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Noelle loves me, and I love her. However, I wish she would’ve respected the space I requested. It’s been a battle for years, her bamboozling me into looking at engagement rings or sending me cute proposal ideas. She’s the one who issued the ultimatum, and now she’s here, forcing my hand. This week was about figuring all this out without her breathing down my neck, and now a huge complication has been thrown in.
I want to throw up thinking about telling her.
When I first saw Noelle at a party, I was drawn to her and had to meet her. After we had been dating for a few months, she told me she saw me and wanted me, orchestrating run-ins and laying bait so I would bite.
At first I thought it was cute. As our relationship progressed, I saw it become controlling. I’m a pretty easygoing guy, so I didn’t mind bending. At first.
My parents love her. I love her. However, the ultimatum was a long time coming.
Three years, and I should be ready to propose. Noelle is perfect, and she could have any guy she wanted, but she picked me. I should feel like a king. Instead I feel like a prisoner.
As I walk from my parking spot, I’m ashamed that I’m thinking about Emily, our hug, how she smelled, how her body felt pressed against mine. It’s a piece-of-shit move, and deep down, I know coming here was the shittiest thing I could do to Noelle.
I would’ve never known about Olive if I didn’t come, so when it comes down to it, I don’t regret a thing.
I walk into Gold Roast and see my girlfriend, facing the espresso machine. She turns with the bell, and her smile breaks wide open.
Noelle is stunningly beautiful with wide blue eyes and blond hair, and when she stands she looks down on me in her high boots.
“Hi, baby.” She kisses me and then wipes lipstick off my mouth. My eyes flicker to the counter, and Tara, the owner, looks away quickly, like she’s been watching this exchange.
“What a nice surprise,” I say, sitting down across from her. An espresso cup and saucer sits in front of her, and her phone lays face down.
“Right? I knew you would talk me out of it so I thought I would surprise you.” She fans her hands out, like she’s on a cruise dinner show.
“I probably would’ve.”
Tara, the owner I met yesterday, drops off a to-go cup. When I look up at her, she says, “On the house.”
“Thanks,” I say. Tara grimaces at me, and I nod once, turning to my girlfriend. Noelle says nothing but folds her hands in front of her. Mirroring her, I look down. How do I tell her? I really don’t want to, but the longer I don’t do it, the more dread I’ll have.
“Noelle, I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?” She sits up straighter, a hopefulness tugging at the corners of her mouth. I know what she’s hoping, that I came to my senses, that I’ve made a deposit on a ring. She won’t see Olive coming.
“I came here for a reason. I wanted to be sure. About us.”
She nods, her eyes wide and hopeful. Shit.
“I was involved with a woman here.”
Noelle’s eyes enlarge and her mouth parts, her gasp audible. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Emily. I haven’t seen her since I left this town, ten years ago.”
“Okay,” Noelle says hesitantly. “Did you see her?”
“Yes.” I take a scalding sip to break the tension and scan the room to delay. When I look at her, recognition covers her face.
“Oh no, what? What?”
“Um,” I say, tracing the table with my finger. “She has a kid. A nine-year-old daughter.” Her gaze hits mine when I look up. “She’s mine. I’m a father.”
“What?” Noelle shrieks at the same time something crashes behind the bar. We turn, and the owner pops up with her arms splayed.
“I am so sorry,” Tara says. “I’m so clumsy.”
We both turn to each other, and Noelle looks shell-shocked.
