“Does she love you?” he asked.
“She said she did last night.” I exhaled, thinking about how sweet those words had sounded on her lips. I wanted to hear them again, wanted to feel her whisper them in my ear as I slid inside her, wanted to hear it over and over again.
“She does,” Skylar said confidently. “I believe that. When she came home from Detroit, she was so weird. Just mooning around all over the place, like she was sad about something, but it definitely wasn’t the breakup.”
I frowned, slumping in my chair. “So now what? She doesn’t believe anything I tell her. And I know that’s my fault, because I once told her I was too selfish to love anyone forever.”
“Man.” Sebastian tipped up his beer and shook his head. “You are definitely your own worst enemy.”
“I know. Help,” I begged, sitting up straight again. “You guys are good at love. I am horrible. I’m only good at sex.”
“We’ve heard.” Skylar wiggled her eyebrows.
“I didn’t mean like that—I meant that when people write in and ask me about sex, I’m good with the answers. But the emotional stuff is killing me.” I ran a hand over my hair. “Not even joking, sometimes I think about her, and I can’t even breathe. It’s like I’m suffocating.”
“Yeah, that’s the feeling all right.” Sebastian nodded. “What do you say when people ask about sex?”
“Slow down. Pay attention. Give a fuck.”
He shrugged. “OK. Go with that. Go home and think, really think, about what would be meaningful to Natalie. About what she wants to hear and how she wants to hear it.”
“OK. Yeah, maybe rushing right over to her house without a plan was a mistake.”
Skylar tapped her chin. “But you have to do something big.”
I sat up straight. “That’s what my friend Nick said. A grand gesture.” I looked at Sebastian. He seemed to have all this figured out. “What did you do?”
“He got on a plane,” answered Skylar. “Which I knew he did not want to do.”
“More airplanes,” I grumbled. “Should I book a flight somewhere?”
“Not necessarily.” Sebastian leaned forward on his knees. “That was my issue, because I’m anxious about flying. I’m anxious about a lot of things, and to show her that I was willing to try to be better for her, I had to get on that plane.”
Skylar patted his leg again. “I had to drag you on that plane, honey. But you let me.” She turned to me. “You have to think of something that’s unique to you—something that would show her you mean what you say. Something that would show her you’re still the Miles she loves, but you’re also the one who loves her back enough to change.”
It hit me. “I could write about her.”
“Write about her?”
“Yes. I could use her real name,” I said, warming to the idea even more. “That’s something I’ve never done before.”
“There you go.” Skylar nodded.
“But I’m not going to propose online. I need something better.”
“Think about it. Think about her and what’s important to her. It’ll come to you.” She clapped her hands together. “And then I’ll plan your wedding!”
“Oh, Jesus.” Sebastian put up a hand. “Let’s get through ours first please.”
She nudged him with one bare foot. “Party pooper.”
They invited me to stay for pizza, but I said no, thanks, I had some work to do. My brain was whirling with possible things to write about, and I wanted to get the ideas down on paper before I forgot them. I also had to think of a way to propose to her that wasn’t forced or clichéd or impersonal.
Propose. Marriage.
Me.
I grinned as I started the Jeep.
That was fucked up. But I loved it.
• • •
Later that night I called Skylar, who had given me her cell phone number and told me to reach out if I needed help.
“Hey, it’s Miles. I have an idea.”
She squealed. “What can I do?”
“Do you have a decent camera?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Are you working tomorrow?”
“Nope. I’m off Mondays.”
“Can you come to my house in the morning?”
“Yes, but I’m dying. What are we going to do?”
I smiled. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Bring the camera, please. Hey, do you by any chance have another day off this week?”
“No. But I could take one.”
“What about going in late? Could you go in a little later on Tuesday morning?”
“Sure. My God, Miles. You’re killing me. What are you planning?”
“To upend her life,” I said. “In the best possible way.”
All day Sunday I expected him to get in touch, but he didn’t. I worked that morning, and every time the door opened, I thought it might be him, but it never was. We stayed so busy, I was able to get through the day without breaking down, but the moment I got home, I ran up to my room and crashed onto my bed, sobs wrenching from my throat.
Had I been wrong last night to turn him away? Was I just being stubborn? Refusing to give him a chance to prove he could change because I was scared of being hurt? Had I made him feel like he’d never be enough? Maybe it was my fault and this would be just another almost, another missed opportunity to be happy. Maybe I was too stuck on what I thought my life would look like. But how could I know for sure?
Needing to clear my head, I went to the gym.
I felt a little better after my swim, but my stomach was growling. I thought maybe I’d pick up some takeout from O’Malley’s, so I parked and walked down the block, the summer breeze ruffling my damp hair. I passed the bar where just over a month ago, my sisters and I had gotten drunk on vodka martinis and gotten the reading from Madam Psuka. Instinctively, I looked up at her window and saw the same sign.
I stopped in my tracks.
Had she been right after all?
Let’s see.
Life upended? Check.
Handsome man? Check.
Stranger? Maybe…
Granted, I hadn’t known his real first name was Edward, but maybe more significant was that he was trying to change, to be a different kind of man. Was he capable of it? Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought.
On impulse, I pushed open the door to Madam Psuka’s building and walked up the stairs. “Ew,” I said, holding my nose. It had smelled bad the first time, but now that I was pregnant, bad smells were even more offensive. And I was only like five weeks along! What the hell would happen at ten weeks or twenty or thirty?
Oh, God. Pregnancy was so long.
Heaving a sigh, I reached the top of the steps and knocked. The door opened a moment later, and the acrid, herbal smell wafted out. It was pungent, but better than the cat pee scent in the hall. Madam Psuka appeared, looking much the same as she had last month, only wearing soft, flowing black pants and a loose-fitting top slipping off one shoulder.
“You are back.” She nodded, her eyes narrowing. “I knew you would be.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “May I come in?”
“Yes. Please.” She stepped back, and I entered the colorful room, which was, again, lit only by candles. “Sit down.”
I lowered myself onto the rug, and she sat opposite me, legs criss crossed, feet bare. “So,” I began.
“You are vith child.”
I blinked at her, then touched my stomach. “Is it that obvious?”
She shrugged and gave me a smug little smile. “Maybe only to me.”
“Wow.”
“The handsome stranger?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“Interesting. You vant reading?”
“Uh, yes. I’ll pay you this time. How much?”
“For you, twenty dollar.”
“OK. Should I pay you now?”
She flipped her wrist. “You can pay after. Give me your hands.”
I held them both out, and she took them in hers, closing her eyes. Again I felt the hum of energy between us, as unbelievable as it sounds. My hands and forearms grew warm with it.