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We spoke little in the car on the way home and exchanged even fewer words as we pulled into the parking garage under the condo. It took two trips to take our presents upstairs. As Rob went down for the last load, I finally got a chance to look at my BlackBerry.
Engaged. Garrett had texted.Congrats.
His short message conveyed next to nothing. He wasn’t disappointed and he hadn’t asked any further questions. I locked myself in our en-suite bathroom, turned on the taps to feign drawing a bath, sat down on the edge of the tub, and let the tears come. I was risking everything when I already had so much. When I had built so much, a start to a life, a good life. One I was lucky to have. The water filled the tub and steamed up the bathroom. I dumped some bath salts in and stirred them around.
The last two days had been an emotional whirlwind, as if the holidays weren’t stressful enough. Even if Rob was convinced marriage wouldn’t change a single aspect of our relationship, I knew it would. The dress and the display and the pomp and circumstance of it all, not to mention Camille … marriage was a tremor beneath the earthquake of change.
And I knew it shouldn’t matter to me what Garrett thought because I loved Rob, and I onlythoughtI loved Garrett. There was a difference. There had to be. Garrett was happy for me, excited, his usual self. We would only ever be work friends. I stepped into the tub, let the water wash over me, and thought about everything I would lose by not being with Rob. One thought—that he wouldn’t be there to kiss me good night—and I made up my mind.
Rob was in our room, sitting on the bed when I came out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s a lot, everyone having babies, thisring. But I love you. I want to get married. I do. Let’s start planning for September. That should give us enough time and—”
Rob pulled me toward him between his legs and held me tight. “I love you,” he whispered into my ear. It was a tender moment; I felt secure. Rob pushed his hands up under my towel. “Kel, we don’t have to decide it all tonight. Thank you, thank you for giving me an answer. It’s enough for now. It is.”
I leaned into him, soaking his T-shirt with my wet hair. “No, I’ve made a decision. Please, call your mother and tell her September. I bet they’ll book the golf club for the reception. That should make your parents happy and mine somewhat comfortable.” I leaned back to pick up the phone and hand it to him. “Call her, it’s not too late.”
Rob took the phone from my hands, and I stepped out from between his legs. “All right, all right!”
“Mom, hi, hope it’s not too late,” Rob said into the phone. “Kelly’s said yes, we’re getting married! I know, it was quick for her.” I rolled my eyes at him and shook my head. “Kelly wants to get married this September.” Pause. “I’m sure that’s enough time to plan a wedding.” Pause. “Why don’t you try the club—we don’t need anything fancy. It’s as nice a place as any to get married.” Pause. “Sure, we can still look around, but why don’t you call after the holidays and see if they can give us some possible dates?”
Rob mumbled into the phone as he walked out of the bedroom to finish his conversation. Light and happy. The fight locked away in the recesses of his mind. I sent a note back to Garrett.We’re going to get married in September. Hope you and Jen are having a nice holiday. See you this week.
“Honeymoon in Paris,” I shouted. “That’s my one condition. I want to spend my honeymoon in Paris.”
Because as long as I was dreaming this would all work out, I might as well dream big.
Chapter 9
BOXING DAY. What a brilliant idea. All the pressure from Christmas was over, all the family obligations complete. We woke up early, calm, serene, and happy. I wasn’t too hungover. Rob made the coffee and let me mix the pancake batter. We piled on frozen blueberries and way too much maple syrup, and feasted on bacon until we were stuffed. I told him he’d better not make me gain any more than five pounds this week or else I wouldn’t fit into the dress I had bought for the film channel launch party on New Year’s Eve. He laughed and told me that I looked better with a bit of meat on my bones, and that alcohol wasn’t a balanced diet. I tried all morning to put the silly text exchange from Garrett out of my mind, convincing myself that being engaged properly meant that I should be in the moment with Rob, not glued to my BlackBerry.
Rob knew me but Garrett understood me. Laughing about the cheesy guy on the streetcar—Garrett. Joking about Siobhan’s crazy mood swings—Garrett. Complaining about Camille and her endless looks—Garrett. I talked to Garrett more these days than I talked to Meghan. He knew the ins and outs of my days in a way that Rob couldn’t. Rob and I didn’t work together. We didn’t spend countless lunches together, didn’t go to the bar together, didn’t spend all day messaging each other. I had an intimacy with Garrett that I didn’t share with Rob. The moments added up, and the closeness I felt to Garrett was making me lose focus on the man in front of me. The man I was actually sharing my life with. The man, for better or worse, I had agreed to marry.
“Are you having buyer’s regret?” Rob joked. I was staring off into space. “You just shook your head when I asked if you wanted another cup of coffee. Has being engaged turned you into a completely different person? Who are you?”
“Sorry, I zoned out for a second. Coffee, yes, that’ll fix the problem.” I smiled; he poured. Piling in the cream and sugar, I said, “Breakfast was delicious. We’ve had some outstanding meals the last few days. I think all the food crammed into my brain is making it impossible to think.”
“Or you’re hungover.”
“Could be that too.” I yawned. “I need some fresh air.”
“Oh no, Kelly,” he said. “I can feel it coming on, here we go. You are about to explode from family time. The clock is ticking. The bomb needs to be diffused. Get your coat on. Maybe, just maybe, you need to—I’m going to say it out loud, don’t hit me, stop! You need to process!”
As much as he was teasing, he was right. With work on hiatus until New Year’s Eve, I had no real excuse to get out of the house.
He continued, “The gears are grinding to a halt. She’s losing all personality as we sit here. The life is draining out of her limbs. She … can’t … take … another … breath …”
“Enough!” I kicked him gently under the table. “I’m going to take myself outside and go for a walk.”
“And there it is, folks. The Kelly I know and love. The one who needs to escape into herself for a couple of hours. Your eyebrows are going to disappear into one another,” he said as he rose from the table. I stood up to gather our plates. “Leave them. I’m getting your coat. Go put on a warm sweater. I can’t take looking at you all balled up like a porcupine about to be attacked. Go. Now.”
I wrapped myself up in my warmest down-filled coat, tied a wool scarf around my neck, and smothered myself in a toque. “Keys?”
“Where did you leave them?”
“I have no idea.” He shook his head at me and passed me his keys without another word.
Snow was falling slowly; it was more like dust particles than precipitation. As I crossed Queen, I wished I lived in a massive city like New York or London. There was something so comforting about getting lost in a city that stretched out before you, that you couldn’t walk across in day or even two if you tried. In either of those places, you could head out in one direction, walk for hours, for blocks and blocks, and there would still be so much city to see. As brilliant a place as Toronto was to live, it just wasn’t the same. I passed through the gates into Trinity Bellwoods and crunched up pathway. The wind swept the cold up and underneath my coat.
