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“Oh, Luke!” I cry. “You won’t believe it. But she loved it. Absolutely loved it. And Monsieur and Madame Henri gave me a Christmas bonus, and Jill invited me to her wedding—too bad you’re going to miss it. But the important thing is, she really, really loved the dress. And she looked great in it, too. No one will be calling her ‘Blubber’ ever again.”
“That’s great, Lizzie!” Luke has poured us each a glass of wine. It’s only then that I realize the lights are off—all except the Christmas-tree lights and a few candles. He’s set up a cheese board and some bowls of snacks he knows I like—spicy nuts and candied orange peel. It’s so festive—and romantic.
Then he says, as he hands me one of the glasses of wine he’s poured, “I couldn’t have picked a more perfect gift for you then. Do you want to open it now?”
Couldn’t have picked a more perfect gift for me? Because everything else is going so perfectly and proposing to me will just make my evening that much better? That’s the only thing I can think of that he could mean.
“Of course I want to open it now,” I cry. “You know I’ve been dying to ever since you put it there!”
“Well, have at it,” Luke says. Which is a strange thing to say to someone you’re about to propose to under a Christmas tree. But whatever.
Taking my wineglass with me, I go to sit on the parquet beside my gift and wait until he’s seated by his.
“Do you want to go first?” I ask, thinking that my gift to him is really going to be a letdown after the tears of joy that are going to follow his to me. But he says, “No, you first. I’m so excited to see what you think,” so I shrug and dig in.
When I peel off the wrapping paper to find beneath it a giant box that says “Quantum-Futura CE-200” on it, I begin to lose my happy, floaty feeling. But when I see that the picture on the box is of a sewing machine, the floating feeling goes away entirely.
And when I look up questioningly and see Luke beaming at me from across his wineglass, not looking at all like he’s about to propose, I actually start feeling… well. Pretty bad.
“It’s a sewing machine!” he cries. “To replace the one my dad broke. But this one is way better than the one he kicked. The lady at the store said it’s the top of the line. You can do all sorts of embroidery and stuff with it. It comes with a minicomputer inside!”
I blink down at the gigantic box. An investment for my future. That’s what he’d said.
And that’s what he’d given me, all right.
And before I know what’s happening, I’m crying.
Weddings are supposed to be a happy time. That’s why no one, least of all the bride, ever wants to admit that sometimes—well, weddings just don’t happen. Maybe the groom gets cold feet. Maybe the bride does. Maybe the couple decides the timing isn’t right after all. Maybe a beloved family member passes away, making everyone uncomfortable with the idea of holding a celebration during a time of mourning. In any event, things happen.
That’s why the savvy bride purchases wedding insurance. Like travel insurance, wedding insurance will guarantee that you don’t lose the entirety of your deposits on things like venues, cakes, photographers, food suppliers, wedding limos, flowers, honeymoon, even your gown…
It’s your wedding day—often the most important day of any girl’s life. Don’t you want the comfort of knowing that if something goes wrong, you won’t be out a fortune? You’ve already lost the guy… why lose your hard-earned money, too?
I advise all my clients to purchase wedding insurance… and you should, too.
LIZZIE NICHOLS DESIGNS™
Chapter 23
Love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea.
— Henry Fielding (1707–1754), English writer
“What’s the matter?” Luke cries, watching me break down. “What… did I get the wrong one? Why are you crying?”
“No—” I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m crying in front of him. I can’t believe I don’t have better control of myself. This is ridiculous. It’s not his fault. It’s my fault. I’m the one who got the ridiculous idea that when he said my gift was an investment for my future, that he meant… that he meant…
“That I meant what?” he asks bewilderedly.
And then, to my horror, I realize I’ve been speaking out loud. No! I’ve been so good! I’ve been so careful! I’ve laid out so many tiny bread crumbs for him to follow! I can’t bash him over the head with a mallet now. Not when he’s come so close—
“That you were giving me an engagement ring,” I hear myself sob, “and that you were going to ask me to marry you!”
There. I’ve done it. It’s out. It’s floating out in the universe now, for anyone to hear—even Luke.
And, just as I’d known, deep down—just as I’d always known, somehow, even before Shari and Chaz tried to warn me—he’s horrified.
“Marry you?” he bursts out. “Lizzie… I mean, you know I love you. But… we’ve only been going out for six months!”
Six months. Six years. It doesn’t make any difference. I realize that now. There are some woodland creatures that, no matter how many bread crumbs you leave out for them… no matter how patiently you wait… are never going to be yours. They’ll never let themselves be tamed. Because they prefer to run wild and free in the forest.
And that’s what Luke is. Everyone else could see it. Just not me. I’m the only idiot who refused to acknowledge the truth. That he’s happy to live with me now. But not forever. Six months. Six years. He’s never going to let himself get tied down.
At least not by me.
“I thought we were having fun,” Luke is saying. He appears to be genuinely upset. “I love living with you, it’s been great—but marriage. I mean, Lizzie, I can’t even see where I’m going to be next year, let alone four years from now, when I’m finished with medical school—if I even get into medical school! Which I don’t even know if I will! How can I ask you to marry me? How can I ask anyone to marry me? I’m not even sure—I mean, I can’t say for sure if I’ll ever get married. I don’t know if marriage is something that will ever even be on my radar.”
“Oh,” I say quietly.
Because what else can I say to this? Obviously, this is a conversation we ought to have had some time ago. I mean, if he isn’t even sure marriage is something he wants down the line… not just with me, but with anyone …
Except that maybe he might have realized it was something he wanted if I’d played it cooler. But of course now I’ve ruined everything by opening my big mouth. If I had just hung on for a bit longer…
But no. A year from now… two… he’ll still be saying the same thing. I can see that by the panic in his eyes. It’s completely different than what I see in John MacDowell’s eyes when he looks at Jill. Or even what I used to see in Chaz’s eyes when he looked at Shari.
How could I have been so blind? How could I not have seen that that look was never in Luke’s eyes?
“It’s okay,” I say gently. I’m so tired. So, so tired. I’ve been working so hard. And tomorrow I have to get on a plane and fly home.
Thank God. All I want, at that moment, is to be home and in my mother’s arms… the way Jill flew to her mother’s arms, only for a different reason. Jill’s was joyful.
Mine? Not so joyful.
“God, Lizzie,” Luke is saying. “I feel so terrible. If there was ever anything, anything I did to make you think—but I mean, you told me that thing, about how you want to open your own shop. So I just assumed you felt the same way. That marriage wasn’t even in the equation. Because supposing we get married and I get into medical school out in California? You’d have to give up the shop! You wouldn’t want to do that. Give up your business, for me? Of course not. Or supposing after I graduate, I get some job in like Vermont or something… Would you want to go to Vermont with me?”