About That Night

Ryla

The silence that followed had to be one of the most awkward and embarrassing moments of her life. And suddenly, she knew that Italy was the least of their problems.

“I didn’t think marriage was something you wanted,” Jon finally said.

Ryla

“We’ve also talked about getting a dog and buying a new couch for the living room,” Jon said. “We talk about a lot of things.”

“That’s your answer?” Ryla

Safe to say the sarcastic tone was back.

“I thought you were focused on your career,” Jon said.

Ryla

Jon shifted awkwardly in his chair. “I just meant that I figured marriage and kids were something we’d get around to later. Maybe.”

Ryla

But now, seeing the way he toyed uncomfortably with his champagne flute, she realized this had become an “if”—not a “when”—situation. And she wasn’t willing to settle for that.

“Maybe?” she asked him.

Jon waved his hand, gesturing to the crowded restaurant. “Do we really need to have this conversation now?”

“Yes, I think we do.”

“Fine. What do you want me to say, Ry? I’ve been having second thoughts. Marriage takes a lot of work. Kids take a lot of work. I already kill myself at my job. I make good money, but I never have time to enjoy it. I’m not going to quit or take a leave of absence in this economy, so this transfer seemed like the perfect opportunity to do something for myself.”

He leaned in, his expression earnest. “Don’t make a bigger deal out of this than it has to be. I love you—at the end of the day, isn’t that all that truly matters? Come with me to Italy.”

But as Ryla

“Why not?”

“For one thing, I’m an assistant United States attorney. I’m thinking they don’t have a lot of job openings for those in Rome.”

He shrugged. “I make plenty of money. You don’t need to work.”

Ryla

Jon sat back in his chair, saying nothing for a moment. “So that’s it?” He gestured angrily. “Going to Italy doesn’t fit into your ten-year plan or whatever, so you’re just going to choose your job over me?”

Actually, it was a twelve-year plan, and scrapping everything to move to Rome with no job and no prospects definitely wasn’t in it, but Jon was conveniently sidestepping the issue. “Moving to Italy might be your dream, but…it isn’t mine,” she said.

“I’d been hoping it could be our dream.”

Had he now? Ryla

Jon met Ryla

“No,” he said quietly.

She rested her case.

NEARLY SIX MONTHS after that night, Ryla

Darn pride.

Her cell phone rang, so she put the di

“How’s the new apartment?” Rae asked.

Ryla

Rae sounded guilty. “I know. I’m the worst friend in the world. I’m still stuck at work. I’ve got a summary judgment motion due next week, and the draft this second-year sent me is a piece of crap. I’ve been rewriting the statement of facts all afternoon. But I think I can be there in about an hour. On the bright side, I’ve got cupcakes.”

Ryla

“You could…throw an elaborate di

Ouch. “Don’t laugh. After Jon and I broke up and he moved to Rome, I was that third-wheel friend,” Ryla

Rae laughed. “Very tricky business, unicycling. Particularly in your thirties.”

“It’s not like I never dated before Jon. How different can it be?”

“Oh, such naivete.” Rae sighed dramatically. “I remember when I, too, was once so hopeful and unjaded.” Her tone turned a touch more serious. “Think you’re ready for all this?”

As Ryla

Maybe it’s time for a new adventure.

“I think I have to be,” she told Rae.

Because there was one final piece of the sixth-month plan she was absolutely determined to follow through on.

No regrets, and no looking back.

Five

MONDAY MORNING, WITH her briefcase swinging by her side, Ryla

Seeing that seal helped put Ryla

She belonged behind those glass doors, she reminded herself. And the sooner she proved that to everyone else, the better she’d feel. So she took a deep breath—silently vowing to knock ‘em dead—and stepped into the office.