I decide to go surfing even though the tide is low while Evie sketches. It’s either that or sit and watch her drawing up on her old rock.
That’s a sight I can go without seeing at the moment.
It’s hard enough to see when I come out with my board, and she is already up there, sketchpad in hand with her face tilted up to the sky, her hair blowing in the breeze.
It’s another flashback to my youth, reminding me of the way I loved her back then, how much I loved her, probably from the moment I had seen her sitting up there.
After I’ve finished surfing, she’s still up there, sketching. I know she said she didn’t draw anymore, but she seems to have her mojo back—or whatever it is that artists have—and I don’t want to interrupt, so I leave her out there and go inside to take a shower.
When I’m showered and dressed, I head out of my room to see if she’s ready for dinner. I was thinking we could order something in.
I walk out of my bedroom, and something makes me look to the left. That’s when I see my old bedroom door ajar.
I always have that door locked. I don’t want to risk anyone going in there and realizing what a fucking freak I am.
I was in there last weekend, just looking at stuff. I must have forgotten to lock it.
Fuck!
My feet are moving toward the door, my heart pumping in my chest. I have to know if she’s in there or if it just opened somehow. It definitely wasn’t open earlier. I would have seen it.
But if she’s in there, then…she’ll have seen it. And she’ll know that I’m not over her, that I never got over her.
With a shaking hand, I grab the handle and push the door the rest of the way open.
She’s here, standing in the middle of the room, with her wedding dress in her hands, her eyes on it.
She looks up at me, startled.
There are tears in her eyes along with a look of confusion mixed with shock.
I feel like I’ve just caught her reading my diary.
Anger bubbles in my veins. My heart burns. My stomach roils. My hands shake. My head starts to pound. Embarrassment and humiliation stain my skin.
I literally don’t know what to do.
So, I do the only thing I can.
I turn and walk out of the room, slamming the door behind me.
We drove to Vegas in my rental truck, leaving at six this morning, and we arrived at lunchtime. We checked in at our hotel and then went in search of a chapel. We found one close by the hotel, so we booked with them.
We’re getting married at six p.m.
Then, we went shopping.
We bought wedding rings. I wanted to buy Evie an engagement ring, but she wouldn’t let me. She said we weren’t technically engaged since we’d just decided to get married only yesterday, and now, we were here today to do just that. She said she wanted a wedding ring. I knew it was more about not spending my money.
It bothers her, especially since it’s technically my parents’ money. It bothers me to a certain degree, but it’s the least my so-called parents can do, seeing as they pretty much made my childhood miserable, have given me nothing but grief all my life, and will no doubt cut me off after I tell them that Evie and I are married and that I’m not going to Harvard or going to work for Eric at the studio. So, I can justify their money paying for my wedding.
So, there was no engagement ring, but she couldn’t argue with a wedding ring. We picked matching platinum bands. Evie’s has diamonds set in it. I pushed for that. She would have gone with the plainest and cheapest one, if I had let her.
The jeweler said we could add an inscription on them, if we wanted, as part of the purchase price. That was something we both agreed on.
I asked Evie what we should have, and she came up with the perfect inscription.
HE IS MINE, AND I AM HIS.
So, I had the same to match. Of course, it’s worded a little differently.