I scourMason’sface for any glint of a tell as the waitress sets a colossal slice of chocte cake in front of us.
“HappyBirthday,” she says with a wide, toothy smile.
“Thankyou.”Irub my hands together, then straighten the single, pink-striped candle that was starting to tilt. “It’smy thirtieth today.”
“Oh, hey,” she chirps, her eyes lighting up, “it’s your golden birthday.”
“Mywhat?”
“It’sAprilthirtieth, and you’re turning thirty.”Shetwirls her wrist. “Hence, your golden birthday.Youonly get one.I’mJunefirst, so mine was wasted beforeIeven knew what a birthday was.”Shepokes out her tongue yfully. “Butyour golden birthday kicks off your golden year—which means thirty will be the best year of your life.”
“Ilike the sound of that.”Ilook back into my boyfriend’s deep-brown eyes. “Cheersto my<i ss="calibre2">golden</i>birthday.”Ihold up my champagne flute and tilt the rim towards the waitress. “Andthank you for being so wonderful tonight.Thesteak was superb.Youwere lovely.Thisis officially the best birthday mealI’veever had.”
Masonchuckles as he leans back in his seat and tugs on the sleeves of his navy sports coat. “That’smy girlfriend’s subtle way of telling me to leave you a generous tip this evening.”
Ince between them as they exchange a quick, knowing look.
<i ss="calibre2">Oh, it’s happening.</i>
<i ss="calibre2">Sheknows something.</i>
Thereis most definitely a hidden surprise in this slice of cake.
“Wouldyou like me to bring out the staff to sing?”
Iopen my mouth, butMasonanswers for me. “PleaseGod, no.”Heembarrasses so easily, butIdon’t mind the singing.It’sfun and silly.Thesedays we’ve hardly had time for fun and silly.Ourbusiness together is booming, which means we’re working nearly fourteen-hour days.Mybirthday celebration dinner is the first time we’ve gotten dressed up and gone out in months.Hell,Ithink tonight is worth singing about.
Ourwaitress lights my single pink candle and shes me one more genuine smile. “I’llleave you to it.”
“Damn.”Masonlets out a whisper of a chuckle as soon as she’s out of earshot. “Didwe order a slice or a whole damn cake?”Therich triple-fudge frosting matches the hue of his irises and the dense devil’s food cake is the same color as his furrowed brows.
Witha devious smile, and much toMason’shorror,Idive in with both of my forefingers, using them as chopsticks asImassacre the dessert.
<i ss="calibre2">Searching</i>…<i ss="calibre2">Wherethe hell is it?</i>
Leaveit toMasonto do something tacky as all hell like hiding an engagement ring in a slice of birthday cake.
<i ss="calibre2">Thirty</i>.I’mfreaking thirty years old today.Themoment is here and that damn ring better be somewhere in this massive piece of choctey goodness.
Ifound the ring about six months ago in our upstairs closet, hardly hidden.Itwas careless ofMason, really.We’vebeen dating for over four years.We’velived together for two.Heshould be well aware by now that once the winter weather hits,Iam religious about folding my summer tank tops and flowy skirts into tidy, color-coordinated piles and stacking them neatly on the top shelf of the closet.OfcourseInoticed the lonely ring box on the top shelf.Heprobably tossed it up there in a hurry to hide it, unaware that when someone’s standing on a small step stool, eye level with the highest shelf, the tufted ck jewelry box is impossible to miss.
I’ma good girlfriend, though.Ididn’t even peek.Slidingthe box about a foot to the left,Iwent about my business and pretendedIdidn’t notice.I’venever rushedMason.Ittook him exactly ten dates before he officially asked me to be his girlfriend.Wewaited an entire year before he introduced me to his family.Anotheryear after that we moved in together.Masonis slow and steady like a turtle.Myreliable, loving, sweet turtle whosest nameIcan’t wait to share.Ican be patient for him…
Or, at least that’s whatItold myself six months ago.
