Kate looked across the room at the man kneeling in front of her – his arms outstretched, his chest heaving with emotion.
He’d used the same words he said to her the first time he proposed – or almost the same – but the expression on his face bore no resemblance. He was livid with anger. Taunting her. Look, he was saying with his eyes. Look at what you could have had back then. Look at what you threw away.
As if she needed reminding. As if she'd never wondered what could have been, if she'd stayed with him all those years ago. As if she'd never lain awake, tortured with regret, every time she stood by at another friend's wedding – watching another one float away down the aisle into her happily-ever-after.
Kate snapped the ring box closed and jerked her hand away as if she had burned it, letting the box and its contents fall to the floor. They both followed its descent with their eyes, watching it hit the carpet and bounce once, twice, before coming to rest at her feet.
Aidan dropped his arms to his sides in defeat. He lifted his eyes to meet hers again, but she merely shook her head before turning without a word and heading toward the bedroom.
“Kate!” he called after her. “Goddammit Kate!”
She had already hoisted her suitcase onto the bed and was hastily throwing her things inside when he came into the room.
“What?” he said to her turned back. “You’re not even going to give me an answer?”
“If you think yelling at me is the way to get me to say yes—“
“Well I tried the nice romantic way before and that didn’t get me very far, did it?”
“Just—goodbye.” She moved across the room to gather an armful of clothes hanging up in the closet.
“Where are you going?”
“Airport.”
“Kate—“
She held up a hand to silence him. “I need to go home now.”
Kate heard the quaver in her voice as she spoke, and she cursed herself for her weakness. She would not cry, she silently commanded herself. No matter what he said. No matter how much it hurt. She would not let him see her cry.
Aidan watched for a moment as she continued throwing her things into her suitcase. All the anger he’d felt a moment ago was draining away now as the realization of what he’d just done hit him with full force. He was supposed to take another week. Woo her. Set the mood. Pick the perfect moment. Say the perfect words. Not this. Not like this. He was supposed to have another week.
He walked over to the bed and put his hand on top of the open suitcase, blocking her from putting in the clothing she was trying to pack.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s almost midnight. No one’s going to the airport tonight.”
“Then I’ll go to a hotel.”
“You’re in a hotel.”
“Then I’ll go to another one!”
“Katie, please—” He broke off, his voice shaking as he reached out and put his hand on her wrist. She looked up at him in surprise and saw his eyes red-rimmed now with the same misery she was trying so desperately to hold back. She couldn’t control it any longer – not when she saw it reflected back on his own face – and she felt herself crumple as the tears began to fall.
“Katie,” he whispered. “Katie, Katie.” He sat down on the bed and gathered her into his arms. She buried her face into the crook of his neck as the uncontrolled sobs began to rack her body.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Oh, Katie, I’m sorry. That’s not how it was supposed to go.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she choked out.
“Please don’t go. I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she repeated, her voice a little steadier now. “It doesn’t matter how it came out. It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not.”
She pulled her tear-streaked face away from his shoulder and looked up at him. “Yes, it is, Aidan.”
“No,” he said, squeezing her body against his. “No, it’s not. It’s not. It’s not. It’s not.” He chanted the words, and it almost made her smile to see the look on his face – like a small child refusing to accept the fact that it’s past his bedtime.
She shifted her weight so that she was sitting more squarely in his lap, and she felt calmer as she curled her body against him. “You can’t force a square peg into a round hole,” she said to him softly.
He buried his face in the hair on top of her head, and she felt him take in a long, shaky breath before he replied. “I won't let you do this."
She started to shake her head, but he continued speaking before she could interrupt. “I won't," he said. "I can't. I can’t go back to what my life was like without you in it.”
“Aidan—“
“You can’t either,” he continued, his face still pressed to the top of her head. “You think you can just get on a plane and fly home and pretend like none of this ever happened, but you can’t. You can’t go back. You love me. I know you do. You never stopped, did you? Not for one single day. You just told yourself you stopped, but it wasn’t true.”
“It’s too late,” she said again, but he kept going as if she hadn’t spoken, his words picking up speed as he continued.
“You know it wasn’t true. How long are you going to go on lying to yourself? Your whole life? It’s not going to work, Kate. You had me fooled for a while there, but I know the truth now. I won't let you pretend anymore that you're not in love with me.”
“I don’t want to be in love with you.”
“Well that’s too bad because you are! And you’re not going to throw that away. I won’t let you. If it were just you – just your own life at stake – I don’t know, maybe I would let you throw it away. But it’s my life too. And I need you. Do you understand? I can’t live the rest of my life like I’m a 23 year old. I’m ready to be a grown-up now. I’m ready to wear blazers to dinner. I’m ready to be tired and head home by ten o’clock at night. I’m ready to buy a real house with more than one bedroom. I want five bedrooms. Six bedrooms. I want to fill it up with kids. I’m ready for all of that.”
