I shake my head and smile at him. “Do you seriously need me to stroke your ego?”
He flashes me the grin I’ve seen splashed across billboards and popping up regularly in my social media feed.
I pull him close and breathe. “Next time you have to go film in some far-flung place, you’ve got to time it for the summer so I can come with you.”
He takes my can of soda in his hands and takes a sip. “Let’s go over there.” He leads me over to the railing overlooking the ocean, aka the most romantic spot on the pier.
I glance at him, nervous, my heart hammering in my chest. His features have tightened, showing me he’s tense, too. Could this be it? The moment he finally asks me the question I’ve wanted him to ask for so long now? The question he promised me he would ask me one day, when the time was right, when we were established in our careers?
Finally, we are established in our careers. I’ve been teaching for a few years and Dex has worked and worked and worked to get where he is now. It’s been years of acting training, auditions, small parts and commercials that were so full of promise, but went nowhere. There were long periods of time when he was out of work, and we had to survive on my meager teacher’s salary. How did we handle it? Debt, that’s how. And it had to be in my name, because with such an erratic work schedule, Dex’s credit rating is a joke.
None of that matters anymore. Not tonight.
He stares out at the sunset, glowing vibrant orange and red against the darkened water of the horizon, the clouds tinged with a soft purple hue.
I turn to face him, taking his hand in mine. “It’s great to see you,” I say again, hoping he can overcome his nerves quickly enough to propose to me before the sun is gone.
Sunsets are surprisingly fast, you know.
He clears his throat. “You know how you’ve got to say something, and you can’t quite bring yourself to say it because it means so much?”
Oh, my gosh. This is really it!
I offer him the sympathetic look I’ve used more than a few times on my students when they’ve scraped a knee or messed up an art project. “It’s okay, Dex, say what you need to say,” I reply in soothing tones that belie the dance party of excitement happening in my belly.
“You’re right. I need to just spit it out.”
“Well, don’t spit it out exactly. This kind of thing needs to be finessed. Don’t you think?” I shoot him an encouraging smile, and all the while my heart threatens to burst from my chest, right into the Pacific Ocean below our feet.
With a quick rub to the back of his neck, he begins. “We’ve known each other for a long time. Since we were kids, really. I know we always said we’d be together forever, and I want you to know that I love you, Harps. I really do.”
I beam at him. This is perfect. Perfect!
“The thing is…” He swallows.
“Yes?” I ask in a breathless voice.
“I…well…”
Just say it! Say it!
“I kinda met someone.”
What now?
The world around us slows.
My smile slips. “I’m not following.”
At least I hope I’m not following.
“I’ve, you know, met someone else.”
Does he mean what I think he means?
No. Surely not, because that would make no sense.
“Harps? You okay? You’ve gone all fishlike.” He gestures at my face.
“Fishlike?” I repeat dumbly, not quite believing my ears about the I’ve met someone else part, not the fact I look like a fish right now, allegedly.
“Yeah. Your eyes are all big and round and your mouth is—”
“Forget the fish thing,” I blurt in irritation, because seriously? Who cares what I look like right now? “You’ve met someone else? What does that even mean? You’ve met someone else, or you’ve met someone else?”
He furrows his brow. “I don’t get the difference.”
“The difference,” I begin in a high-pitched tone that tells the world exactly how I’m feeling about this new turn of events, “is that the first one suggests you’ve just met some random person off the street who means nothing to you or to me or anyone else, and the other suggests…that…you…”
My throat dries. I can’t get the words out.
“I’ve met a woman,” he clarifies. “She’s my co-star. Serenity Delaney. She’s on the billboard with me. You know the one near your school? She’s the one with the catlike eyes, although they aren’t catlike in real life. They’re totally regular eyes.”
I gawk at him.
A fresh grin claims his face, completely at odds with my inner turmoil. “Serenity’s amazing. She’s strong and confident and such a great actress. Or am I supposed to say ‘actor?’ I dunno.” He shrugs. “My point is, we kinda fell for each other and, well, you’d really like her, Harps.”
“I’d like her?” I guffaw. I’m certain my eyes have surpassed fish and graduated to fully fledged startled frog.
“Come on. Be cool.” He places his warm palm on my arm, giving me an electric jolt, sparking me into action.
I shove his hand away. “Don’t you ‘Harps’ me,” I spit at him, vaguely aware of a growing crowd listening in, but not caring one bit. “Are you trying to tell me you’re with this Serenity person now and…and—” The words stick in my throat like gum in hair. “Are you breaking up with me?” My voice is small, hollow as my heart bunches into a tight ball in my chest.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to say that my world is about to come crashing down around me. That he’s leaving me. That we’re over. Done.
He hangs his head and lets out a heavy breath before he looks back up at me. “Harps, I’m sorry. I didn’t plan it, but Serenity and me, we’ve got this thing between us, and we agree it’s bigger than we could ever have imagined. Like super big. Supernova big.” He places both hands on the bare skin of my arms. I stiffen. “I know I’m hurting you, and I’m so sorry, but I also know that if you love me—truly, truly love me—you’ll let me go.”
I gawk at him.
Did he really just say that?
Did he really just say I should let him go to be with someone else?
“I need you to know that what we had was so special to me. Is so special to me. I’ll never forget you, Harps. You were my first love. I’ll always remember you.”
“You’ll always remember me?” I choke out, my rising anger flashing hot. “Is that supposed to make this all better for me? Because you need to know that it doesn’t. No siree.”
No siree? Great, I’ve been dumped and turned 75, all within one conversation.
Dex’s gaze darts around the crowd. “Harps, come on. You’re making a scene.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “I’m making a scene? Oh, I’m so sorry.” I place a hand over my heart and simper at him. “Would you prefer if when you dumped me and ruined my life I smiled and said, ‘sure thing, honey, anything you want’?”
Okay, maybe ruined my life is a step too far, but I thought my boyfriend was going to propose to me tonight, not dump me for some woman with an entirely inappropriate name considering the current circumstances and then expect me to be fine with it because she’s allegedly so dang great.