Ididn’t expect him to propose at his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary reception…althoughI’dhoped.Itwas such a beautiful night.Itwas a tad chilly on theCaliforniabeach inOctober.Masondraped his suit coat over me like the gentleman he is.Weall sat barefoot on the beach as we watched his parents dance right at twilight, listening to the low hiss of the waves crashing against the tide.Itwould’ve been the perfect time to tell me that it’s exactly what he wanted for us in forty-some years.
Butthe night came and went.Iget it.Itwas his parents’ night, not ours.
Thenthere wasThanksgiving—okay,Ididn’t have high hopes for that one.Weboth looked like potbellied pigs after threeThanksgivingdinners—his parents, my mom, and my dad’s family.Iwas so swollen from the sodium and sugar-induceda, he would’ve had extreme difficulty sliding a ring on my finger.Itwas not exactly romantic.
Christmaswas—again—<i ss="calibre2">hectic</i>.Threeseparate families crammed into one day.Onceagain, it was a no-go on the proposal.OnNewYear’sEve,Ifell asleep early.Iwas so certain he was going to pop the question that in my giddy delight,Iknocked back an entire bottle of champagne and passed out inMason’p by ten o’clock.Ikicked myself for weeks after, wondering ifIfoiled his big ns.
Valentine’sDaywas another bust.Theevening started wonderfully.Hebought me the most beautiful flowers and his card nearly had me in tears.Wewere in the car, on the way to theItalianrestaurant to make our seven o’clock reservation, when some idiot riding our ass hit us from behind.Wewere okay, butMason’sbumper and right taillight were destroyed.Theairbags deployed, meaning we were all but urged to go to the emergency room as a precaution.Needlessto say, our moods, as well as our evening, were ruined.
Sincethen, it’s been quiet.Aboutonce a week,Igrab my little step stool and check the top of the closet, hoping the box has moved.Ithadn’t budged.Iy in the same spot to the left of my neat piles of clothes…
Untiltonight.
Oh, you bet your assIchecked before tonight.<i ss="calibre2">Mythirtieth birthday</i>.Asof eight o’clock this morning, the ring box was removed from the closet, which is whyIwore my ssiest ck dress with the slit up to my knee, was extra thorough curling my hair, and spent an obnoxious amount of time on my smoky eye makeup.Icould’ve givenThomasKinkaida run for his money the wayIpainted on light and shadows, contouring and highlighting my round face into the angles of a sleek antelope.
Tonightis my goddamn night.
AndIwill take a picture to document this monumental moment.<i ss="calibre2">Iswear.</i>Yes,I’mcamera-shy.Yes,Iduck and run anytime someone pulls out the selfie stick.I’fortable in my body, butI’mnot exactly proud of it.I’mhealthy.I’mjust not a model.Letthe beautiful people be beautiful.I’llcheer them on from the sidelines.Idon’t need to be a trophy…I’mtreasured…by<i ss="calibre2">this</i>man.
“Whatare you doing?”Masonasks with wide-open, bewildered eyes asIpinch apart thest remnants of cake.Thereis a crumbly chocte graveyard in front of me…but no ring.Imurdered this dessert and now it’s time to confess.
“<i ss="calibre2">Enough</i>,”Igrumble whenIrealizeI’mleft without a proposal for the umpteenth time. “I<i ss="calibre2">know</i>,Mason.”Grabbingthe linen off myp,Iwipe off my fingers one by one. “Justask already.Ifyou’re nervous, don’t be.OfcourseI’llsay yes.”
Igive him a warm, bless-his-heart smile, but instead of relief,I’mmet with his petrified expression.
“Askwhat?”Hisface flushes and he looks incredibly nervous.
