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“It’s nota game,” Dante gritted out. “Christian got pissed and did something stupid. What would me telling you have accomplished? You would’ve just gotten upset over something that already happened.”
“The fact you don’t know what the problem is,isthe problem.” I turned, too tired to argue anymore. “Find me when you’re ready to talk like an adult.”
Relationships were a give-and-take, and right now, I was tired of giving.
The next morning, I woke up early to clear my head in Central Park. After forty-five minutes of aimless wandering, last night’s embers of indignation still flickered in my stomach, so I did what I always did when I needed to vent: I called my sister.
She grew up with our parents, too, and she’d gone through the whole arranged marriage process. If anyone understood me, she did.
“Have you ever wanted to murder Gunnar?” The number of times I’d considered murder since I got engaged to Dante was alarming. Maybe it was a quirk of being married or almost married.
Agnes laughed. “On multiple occasions, usually when he refuses to pick up his socks or ask for directions when we’re already late. But I don’t have the stomach for blood, so he’s safe. For now.”
I huffed out a laugh. “If only my problems were as simple as socks on the ground.”
“Uh oh. Did you and Dante get in a fight?”
“Yes and no.” I briefly summarized what happened, starting with his weird attitude shift after Paris and ending with the revelation about the text last night.
I hadn’t realized how long we’d gone without talking until now. Agnes and I used to call each other every week, but it was harder now with our schedules and her living in Europe.
“Wow,” Agnes said after I finished. “You’ve had an…interesting few weeks.”
“Tell me about it.” I ran the toe of my leather Chloé flat along a crack in the ground. My mother would yell at me about scuffing my shoe, but she wasn’t here, so I didn’t care what she would say.
“I feel like we’re regressing,” I said. “We were doing so well. He was opening up, communicating…and now we’re back to square one. He’s silent and withdrawn, and I’mfrustrated.I can’t do this for the rest of my life, Aggie. I’ll…oh my God. We’ll be the couple in the Netflix documentary,” I realized, horrified. “Love and Murder: The Couple Next Door.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Okay, here’s what I think. You’renotback to square one,” she said. “Remember when you first got engaged? You couldn’t stand each other. You’ve come a long way since then, even if you’ve taken a few steps back recently.”
I sighed. “I hate how you’re always right.”
“That’s why I’m the older sister,” she quipped. “Look, Gunnar and I weren’t huge fans of each other when we met, either. There was a point during the engagement when I camethisclose to calling the whole thing off.”
My foot stopped fidgeting. “Really? But you two are so in love.”
“We are now, but it wasn’t a love that hit us at first sight. Or second, or third. We had to work for it,” Agnes said. “Two days before we visited Mom and Dad for Lunar New Year—remember when Mom freaked out about the sticky rice balls not being sticky enough?—we got lost during a hike and had ahugefight. I was ready to throw my ring over the side of the mountain and push Gunnar after it. But we survived, as did our relationship.”
A dog barked in the background, and Agnes waited for it to quiet before continuing, “No one’s perfect. Sometimes, our partners will do things that drive us mad. I know I have habits Gunnar can’t stand. But the difference between the couples who make it and those who don’t is one, understanding what your dealbreakers are, and two, being willing to stick it out through the issues thataren’tdealbreakers.”
“You should be a relationship counselor,” I said. “Your talent is wasted on jewelry marketing.”
She laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Just don’t tell Dad, or he’ll makeyoutake the Chief Marketing Officer role.”
I wrinkled my nose at the prospect.
“Would you have really called off the wedding?” Agnes had always been the “better” daughter out of the two of us. More accommodating, less sarcastic. I couldn’t resist a subtle dig now and then, but she was unfailingly genteel at home. “Mom and Dad would’ve…”
“Probably disowned me,” she finished. “I know. But as much as I wanted to make them happy, I couldn’t have tied myself to someone I didn’t like for the rest of my life. That’s one thing I’ve realized now that I’m older, Vivi. You can’t live your life trying to please others. You can be courteous and respectful, and you can compromise, but when it comes down to it? It’s your life. Don’t waste it.”
Emotion tangled in my throat.
I wasn’t sad or upset, but Agnes’s words hit me somewhere that made tears prickle the backs of my eyes.
“But it all worked out for you,” I said.
