Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Chuckling, Marnie rolls onto her side and scoots closer until her nose is mere inches from mine. “Speaking of your mom, do you dispute her statement that you’ve seemed happier this week than you’ve been in a long time?”
“Fuck yeah, I dispute it.” Marnie’s shoulders droop with disappointment, so I slide my fingertip underneath her chin and whisper, “I’ve never been this happy, ever. Period.”
I’m expecting her face to light up, but she looks nothing but pissed now.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“I think you know.”
“I don’t.”
Marnie sits up and runs a hand through her wet hair. “It pains me to know we both had the best week of our lives, literally, and yet we’re not going to keep this going when we get back home. It hurts to know I’m going to have to say goodbye to you.”
I sit up. “We wouldn’t have to say goodbye if you’d be fucking reasonable about your expectations. If you’d compromise a little bit.”
“What would be the point?” she says. “If you’re not sure after this week that Ripley and I are what you want for the long haul, then a long-distance relationship, one in which we try to keep this going while you’re working yourself to the bone in a new job, in a new city, while I’m still juggling everything all by myself in Seattle, isn’t going to make you change your mind or make me happy.”
“How the fuck could I be sure right now?” I bellow.
“Quiet,” she hisses.
I take a deep breath and whisper-shout, “Yes, this week was magical. Yes, it was the best week of my life. But that doesn’t matter when my brain knows this week hasn’t been real. We’ve been living in a fantasy—in a little Utopian bubble where we’ve been able to focus our undivided attention on each other without work or real life getting in the way.”
“It felt real to me.”
“It felt real, but it wasn’t. The true test is what happens when we’re in the real world again.”
“I know exactly what happens in the real world. You’ll be in California and Ripley and I will be in Seattle and this week will quickly become a distant memory.”
“Why does it have to be black and white like that? Remember when you told Mr. and Mrs. Walters at the opening party you supported me moving wherever my career took me, because you can work in any city and Ripley’s young enough to move without missing a beat? You said that, Marnie.”
“Not so loud.”
“You said that.”
“Yes, I did. About my fiancé. The fake version of you who’d put a ring on it and promised me a motherfucking happily ever after!”
“Not so loud.”
Her nostrils flare. She exhales and gathers herself. “Don’t you see the important context underlying me making that comment to Mrs. Walters? Can’t you see the thing that existed then that doesn’t exist now?”
I clench my jaw and grit out, “Why can’t we date when we get back? Why isn’t that on the table?”
“Long distance?”
“Yeah, unless you want to move to California and date me from there.”
Marnie scoffs. “I’m not going to uproot Ripley and chase a man to another state without a firm commitment and a ring on my finger.”
I glance at the ring on Marnie’s finger—the fake one we picked out together a lifetime ago. “So, you’re telling me, if I told you to keep wearing that ring, and never take it off, to wear it for real, you’d be down for that?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“No. Seriously, Marnie.”
“Seriously. Yes.”
I can’t believe my ears. I only said that to call her bluff. And yet, she’s serious? How could Marnie possibly think it’d be reasonable to get engaged, for real, after spending only one week together—and inside a fantasy, no less? I can’t believe she’s serious, so I press further. “You’re honestly saying you and Ripley would move to California with me, if I told you to keep wearing that ring and consider it a real commitment in the real world?”
“Yes.”
I’m blown away. Flabbergasted beyond my ability to process. “And yet . . . you’d say no to dating me, long-distance?”
“Correct. I’m not looking for a long-distance relationship. You heard Ripley. She wants a fucking daddy. And daddies are there. In person.” She exhales. “If it were just me, maybe I’d give a long-distance relationship a whirl. But even then, you’re a workaholic, Max. And you’re starting a new job where you’re going to work harder than ever to impress everyone. How often would we even see each other? I wouldn’t want to bring Ripley with me, when I came to visit you, so how often would she see you? I wouldn’t expect you to make it to Seattle very often, given how hard you work. And if you came, how stressed would you be about work the whole time?” Something on my face concedes all her points. That’s clear enough when she motions to my face and says, “You see my point.” Marnie stares at me for a long moment, waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, she takes my hand and says, with surprising tenderness, “I’m ready to build a life with someone. I want another baby, if I can have one. I want a home. A partner. A teammate. I want to know someone’s got my back in good times and bad, no matter what, forever, and I’ve got theirs. For the first time in my life, I’m not only clear on all that, I’m also certain I’ll be a fantastic wife or partner to some lucky man. If you’re not going to be that man, then I’m going to look for him when we get back.”