Itent my clean, but still chocte-smelling fingers, over my nose and mouth. “<i ss="calibre2">Oh.My.God</i>.”Thehorror floods through me asIimagine all the<i ss="calibre2">other</i>things that could fit in a small square ring box.Acrumpled-up ne.Earrings.Akey…to a safe…whereIcould stash my egregious embarrassment and lock it away forever.Ishould’ve opened the damn box beforeIlet my expectations run rampant. “Itwasn’t a ring?<i ss="calibre2">Shit.</i>Iam so stupid…I…Ithought—”
Masonholds up both of his hands in surrender, like he’s trying to dissuade an approaching grizzly bear. “Avery, calm down.Areyou talking about the ck box on the top shelf of our bedroom closet?”
Inod sheepishly.
“Honey, it’s a ring.”Hepats his sports coat on top of the breast pocket. “An<i ss="calibre2">engagement</i>ring.”
Ilet loose the breathIdidn’t realizeIwas holding. “Oh, thankGod.”
“Youknew?Howlong?”
Igrimace asIshrug my shoulders. “Aboutsix months.”
“<i ss="calibre2">Sixmonths</i>?” he squalls.Clearinghis throat, he leans forward. “Sixmonths?” he asks again in a lower voice, far more collected. “Andyou didn’t say anything?Younever even asked…”
Reachingover the table,Ice my fingers over his tenderly, trying to show him howIfeel with just a touch. “Ididn’t want to be demanding or steal your moment.Iknow you’re careful with all your decisions andIadmire you for it.You’remy rock, honey.”Isqueeze the tips of his fingers. “Whenyou’re sure,<i ss="calibre2">I’msure.</i>”
Masonreaches into the inside pocket of his sleek sports coat. “YouthoughtIput the ring in the cake?”
Hangingmy head,Inod.
“Andyou knew about this ring for half a year and didn’t badger me for a proposal?”Hepulls out the familiar little ck box with the thin golden lines around the seams and sets it on the table between us.Atthis point,Iknow what’sing, but there’s no controlling the nervous tingles dancing furiously around in my chest.
“Iwanted you to ask me because you wanted to, not because you felt you had to.”
Mason’seyes begin to well and hisplexion grows blotchy.Histhumb knocks nervously on the table.It’san odd response, but this is a big moment for both of us.Finally, after all the familiarity of our very tame, even-keeled rtionship, at least his behavior is…new?
“Howlong would you have waited?”
Ianswer his odd question with a tepid smile. “Whenour finish line is forever, what’s the rush?”
“You’retoo good of a woman.”Hesays it like an admission instead of admiration. “You’retoo good to me.”
Ishake my head, my hair falling into my face. “No,I’mnot—”
“Youare.”Histone is so matter-of-fact thatIhave to study his strained expression.It’sin this momentIrealize he won’t return my gaze.He’slooking in my direction but over my shoulder.Ince behind me, trying to see what’s caught his attention, but there’s nothing but an elderly couple silently enjoying their steak dinner behind us.
“Iseverything okay?”Myeyes toggle between the box on the table andMason’swandering gaze.Insteadof answering, he covers both of his eyes with his hand.Myfull stomach drops ten floors as the nerves shift from excitement to dread.
“Openit,”Masonsays, nodding to the little box.He’snormally such a gentleman.WhenIsaw the ring for the first time,Ithought it’d be between his fingers as he was down on one knee.Mason’savoiding the box like it’s on fire. “Please.”
Ipry the box open.It’sreluctant, like a mshell unwilling to lose its pearl, but the prize inside…holy hell. “OhmyGod,”Imumble asIfree the ring from its resting ce nestled inside the tiny plush velvet pillow. “Mason, this is too much…this is what?Twocarats?It’sstunning.Soelegant.”
It’sa simple tinum band with a brilliant round diamond.Thecut and rity seem wless.Iknow it’s far more than he can afford.MasonandIshare everything—a home, a business—soIknow he stretched the limits with a ring like this.Islide the ring over my finger and it halts at my knuckle.Ignoringthe pain, willing my finger to instantly slim,Iforce the ring over the thickest part of my finger.
“Oh, wait!”Ipalm my forehead. “Honey,I’mso sorry.Youdidn’t even ask yet.”Itry to pull the ring off, but it’s useless.Itmight as well be superglued on. “Shit.It’sstuck.”Ichuckle and shrug helplessly.<i ss="calibre2">That’sokay.I’mnever taking it off.</i>“It’dprobably be a good time to ask me to marry you now.”
