Nick
I wake up Christmas morning with a stomach full of butterflies. Today is going to be one of the most important days of my life, and while the lead-up has held nothing but excitement, I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t an equal amount of anxiety swirling around in my gut.
There’s a ring nestled in a little black velvet box hidden in my underwear drawer. I knew the moment I saw it in the store window that it would be perfect for her. That it wasthering.
And even though my contract hasn’t been officially signed yet, and I haven’t received my advance, I know the money is coming, so I let myself splurge.
When I talked to Jess’s parents a few weeks ago—not so much to ask permission because Jess is a grown woman who can decide for herself, but because I wanted to share the news with the people closest to her—they both cried over FaceTime, telling me they couldn’t wait for me to officially be their son.
I’d been able to choke back the tears until we hung up, but I hope they know how much it meant to me, to havetheir support. Support that has been unwavering and unconditional, unlike the recent support I’ve suddenly been blessed with from my own family.
A couple of weeks ago, I called to tell them that not only are my books going to be published, but I received an offer for a life-changing amount of money. They never understood my writing or my love of romance novels, but they definitely understand the words “six figures.” I don’t even think it’s the money, necessarily, more that this is a tangible sign of success. When I made the decision to “abandon” the family business and pursue my own dreams, no one was really surprised. Despite the grooming my brothers and I went through as kids, it was always clear I never quite fit in at Matthews and Sons Construction. Moving to New York, according to my parents, was risky and a financially dumb decision. Why would I chance an unpredictable career like writing when I had a sure thing being handed to me?
Normally, conversations with my family end with one or both of my parents pleading for me to come home, to come work a “real” job. This latest conversation ended with my dad telling me he was proud of me for I think the first time ever. I want to pretend like I didn’t need to hear those words. But I did.
The one person who has been happiest for me over these past couple of whirlwind weeks is Jess. I’m sure it can’t have always been easy to see me getting everything we’ve both been working so hard for, but she has never once let her support falter or her smile waver. She has been there with me through every single second, evenwhen my indecision about which deal to accept was likely driving her to the brink of insanity.
Luckily, in maybe the most fortuitous gift of good timing ever, Jess also got an offer. Only one, and more modest than mine, but with SVP, an incredible romance publisher whom I also ended up deciding to sign with.
A Christmas engagement should be the cherry on top of this life-goals sundae we’ve been digging into over the past few weeks.
So why is my stomach a sinking pit of dread?
I’ve spent the past two weeks mulling over a conversation I had with Marcus, the only person aside from Jess who can really understand what this opportunity means to me. We’ve been friends for so long, he’s seen me through every phase of my writing career.
When he made an offhand comment about how many more books I might sell if I were single—a sort of real-life book boyfriend—I didn’t take him too seriously. Marcus is in marketing, and I know by now he’s always looking for the next gimmick, the next way to go viral and sell big. He’s been able to do it for his clients more than once in the past, but it’s not like anything is ever guaranteed, so it was easy to shrug off his implications.
But when he mentioned how my success might overshadow Jess, I couldn’t dismiss that so easily. The publishing industry isn’t exactly transparent, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that, with the difference in the size of our advances, my book will be getting the lion’s share of SVP’s focus. And then there’s the real tough question—what if our relationship makespeople question just how Jess got her deal—like SVP is doing me some kind of favor by publishing my girlfriend’s books alongside mine.
It’s been ruminating in my mind ever since that night at our favorite dive bar. I haven’t spoken about it with anyone, haven’t wanted to even bring it up again with Marcus, afraid he might provide me with even more compelling reasons why the greatest achievement of my life so far might be putting a damper on hers.
The more I consider all angles, the more I think Marcus might be right. Being tied to me could end up hurting Jess’s career, and I can’t think of anything in the world I want less.
There’s also a small part of me, a part I hate to even acknowledge, but it’s there, that knows Marcus is right about the other thing too. I can see how being single—being “attainable”—could help me sell more books.
If you had asked me a month ago if I would even think about trading my relationship with Jess to sell more books, I would have laughed at the mere suggestion.
Jess is everything to me.
Or she was, until that offer landed in my inbox. Until all of my dreams were suddenly within reach. Until my dad told me he was proud. Shame heats my cheeks at the very thought.
I know I should just tell her my concerns. I should let her know what Marcus said, let her be the one to decide if she would rather have a career where she can stand on her own merits, unencumbered by me.
I shake that thought out of my head. I know Jess. Her whole life revolves around love. She isn’t the type to picka career over true love, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. I don’t know if it makes me feel better or worse at this point.
I turn on my side, watching as Jess’s chest rises and falls. A tiny smile tugs on the corner of her lips, and I hope that means she’s having a good dream. The kind of dream where she gets everything she wants in life.
I slip out of bed, careful not to disturb her, tiptoeing past the living room where Alyssa and Kennedy sleep on an air mattress. In the kitchen of our one-bedroom apartment, I prep her coffee. In addition to splurging on a ring, I also bought us an espresso machine so Jess can make her disgustingly sweet coffee drinks from the comfort of our home. I even bought peppermint and chocolate syrups, even though the smell of peppermint makes me want to gag.
Jess’s love of Christmas isn’t going anywhere; it’s one of the reasons I picked today to propose.
I pour myself a mug of black coffee. Actually, that’s a lie, I throw a splash of whiskey in there because something tells me I’m going to need a little liquid courage.
Once Jess’s overly sweet drink is prepared, I take both mugs into the bedroom, setting hers on the night table before leaning down to place a soft kiss on her forehead.
She blinks up at me sleepily, that soft smile growing as she drinks me in. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I gesture to the coffee waiting for her before climbing back into bed next to her.
