My relationship with Oliverread like scripted scenes stolen from an old movie.
Holidays spent at Ava’s soirees, drinking and dancing until the early morning hours. Winter afternoons walking the streets of New York City, snow flurrying around. WhenTippi’s Takes Presentsreleased, he committed to attending every event, sat in the front row taking pictures and video clips, beaming with pride.
Oliver had a way of making even the most mundane feel like magic, rendering the plainness of life extraordinary. On the first day of warm, springlike weather, he beckoned me outside, away from the searing brightness of my laptop screen and my stale bedsheets. We met outside his office in Midtown, ordered takeout from a nearby food truck, and settled in for a picnic in the park.
“I received an interesting email today.”
“Oh yeah?” Oliver leaned against the wooden back of the park bench, stretching out his long legs.
“I was invited to Cannes again.”
“Really?” He seemed impressed. “The film festival, right?”
“Yes. I’ve been once before, right after the blog took off,” I said. “I’m guessing the popularity of the book has raised my profile.”
Two birds zipped through the clear blue sky, landing on the cement lip of a nearby fountain, the burbling water a melody.
“When are we going?” He smiled mischievously.
“That’s the thing,” I said. “It’s in May, which means we’d have to fly out right after my birthday, and the wedding is only a couple weeks after we get back.”
“You can’t decide whether to dive into work or wedding planning?”
“I floated the idea to Ava. She said I’d be crazy to leave the country so close to the ceremony. There’s no telling how much stuff she has lined up for me to do.”
“I’ll support you whatever you decide,” he said. “Although we’ll have plenty of time to focus on your career after the move.”
In addition to planning our wedding ceremony, Oliver and I were relocating to the West Coast. I had managed my blog successfully from New York City for years, but there was no denying that California provided more consistent work opportunities. More premieres, better industry access. Oliver longed for a career change, too, a position that wouldn’t require so much travel. Once in California, he would join theTippi’s Takespayroll and be responsible for booking appearances and interviews. With his magnetic personality running my campaigns, I had a sneaking suspicion I’d be busier than ever.
Oliver was right. I’d made my blog and my reviews and the book my identity for as long as I could remember. Prioritizing myself was a new concept. And I was endlessly amazed at the amount of effort he put into our relationship, turning a midday lunch into a Central Park picnic.
There was a time in my life when I would have viewed such antics with skepticism and disdain. Perhaps, I realized, it was only because I’d never been on the receiving end of such grandiose efforts. My entire life—from my isolated childhood until now—had been ruled by practicality. For the first time, I was doing something besides merely surviving. I was living, with the most spectacular of partners by my side.
“What are you thinking about in that head of yours?” Oliver asked.
“Everything and nothing.”
My gaze trailed upward, studying the brushstroke clouds painted across the sky. A warm breeze swept between us, tingling the back of my neck. When I closed my eyes, I could hear a joyful instrument playing in the distance and giggling children nearby. It sounded like possibility.
“Hopefully good thoughts about me?” He pulled me closer.
“Always.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a wrapped box. “I have a surprise for you.”
Oliver shifted apprehensively. “What’s the occasion?”
“I have this beautiful reminder of our engagement,” I said, admiring the sparkling sapphires on my finger. “It’s only fair you wear something, too.”
“Isn’t that what the wedding band is for?”
“Stop stalling and open it,” I said, barely able to contain my excitement any longer. Normally, Oliver was the one with surprises, and I valued the chance to spoil him for a change.
Oliver tugged on the vibrant ribbon and slipped off the box’s lid. He beamed when he saw what was inside. “Tippi, this is too much.”
“The salesman at the store said it was an ideal starter piece.”
Oliver reached inside and plucked out a Rolex watch, the gold glinting in the sunlight. He held it against his wrist, as if he was still uncertain it belonged to him.
“It’s engraved on the back, so don’t even think about returning it.”