Hedoesn’t match my humor.Atear dribbles down his cheek.Mason’snot cold and callous, but he certainly isn’t one for public disys of affection…or unguarded emotion.
“Mason, what’s—”
“Ican’t do this.”Hisbreath is ragged as a single tear turns into a small stream.Wipingthe wetness from his cheeks with the back of his thumb, he adds, “I’m—I’mso sorry,Avery.Ilove you so much, butI…Ireally was going to ask…but…seeing it…”Hiseyes lock on the ring choking my finger. “Notlike this.I’mso sorry.”Hecovers his face, hiding his tormented expression. “I’mso, so sorry.”
Thehairs on the back of my neck rise like an animal that senses danger. “What’swrong?”Itry to reach for his hand. “Ifyou’re not ready, we don’t have to rush.”
Hequickly ces his hands in hisp, safe from my clutches.
“Ithink we’re over.”Hecloses his eyes and braces like he’s paused at the top of a rollercoaster. “Iwant to break up.”
Theworld stops.Everybodyin this fancy steakhouse freezes in ce.Thesound of thunder roars around us.Lightningstrikes, splitting the ground, and from the crack, fire emerges.Ormaybe it’s only in my head.Fornow,Ijust focus on breathing.<i ss="calibre2">Inand out.</i>Onebreath at a time.
Masonwatches my stunned eyes and tries to fill the silence. “I…Ireally do love you…Ijust…we’re…”
I’mhaving trouble making sense of the moment.Hisstammering sounds garbled in my head.I’mwearing a ring…but we’re over?<i ss="calibre2">Whatthe fuck?…It’smy birthday…Ican’t breathe.</i>
“We’rewhat?”Iforce the words out in a stato. “Tellme.”
“Canwe go home?”Rotatinghis head, he takes in a cursory nce around the fancy steakhouse, ensuring no one’s listening. “Please?”
“No.”Ishake my head and deliver my message clearly and curtly. “Starttalking.”
Heshrugs his shoulders and holds up his palms to the ceiling. “Oursex life is…”Heshakes his head, his grim expression saying everything he can’t.
Iquickly defend myself. “I’vetried.You’rethe one who’s always tired.”
Hedrags both hands over his red, splotchy face. “Lately,Ihaven’t<i ss="calibre2">wanted</i>to have sex with you.”Hiswords are like an uppercut to my ego, then a follow-up sucker punch to my heart. “Please,” he says again, studying my face as intently asIwas scouring his earlier.
“Pleasewhat?”
“Canwe leave?Canwe at least just talk in the car?”
Mythroat is dry, soIreach for my water, but my hand doesn’t cooperate.Mylimbs are numb.Everythingis heavy, even my eyelids.Blinkingbes a chore.Ignoringhis request,Iask, “Didyou cheat on me?”
Heburies his face in his hands. “No,” he mumbles.
Inod in relief.Idon’t know why it makes it better, but at least—
“ButIwanted to.”
Myeyes snap back toMason, who hangs his head.
“I’msorry.IfI’mbeing honest…there’s someone elseI’minterested in.<i ss="calibre2">Nothinghappened.</i>”
“Yet,”Iwhisper, feeling the burn in my chest likeIjust took a straight swig ofJameson. “You’releaving me for<i ss="calibre2">someone</i>?”
“Thisis about us,Avery.I’mtrying to be truthful.Wehave a business together, we live together, andIdon’t want to string you along.Yes, there’s someoneI’minterested in, butIwould never ever cheat on you.She’snot important.”
“Yet,”Iwhisper again.
Mydemeanor is eerily calm.Masonlooks concerned at my collectedness.Ishould be crying, blubbering…maybe throwing something at his head.Butfor some reason,I’mvery interested in the logistics at the moment.
“What’sher name?”Iask.
