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Adam’s words back in the bar sparked a realization. Not so much a solution to her honesty problem as the insatiable need to know the truth. She had come to see Caleb not to break the spell but rather to expose a lie.
Although, if a kiss really was going to fix her problem, she’d take the win because she still needed to make it through lunch with a movie star.
Except.
As she expected, the kiss wasn’t doing anything. Where she half hoped to feel a shift, a rewind, an unraveling and respinning of the thread that held her life together, she felt a square peg and a round hole; shoes that didn’t quite fit right; plaid with a floral print. And she realized it had always felt mismatched with Caleb, she had just never admitted it.
She abruptly pulled back and held his face in her hands. He had sharp eyes, a blade of a nose, and a jawline that would give their future children elfin features if combined with her own, but that scenario was looking less and less likely by the second.
“That wasn’t good.” Instead of surprising her, her declaration emboldened her. “It’s never been good.”
He blinked at her, confused. “Okay.” He rubbed his wet lips together. “Have you been drinking?”
“Yes.”
His brow flattened. “Lucy, what—?”
“Your shirt is bl—”
She tried her standard test, just to be sure it hadn’t worked, and felt the familiar wall barricading the slightest dishonesty.
Caleb glanced down at his chest. “My shirt? What about it?”
She looked at him sitting there in his gray-not-blue shirt and knew that even if true love’s kiss was the cure, she didn’t love Caleb. She knew it with the same certainty she knew he wasn’t going to propose to her that night. Or ever, for that matter. And she knew that she had been lying to herself about wanting him to all along.
“It’s a nice shirt,” she told him, her voice betraying a wobble.
“Lucy, what’s going on? Why are you upset over my shirt?” He stood beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders like a soccer coach, not an empathetic significant other with spouse potential. The friendly shoulder squeeze was his go-to comfort move, sometimes a pat on the back. Buck up, champ. You’ll make it through.
“I hate it when you do that,” she said, and shrugged his arm away. “I’d rather have a real hug than whatever that is.” She waved a hand. “I also don’t like how kissing you feels like I’m kissing a shy middle schooler or a drunk frat boy, and there’s nothing in between.”
He stepped back. “Uh... what?”
She took a breath. She came to be honest, not cruel, and that was a bit harsh.
She sensed that she was about to humiliate herself, but ripping off the Band-Aid was better than continuing the charade.
“I thought you were going to propose to me tonight, Caleb.”
His eyes went so wide, she could see the whites all the way around. “I— Propose?” Caleb rarely had trouble figuring out what to say; he always had an intelligent response on hand. But the stunned look on his face, his eyes darting like panicked pinballs, Lucy knew he was not on the same page she had been on about their future. “Lucy, I... That’s not... I wasn’t—”
“I know.”
She was suddenly angry with herself for being so misguided. All the time and energy she spent waiting, telling herself it was what she wanted. She knew on some level that he wasn’t ready, but seeing confirmation hurt.
Caleb ran a hand through his sandy hair and exhaled like he really couldn’t believe what was going on. “You really thought...?”
“Yes, Caleb, I did. I did because I thought it was the next step. We’ve been dating for two years; we’re moving in together; our families love each other; we’re both in our thirties. Every movie I’ve ever seen, book I’ve read, and Instagram post shoving wedding pictures down my throat says I’m supposed to walk down the aisle to Mr. Perfect at this stage in my life. But we’re not perfect, Caleb. I’ve just been telling myself we are. And based on the look you just gave me when I mentioned proposing, marriage isn’t even on your radar, which is entirely unfair since I’m made to feel like a failure if I’m not hitched by thirty, and you get to keep sending apology flowers and skipping out on dates like you’ve got all the time in the world!”
She didn’t realize how much her voice had risen until she saw a smooth, tanned arm discreetly reach inside and close the door; Paige, Caleb’s assistant. She waited for it to click and took the privacy as license to continue.
“Are we even in love, Caleb?”
The fact that he didn’t rush to her, fold her in his arms, kiss her, and ask how she could even question such a thing was enough of an answer.
“That’s what I thought.”
His face flushed and his eyes widened like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Then he held out his hands, looking like he was trying to catch his footing on mossy river rocks. “Lucy, what is even going on right now? You just show up out of nowhere and start talking about marriage, and now we’re what, breaking up?”
