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“This was a great idea,” I gushed to Heather. “Thanks again.”
Heather smirked, obviously smug. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I hope that’s not what you’re planning on wearing when he comes home?”
I glanced down and then burst into laughter. I was still wearing the stained jeans and sweatshirt that I’d thrown on in the morning as soon as I’d woken up.
“God, no,” I said. “Come upstairs and help me pick an outfit?”
Heather nodded. She looked relieved – I could tell that picking out clothes was much more fun for her than helping me with cooking. I already had Michael’s other favorite dishes (cabernet pot roast and garlic mashed potatoes) cooking in slow cookers, and the kitchen smelled heavenly. I figured that the cheesecake would be a perfect way to top off the little “I’m sorry” meal when he got home.
“I feel so bad about our fight last night,” I complained as I shrugged off my old clothes and slipped into the dress Heather was holding up. “Wow, this is tight,” I added, sucking in my breath and turning around. “Zip me up?”
Heather laughed. “God, I haven’t seen you wear this dress in years,” she said. She glanced at me with wide eyes. “You look great, Beth.”
I blushed. “Thanks,” I told her. I knew Heather would always be honest with me about things like clothes.
“And don’t worry about your fight,” Heather said. “You guys are engaged – I read somewhere that being engaged is the most stressful part of a relationship. Well, besides the first year of marriage. And besides the first year you have your second kid.”
I rolled my eyes. “God, way to make me look forward to the future,” I said sarcastically. “I can’t wait for that.”
Heather flopped on the bed, her hair spreading out like a fan. “I’m kind of jealous,” Heather admitted. “I mean, not because I want to get married. But you just have things figured out,” she added. “I mean, you know everything you want in life. You know that you want three kids, and a house in the suburbs. And you know Michael will be able to give you all of that – hell, he probably has the money now, you know?”
I sighed. “I do know,” I said softly. “But sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. Sometimes I wonder if it’s really going to make me happy.”
“Of course it will,” Heather said. “You and Michael are on the same page!” I rolled my eyes and Heather laughed. “Don’t do that,” she said. “I know you think your relationship doesn’t have any passion, but trust me – things are better this way. It’s better for you if everything is so even and calm all the time.”
I frowned. “Things weren’t exactly calm last night,” I said.
“Well, he came home drunk,” Heather replied. “You told me that’s really unusual.”
I nodded. “Michael barely drinks.” Just as I was about to start talking about how hurt I’d felt, the doorbell rang.
“Expecting someone?” Heather frowned.
My heart skipped a beat. “No,” I said slowly. “Only Michael. And he won’t be home for hours.” I checked my watch. “It’s only six-thirty.”
“You guys,” Heather said with a grin. “I bet he’s doing the same thing you’re doing! I bet he feels bad about the fight, and he sent you flowers!”
“God, really?” I blushed. “Michael’s never done anything like that!”
The doorbell rang again, followed by a heavy pounding on the door.
“I bet the flower guy just really wants to get home,” I said. I couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across my face. I couldn’t believe that Michael had finally done something sweet and romantic – just like I’d been asking for.
“Go get the door!” Heather playfully swatted the air in my direction. “And don’t freak out if the flower guy’s eyes fall out of his head. The way your tits look in that dress is incredible!”
“Oh, stop,” I said as I waved my hand through the air. “It’s nothing.” As I jogged downstairs and towards the front door, the excitement blossomed in my chest like a flower.
Yanking open the door, I smiled. “Hi!” I chirped.
My smile vanished as soon as I realized there was no flower guy on the other side.
Two cops were standing there. They were clutching their patrol hats to their chests, and they both looked crestfallen.
“Are you Beth Wilson?”
I nodded slowly.
“Ms. Wilson, I’m afraid I have some bad news about your fiancé, Michael Bennett,” one of the cops said. “May I come inside?”