Masonhas the audacity to roll his eyes at me. “Doyou really want to do this?It’sonly going to hurt your feelings.”
“<i ss="calibre2">Youbrought her up</i>,”Ihiss. “You’vejust humiliated me and broken my heart on my birthday.Theleast you could do is answer my questions.”
Hiseyes shift ufortably. “Maura.”
“Where’dyou meet her?Andwhen?”
“I, uh…”Hispleading eyes beg me to stop my interrogation, but whenIraise my brows at him, he answers. “She’sa trainer.Imet her at the gym.”
Ofcourse he did.MasonandIlive together, work together, eat together, and sleep together.Theonly time we’re not attached at the hip is when he’s killing himself at the gym.Ialways thought we were a good bnce.Myface is soft and a little round.Mason’sjaw is chiseled and cut in clean angles.Ilove the feel of his strong arm against the soft slopes of my curves asInestle into his hard stomach and muscr chest.Ilike how it feels when he holds me at night.Ithought he liked the wayIfeel too.
Irealize it’s been a while since we’ve had sex, but we built a brand management business from the ground up.Wescored our first major contract with aFortune500pany.We’reoverloaded, overwhelmed, and have had more instant sess than we could’ve dreamed of.<i ss="calibre2">Ithought we were just tired.</i>
“Whendid you meet her?”
Hiseyes stay locked on hisp. “RightafterIbought that ring.Avery,I’msorry.Buthonestly, are you happy?Areyou excited about the idea of a future together or tolerating it?”
“Tolerating?”<i ss="calibre2">That’swhat you’ve been doing with our rtionship?Toleratingit?</i>
Iignore the twisting and writhing in my gut, telling meIdon’t want to dig deeper.Nomore truths tonight—Ican’t handle it.ButIignore my instincts. “Areyou not attracted to me?”
“Youare the<i ss="calibre2">perfect</i>woman in every single way…”Heducks his head, ashamed. “Exceptthe way that matters to me the most.Itried to get past it.Youwere always on the cusp of being beautiful, but then the business started andIhandled my stress by working out and you handled it by…”
<i ss="calibre2">Eating.</i>It’sthe word he wants to say.Butwhile he already dug his grave,Idon’t think he’s dumb enough to crawl into the open casket.
Inarrow my eyes. “Igained eight pounds,Mason.”<i ss="calibre2">Fuckyou.</i>
“It’snot just the weight.It’show you dress…or don’t.Younever put on makeup.Welive off of garbage takeout food.We’resloppy.There’snothing sexy or appealing about the way we are around each other andIcouldn’t say anything without sounding like an ass.Iknow how this all sounds, butIcan’t help howIfeel.Iwas panicking aboutmitting to our lifestyle forever.Itwouldn’tst.We’dend up divorced in a few years, and isn’t that worse than this?”
Iraise my voice, incredulous. “<i ss="calibre2">Worsethan pretending like you loved me for four years</i>?”
Heblows out a breath and checks over his shoulder, seeing if my loud response has attracted any attention. “Iwasn’t pretending.Iloved y—I<i ss="calibre2">love</i>you.Ijust don’t think we’re meant for each other.Avery,Inever wanted to hurt you.”Heactually looks sincere, which makes this entire conversation ten times worse. “ButI’drather waste four years of your life than leave a marriage.I…um…I’mtrying to do the right thing.”
“It’smy birthday.”Ilet out a bizarre, raspy chuckle. “Youchose to do this on my<i ss="calibre2">birthday</i>?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head adamantly. “Ididn’t choose anything…Ihad every intention of proposing tonight.Ireally did.Ijust saw that ring on your finger andIcouldn’t deny the truth anymore.”Heholds up his hands, showing me his palms across the table. “I’mso sorry.Ihate myself for this.IwishIcould just change howIfeel.”
Takingin a deep breath,Istare right at the shriveled-looking man across the table, who not five minutes ago looked like the man of my dreams.
“Please,” he says.
