn’t let him fight for us. This was not part of the plan. “I don’t think you needed much convincing, considering you got engaged five months after we broke up,” I threw at him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ask anyone close to me.”

“Camila, maybe? You two got awfully cozy. Did that start before or after we broke up?”

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