“But that’s not your life!” she protested. “You can say all that, Aidan, but you know that’s not your life. Not really. Your life is parties and club-hopping and swimsuit models plopping themselves into your lap—“
“I didn’t want to go clubbing,” he argued. “I hate that shit. We went to the club because you wanted to go.”
“Me?”
“I just wanted to go home and play Scrabble.”
She stopped short, forgetting what she was about to say, and raised her eyebrows at him instead. “Scrabble?”
“Something like that.”
“Aidan, you suck at Scrabble.”
He smiled back at her crookedly. “Yes,” he said, “but I enjoy getting my ass kicked. I have a masochistic streak.”
She chuckled. “So what, then? Honestly. You’re never going out again? You’re just going to order us a couple Snuggies, and we’ll spend all our time at home playing Scrabble?”
He shrugged. “Maybe the occasional Lakers' game.”
“I hate basketball.”
“Well I hate Snuggies.”
She laughed again.
There was a tissue box resting on the bedside table, and Aidan reached out and grabbed a handful of tissues, handing half of them to her and keeping the rest for himself. “Can we just take a mulligan?” he asked, as she sniffled and mopped at her face.
“A mulligan?”
“A do-over,” he explained.
“I know what a mulligan is.”
“It’s a golf thing.”
She shook her head at him, but she was smiling softly. “I hate golf.”
“Have you ever played golf?”
“No,” she replied, her smile widening.
He grinned back at her. “Maybe I should take you golfing. That’s a very mature thing to do, right?”
“At least Halley and Zoe can’t accuse me of turning you into a golfer.”
“What? Zoe too? Did she say something about my blazer?”
Kate shrugged.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Kate rolled her eyes. “They were talking about me. They didn’t know I could hear.”
“About the blazer?”
“No, about the fact that I’m too old for you.”
“Well, that’s not really their call, is it?” He looked away, and Kate saw his eyebrows drawing together in anger. She reached up and touched his cheek, turning his face back toward her.
“I’m not sure they’re wrong, Aidan,” she said.
“Of course they’re wrong!”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I'll give it another chance, OK? But you have to give it more time. You can’t keep proposing.”
“I don’t need more time.”
“Well, I do!”
He took a deep breath. “OK.” He nodded. “OK. So let’s just take the next week and—“
“No,” she interrupted. “You can’t expect me to spend a week and play some golf and pretend like that’s going to decide anything.”
Aidan felt himself starting to give way to panic. He knew she was right. One week. It wasn’t enough time. But a week was all he had before she was going away again. “So how much time are we talking about?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging helplessly.
“Six weeks?”
“No!” she exclaimed. “Not six weeks. Maybe six months. Minimum!”
He felt all the air go out of his lungs again. Six months? She may as well have said forever.
“I don’t think that’s unreasonable,” she continued. “Just slow down, and if you still feel this way in six months then maybe – maybe I’ll think about it.”
Maybe she would think about it. In six months. “Awesome.”
“I’m sorry!” she replied. “But you’re being crazy! People don’t just get engaged after a week or two.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “No. That’s cool. That’s fair. I get it.” He was looking away from her again, staring at the half-full suitcase still laid out on the other side of the bed. “OK," he said to the suitcase. "So let’s say, six months from today at the stroke of midnight, if you want to marry me then meet me at the top of the Empire State Building.”
“Aidan…”
“No?” He looked back at her.
“This isn’t a movie.”
“No, no, I've got it,” he said, raising a finger and pointing it at her chest. “Even better. Let's make it a pact. If we’re both still single when we turn 35, then we promise to marry each other.”
She put her hand over his and gently lowered the finger that he was holding out. He wasn’t being serious, was he? He was looking at her so intensely, like he was willing her with his eyes to say yes. She stared back at him, trying to read his expression. She watched with relief as he shifted his eyes away after a moment, breaking into an uncertain laugh.
He was joking, she reassured herself. He was just joking around again. “What movie was that?” she asked.
“My Best Friend’s Wedding.”
“Oh perfect. That one had Julia and Cameron.”
He smirked at her. “Don’t forget Rupert Everett as the handsome gay confidant,” he said, watching her try and fail to suppress her laughter.
She was smiling up at him. He forced himself to smile back, despite the heavy feeling that had settled into his chest. Six months, he thought. At least she wasn't crying anymore. At least she wasn’t packing.
He was going to have to go along with it. Bide his time. Bite his tongue. Somehow figure out a way to cobble together some time – a night here, a weekend there – when their schedules would allow them to be in the same city. Figure out a way to survive all the time apart without her pulling away from him again. Figure out a way to keep breathing and not be crushed to death beneath the unendurable weight of the uncertainty.
“Aidan,” she chuckled. “Please tell me you never had a thing with Rupert Everett.”
He ducked his head and forced himself to laugh. “No comment.”