“Pleasewhat?”Ihiss as the dull background noise of the restaurant resumes.Theearth slowly but surely begins to rotate again as my racing heartbeat calms.
Hesps his hands together like he’s praying desperately. “Canwe talk about this at home?Wedon’t have to do anything right away.Wehave a two-bedroom apartment.Wecan take some space…figure out the business.Thiscan all be amicable.”
Ire at him. “Youwant this to be amicable?”Mywords are cool, but there’s fire in my eyes, and he’s about to burn.
“OrIcan stay at a friend’s house for a while and give you your space until we figure out the next steps.Howeveryou want to handle this,Avery…Iwant to be supportive.”
“Afriend’s house?”ugh. “Youcondescending piece of shit.”WhydoIhave a sneaking suspicionIknow exactly what friend he’d like to stay with. “Youdid cheat on me, didn’t you?”
Heshakes his head. “No,IsaidI<i ss="calibre2">wanted</i>to, butIwould never.Irespect you too much.”
“Seriously?That’syour grand gesture?”Iwiden my eyes. “Well,<i ss="calibre2">thank you</i>for only<i ss="calibre2">wanting</i>to cheat on me.Congrattionson your self-restraint.”
Helooks left and right, clearly ufortable having this conversation in public, but my limbs still aren’t working andI’mglued to this chair, soI’llhave to wait out the shock here a bit longer.
I’dmit, our sex life has beenckluster.Ithought it was a mixture of the honeymoon phase ending, the stress of our business, and the aftermath of getting reallyfortable with someone.Ithought hisck of sex drive was odd, butIdidn’t realize it wasn’t the drive that was the problem…it was apparently the vehicle.
“Whateveryou need to say…say it.Ideserve it.”Hestupidly holds his hand out.
<i ss="calibre2">I’mnot touching that.</i>
“I’msorry.AndI’llsay it a thousand times again.Ireally wanted this to end up differently.”This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.
<i ss="calibre2">Ishe tearing up?</i>
Myhead is spinning.He’strying to be apologetic, but everything he says slices me in a new spot.Heis implyingI’mbig, but it’s funny—at the moment,I’venever felt smaller in my life.Sosmall in fact,Icould slip right through the wooden floorboards of this luxury steakhouse, never to be seen again.
Iyank again on the ring on my finger.Itstill won’t budge, but at least my limbs seem operable again. “It’sfucking stuck,”Imumble.
“Keepit,” he says quickly.
“What?”Iscrew up my face.
Hisbrows are furrowed in anguish. “Idon’t…know how else to apologize.”
Idon’t even recognize him.Howquickly a man can go from the love of your life to aplete stranger.
Heactually looks relieved asIpush away my te of chocte cake crumbles and scoot out my chair.Idon’t exactly have a n, butIcollect my clutch and rise.WhenIwalked in tonight,Ifelt like a goddamn piece.Aknockout.Atotal ten.I’mleaving in ugly, fat humiliation…alone.Howcould this man’s perception of me so quickly change my own view of myself?
Ipause byMasonand watch his face shrivel up in concern when he realizesI’mleaving without him.
“Areyou going to call for a ride home?” he asks, looking me up and down.
“Whathome?”Iwhisper.Iclear my throat and enunciate. “<i ss="calibre2">We</i>no longer have a home.”
Hecatches my hand asItry to pass him. “Aver—”
Irip out of his grip.Hishands feel cold and mmy, andIdon’t want them anywhere near me. “Don’tyou dare follow me.”
Iflee to the restaurant entrance, maneuvering between handsomely dressed waiters carryingrge trays of fancy dishes.Idart past our waitress on the way out and force a small smile asIsay thank you and good evening.She’llclue in once she seesMasonalone at the table, waiting for the bill.
Iburst through the ss doors and into the crisp night air feeling like a free bird with clipped wings.ugh to myself asIthink about how abruptly the sky fell on such a pleasant evening.Inever saw iting.Ididn’t suspect a damn thing.
<i ss="calibre2">Goldenbirthday…golden year…</i>
Myass.