“Hmm. So, earlier, when you said you had all those deep feelings for him . . .”
I looked away. “I don’t know. Seeing him brought up a lot of feelings, but I think it was just my ego getting the best of me. I felt rejected by him, you know? He broke my fifteen-year-old heart.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry for that, Emi.”
I looked into Trevor’s blue eyes, so light you could barely tell what color they were. “I bet you broke some hearts in your day too,” I said.
He laughed. “I’ve been with you most of my adult life.”
I swallowed. “Do I hear regret in your tone?”
“No. No regrets.” He lifted his linen napkin, revealing a red ring box. I gasped. He stood from the table, came to my side, and dropped down on one knee, revealing a gold band at the same time. “Will you marry me, Emiline?”
Holy crap. Was he really serious with that parking-lot proposal?
Twenty seconds went by as I stared at the ring, stunned.
Trevor swallowed. “I’m on the floor of a restaurant. Are you going to say something?”
“I can’t,” I blurted out.
“What do you mean? You can’t say something?”
“No. I can’t . . . marry you.”
He looked wounded. “What? Why?”
Nothing about the moment felt right, but I didn’t want to crush him. “Trevor, I’m not saying I won’t marry you someday. I’m just saying I can’t get engaged to you right now, not after everything that just happened. I wouldn’t be saying yes in the right spirit. Please get up and sit.”
He closed the box, threw it on the table, and sat down. He was clearly angry. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned back and scowled. “I don’t understand you.”
“I know I’ve been acting strange lately, but just bear with me,” I said.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing? Bearing with you?”
I stared at him for several seconds, then I went to stand up.
“Don’t run away from me, Emiline. You know I don’t deserve that.”
I sat back down. “I don’t know what to do. I know you don’t deserve this, Trevor. But I also don’t deserve to be guilted into an engagement.”
He nodded. “I agree. I’ll give you six months to think about it, to get him out of your system. When you give me your answer, promise me that it won’t have anything to do with him. This should just be about us.” He pointed out the window, but I knew exactly what he meant.
I nodded in agreement because, right now, I wasn’t sure why I was saying no. Yes, it didn’t feel right, but what if Trevor was being serious about all of this? If Jase hadn’t come back into my life, would I have wanted to marry Trevor? Or would I have run from this proposal no matter what?
We finished dinner in amiable silence, but my mind was adrift. Every few minutes we’d look up at each other. I would make an effort to smile, but Trevor remained serious. When he paid the check, he said, “I’m gonna watch the game at a bar. Do you want to come with me?”
I looked at my phone and saw that Aunt Cyndi had texted me to say she was at my apartment, and that Cara had let her in. “Hold on,” I said to Trevor before texting her back.
Me: Make yourself at home. I’ll be there in a little bit.
Cyndi: No rush, we’re busy reading your journal.
Me: I don’t have a journal.
Cyndi: Well, you should, you’re a writer.
Me: I’ll be home in twenty.
I checked the clock on my phone. It was nine p.m. I had no intention of going to meet Jase, but I couldn’t help thinking about him waiting for me at George’s in an hour. I snuffed the thought out.
“I need to get home. Cyndi and Sharon are there. You go and watch the game. I’ll text you later.”
“Okay. You want me to come up with you and say hi?”
“You don’t have to.” Aunt Cyndi never said so, but I knew she didn’t think Trevor and I were right for each other. She spent way too much time trying to set me up with guys in the writing program at Berkeley. She firmly rejected the notion of opposites attract. Plus, Trevor rarely made an effort with her. The obligatory offer to come up and say hi was his usual MO. I wanted Trevor to want to come up and say hi, but I knew he felt out of place.
I left Trevor at the front of the restaurant with a quick peck on the cheek. “I love you,” I said.
“You too. I love you too,” he said stiffly, as if he were speaking a foreign language.
I WALKED THROUGH the door of my apartment and was greeted instantly by Cyndi and Sharon, who insisted on smothering me every time I was in their presence.
“She’s here!” Cyndi said as she and Sharon crushed me between them.
“Can’t . . . breathe . . .”